Once more, the medical book lay open on his lap while he dutifully recited the words from the page, occasionally looking up to see if the girl had fallen asleep. Each time he stole a glance, he hoped with everything he had that she would be deeply asleep, perhaps even into REM.

His eyes wandered over to the pillow.

She still hadn't. To his surprise however, she was remarkably quiet which, as he'd learned, was quite uncharacteristic for her. She was well trained on when to be quiet, such as when she pretended to be his daughter in public (though even then she was still inclined to voice her own thoughts), but when it was just them, there was nearly no way to get her to shut up. But this time, there was no interjecting with questions, no ridiculous demands… just silence and a faraway look in her pale eyes, as though she were deep in contemplation. He was half inclined to ask what she was so deeply immersed in, but decided against it.

"…which processes all the signals received from…"

A tiny hand touched his arm gently. "You look 'ired."

He blinked. John was the only one who ever told him he looked tired, but John was used to being ignored whenever he brought up the subject, however. Raven looked worried, an innocent kind of worry that she had displayed in the restaurant. To her, every human still functioned on the same schedule that she did - he vaguely remembered reading something of the sort somewhere - and to deviate was simply mad in her eyes.

Was he tired? Well, perhaps a bit. There would be plenty of time to sleep now, now that she had cost him the only thing that kept his mind from stalling into insanity.

"I'm fine," he replied shortly, turning the page. Ah, a diagram. He could distract her with it. "This is the—"

"You should sleep," Raven interrupted with a matter of fact tone.

"I'm fine," he insisted through clenched teeth. "Now, pay attention. This…"

"It's nigh'ime. People sleep when it's night 'ime. It's jus' how they work!" The little girl pressed stubbornly, crossing her arms.

"Not all people," he tried to argue. "Now, I'm trying to read you your story so that you will go to sleep."

"Don' need a story," Raven declared. "You need sleep!"

"Raven," he warned, but it was lost on her.

Her tiny brow furrowed, looking like a rather displeased parent of all things. If he wasn't so frustrated, he might have been the slightest bit amused. Instead, he turned back to the book, preparing to read.

"SHERLOCK!" Raven grabbed the book from his hands and stood up on the bed. Standing, she was barely taller then he was sitting. Tossing the book over the edge of the bed, she focused her glare on him and placed her hands on her hips. "It's bed'ime! Go to BED!"

Initially stunned by the outburst, Sherlock opened his mouth to retaliate, but quickly closed it. Right. Fine. If that's how she wanted it, he wasn't going to argue. He was far above arguing with a three year old. Instead, he stood and walked out the door, shutting it with little less then a slam behind him.

Raven grinned and curled up in her bed, basking in the glow of satisfaction with herself.

Sherlock fumed the entire way down the stairs. It wasn't that she'd thrown the book – he didn't give a damn about it at the moment, though he would when it became useful to him once again – it was that she was giving him orders. He didn't take orders; he gave orders, and people followed them. Everyone he encountered knew this.

Everyone, that is, except Raven.

By the time he had reached his room, changed, and laid down on his bed, he discovered that she had been somewhat right; his eyes did feel a bit weary. He supposed closing them for a moment while he processed his thoughts wouldn't hurt any. It might even prevent any other distractions from entering.

"Sherlock? Sherlock!"

His eyes snapped open and his body automatically flung upwards so that he was sitting. His mind felt hazy and groggy – had he actually fallen asleep? Shielding his eyes from the light pouring into the dark room from the doorway, he made out the figure holding on to the doorknob.

"What?" He managed to ask, fumbling for complete control of his senses. As much as he was trying to fight it, his body begged for him to lie back down once again.

"I can't sleep," Raven whimpered, stepping into the room. From what he could tell from the little he could see and the sounds she made while walking, she was still quite tired, and held her teddy bear in one arm. The teddy bear meant security, comfort. Why would she be bringing it with her? "Bad dreams, mons'ers. Bad ones!"

Ah, a nightmare, that explained it. She was frightened. "What do you want me to do about it? It's not real."

"Can I sleep with you?" By now, she was quite close to him.

"That won't solve anything. Simply changing the location of where…" He stopped, distracted by the sound of a tiny hiccup. Oh lord, she was crying. He pursed his lips tightly before taking a deep breath. "All right, fine!" He relented, pulling the corner of the blanket up on the other side of the bed. "This is your half. You stay on your half, am I clear?"

"Thank you, Sherlock!" She squealed, mood shifting instantly. She hugged his neck tightly, giving him a face full of her teddy bear that he decided must have been as old as she and never washed at all in that time period.

He waited as her footsteps echoed around the bed. With little grace, she fumbled up onto the mattress and wormed her way under the blanket. After flipping the blanket back over so the little girl was covered, Sherlock turned on his side so as to pretend she wasn't there. He figured he'd simply wait for her to fall into a deep sleep, then he'd carry her back to her bed. Naturally he'd never be able to sleep so long as she was in the room with him.

He didn't count on being the one to fall asleep first.

He awoke mid-morning to the realization that there was a rather odd pressure on his chest. It reminded him of a time when Gladstone had managed to get into his room at one of the odd times he had slept, and decided that Sherlock made the perfect bed.

Instead of a dog, however, when Sherlock opened his eyes, he was greeted to a mess of dark curls, and a tiny face contentedly sucking on her thumb.

That certainly hadn't been part of the arrangements they had agreed upon.