Sherlock asked suddenly as the idea came upon him, "Do you think that Mrs. Hudson would be willing to care for Daniel while I'm working? Mycroft mentioned her, and she really doesn't do much, does she?"
"I'm sure Mrs. Hudson has a life, Sherlock," John said a little drily. "And if you're going to ask her to become your nanny, I wouldn't imply that she doesn't. It might be taken as a bit insulting."
"Of course I'll be polite about it, John," Sherlock said impatiently. "I'm not that inept."
Mrs. Hudson poked her head into his flat just then, saying, "The cot's arrived, Sherlock."
"Wonderful," Mary answered. "You boys can take care of that, can't you?"
"Ah…" Sherlock looked a little helplessly at his nephew in his arms.
Seeing his predicament, Molly scooped the boy back into her arms with a "here, give him to me, Uncle Sherlock."
"Did I hear you say my name before I came in, dear?" Mrs. Hudson asked him.
"Yes, actually," Sherlock replied, turning from Molly to face his landlady. "I believe the conclusion has been reached that I ought to try my hand at bringing up my nephew, since I am the guardian that Sherrinford and Francine desired him to be handed over to in the event of their deaths. However, that requires having a minder for him who's capable of holding hours that are as unpredictable as my own. For that you seem to be the first and favorite candidate – if you are willing?"
Mrs. Hudson beamed at him. "Of course I am, Sherlock! I may not be your housekeeper, but I'm more than willing to look after that good little nephew of yours – with an added fee to your rent, of course."
"Of course," Sherlock nodded. "Thank you, Mrs. Hudson."
"Cot's waiting for us outside, Sherlock," John spoke up.
"Right," Sherlock said, weaving past Mrs. Hudson and following John down the stairs.
"Where are we going to put him?" John asked as the two men carried the box of parts up the stairs a minute later. "Is my old room a good option?"
"I think there may still be enough space for the cot between all the books and experiments, yes," Sherlock answered.
John winced at the thought as he shouldered open the door to the flat and took the familiar path to his old bedroom, the box being carried between him and Sherlock. The two of them set the box down in the predicted circle of cleared floor space and took all of the pieces out. They sat down in the middle of it all and Sherlock handed John the instructions.
Sherlock suggested, "Why don't you read these?"
John agreed, and once Sherlock was certain his friend was going to be sufficiently distracted for awhile, the sociopath set to work unassisted. Even blocking out John's voice as the doctor read and Sherlock worked, the cot was put together by the time John finally looked up from the instructions.
"What are you doing?" John asked in surprise.
"Finishing tightening the last screws on the cot," Sherlock answered casually.
John slapped down the instructions, declaring with an edge of frustration in his voice, "I can see that. Do you have any idea how long it took me to put together Shirley's cot?!"
"As I recall, you worked on it for an hour without me before Mary thought to call me in to do it for you."
John frowned, informing him sourly, "I hate you."
"No, you don't," Sherlock smirked.
John muttered, "Well, at least we know you can put together cots for Daniel. But what else can you do to care for him?"
Sherlock took a deep breath and saw the moment of regret flash through John's eyes when he realized he'd hit a newly formed nerve. "What else indeed. I suppose I'll have to figure that out, won't I?"
"You'll have our help, you know," John reminded him. "Mrs. Hudson will be a wonderful nanny, and Mary and I will be on call if you need something, the same as always. And Molly seems to have fallen in love with Daniel…" John looked at Sherlock a bit pointedly as he added, "She's fallen in love with more than just Daniel, if you ask me."
Sherlock sighed, replying, "I know that."
"And what about you?" John asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he assessed his friend.
"What about me?"
"Do you love Molly? And I don't care what Mary thinks, I can tell when you're lying, so don't try it."
"I don't know," Sherlock answered honestly. "She's been such a great help to me through the years – but so have you. You're my best friend, John, and Molly – and even Mary – are close seconds to that. I know that she would be more than happy to allow our relationship to become closer than that, but there is a very large part of me that thinks it wouldn't work for me to be in a relationship with anyone ever, and an even bigger part that can acknowledge that even if it could work, Molly deserves someone who could better understand her."
"Sherlock, you read human beings better than anyone else on this planet!"
"But not when it comes to emotions, to – as Mary pointed out when we met – human nature. Molly is a very emotional person, and I am not. Despite the fact that she surrounds herself with death, there is still something very alive and innocent about Molly, and I'm... a machine. At the very least, John, I don't want to hurt her with my callousness, unintended though it often is when it comes to her."
"And that right there says something! That you care enough about her to leave her alone rather than chancing hurting her? That's a big statement. But… has it occurred to you that you're hurting her just by leaving her alone? Mate, I'm sorry, but she loves you, and she wants you to – newsflash – acknowledge what we both know you already know: you love Molly too. If your smart-aleck little jabs, thoughtless remarks, and inclinations towards utter social incompetence haven't driven her on to someone else by now, then they're not going to. I think you need to get that through your thick skull, get your act together, and ask her out already." John threw up his hands, adding a final remark of, "Just saying."
"Well, please don't," Sherlock answered dryly. "I don't need to be thinking about that right now. Figuring out life with Daniel comes first, and then – maybe – Molly."