John had left, and Sherlock had mixed feelings about that.

On one hand, he didn't have to listen to the lectures anymore. All he had wanted was quick, precise instructions on how to care for the girl running around the sitting room, but instead he had gotten a full seminar. Make sure she has a regular schedule, watch out for excess sugars, if you put her down for a nap make sure she doesn't sleep too long otherwise it'll upset her sleep schedule, Sherlock… Sherlock, for God's sake are you listening to me?

But, now John had left, and he was alone once again with the hyperactive terror.

"Raven, stop that," he commanded in a firm voice. Any man in his right mind would have stopped for that voice.

"No!" She giggled, and continued flying around the room.

Sherlock blinked. No? And just what was so humorous about the situation? "Yes! Stop that right now!"

"NO!" She shrieked, grinning from ear to ear, pausing just long enough to be sure that he saw her defiance.

Sherlock quickly assessed his options. Drugging her wouldn't be difficult. All he had to do was give her a sweet smile and a glass of milk and a special ingredient, and she'd be out like a light. Nothing that would hurt her, of course, just to give him some peace to digest his situation.

He dismissed this plan. John wouldn't be pleased if he found out – though if he had been there at that moment, he would surely understand – and Mycroft certainly wouldn't.

Tying her down would lead to the same results, though he could pass that one off as a game. The problem with that plan would be in convincing John that it had merely been an innocent game.

He sniffed. Why was he so worried about what John would think? Besides, it's not as though his friend would have any right to judge when he'd be in the same situation in a couple of years. The thought brought a smile; he'd have to be certain to stop by for coffee with Molly and watch the little creature in action, driving John absolutely mad.

That was assuming he survived the creature driving him mad.

Raven's dark curls flew behind her as she ran, a rampage of laughter and energy. She reminded him of Gladstone when he was a young pup. The dog had been an endless source of energy, and often kept them – well, John. He was John's dog – up at night if he wasn't dealt with earlier in the day.

Gladstone! That was it!

"Raven, why don't we go for a walk?" He suggested coolly.

A few people gave him odd stares, but he ignored them.

Raven walked alongside him, and seemed content, so that was all that mattered, really. She was quiet. He was feeling rather proud of himself. He had handled the situation in a logical way, John couldn't complain because he was making sure she got exercise and fresh air, and he had seen plenty of parents doing in the past, so it wasn't as if it was an unheard of idea.

He was just glad John had forgotten one of Gladstone's leashes when he had moved out. Sherlock had kept it for the sole reason that it might one day be useful, and sure enough it was. Clipping it to the belt of her coat didn't work as well as a collar would have, but it worked well enough. If she strayed too far, a tug of the wrist and she was back at his side.

"Where we going?" Raven asked curiously.

"We're just walking," Sherlock replied simply, his eyes scanning the people passing by. He had to give his mind some kind of activity to do, so he analysed anyone they passed by. Some of the scandals he could read from just a glance over would be enough to destroy some of their lives. How did 'normal' people miss the obvious?

"We has to be going some place!"

"Have," he corrected her sharply, "and no we don't. We're just walking, enjoying the city."

"This is bo'ing," Raven crossed her arms in a sulk. She could say that again.

Sherlock shoved his hands into his pockets, clutching the handle of the leash tightly. "Oh, I think it's rather refreshing. Fresh air is good for the mind." Actually, nicotine was good for the mind, but she was perhaps a bit too young to learn that yet.

"Air makes you 'hink?"She asked quizzically.

"Er… Yes. Yes it does." Encouraging her to think, and he was benefiting her health. Perhaps this whole 'domestic' thing wouldn't be too bad after all. He rather hoped Mycroft was watching how well the whole thing was going. He lifted his chin up and gave a smug grin at a security camera nearby.

"Just calling to make sure she's still alive." John had to admit it; he was worried. Sherlock was bored, no case, and left alone with a little girl. Surely that was a recipe for disaster, or an experimented on child.

"Thank you for your confidence, John," Sherlock replied sourly. "She's fine."

He wasn't ready to breathe a sigh of relief just yet. "How're things going?"

"Fine," Sherlock repeated, hanging up the leash. "This may come as a shock, but I can function on my own."

"I know you can, but you also have a child with you now. She does require a bit of attention," the doctor pointed out, rubbing his temples. Getting a straight answer out of Sherlock was next to impossible sometimes.

"I am aware of that," Sherlock replied. "For your information, we just got in a sort while ago from a nice walk together. I made sure she stayed with me the entire time. I didn't lose her, or make her crawl into any abandoned buildings."

"Good, and no, I still haven't forgiven you for that time," John's voice had traces of bitterness. "I almost wound up in court. Again."

"Yes, but you didn't, so I don't know what the problem is," the detective replied simply. "Next time just run when I tell you to."

"It was dark and—sorry, Molly's calling me from upstairs. I have to go, and you should be quiet so not to wake Raven."

"Wake?"

There was a bit of a pause. "She is in bed, isn't she? It's a quarter after eight. Don't you remember what I said?"

"Yes, of course she's in bed!" He snapped back. "She's just upstairs. You can hardly hear anything up there."

"Alright. Goodnight, Sherlock."

Hanging up the phone, Sherlock looked into the kitchen. Raven beamed at him, clutching a glass of milk and proudly sporting a milk moustache.