A/N: Yay! More Scarlett n' Gabe! Today- adventures in bathing. So fluffy, you'll never hear it coming. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing except Gabe and Scarlett.

"All right, Scarlett. I think this is our cue to leave." Molly winced and covered Scarlett's eyes when the person on the screen blew the alien to smithereens with a big, gloopy explosion. Sherlock and Gabriel were glued to the screen. They sat on the floor in front of the television, looking like exact copies of one another. Gabriel sat in Sherlock's lap, both of them in pajamas, with an enormous bowl of popcorn. Neither really noticed when Molly rose and had to drag Scarlett away from the lounge. "Come on, little one. It's bath and bed for us."

"Mummy, I watch telly," Scarlett whined, pointing down the hall.

"No, sweetie. That's a big person's film."

"Bre watch it!" Scarlett poked her lip out and crossed her tiny arms over her chest. "He not a big person."

Molly smiled and started to respond, then realizing that she sort of agreed with the child, swallowed her words. "It's time for bed," she said, feigning a yawn. "I'm so tired."

"Okay, Mummy. You go night-night and I go watch telly with Daddy!" Scarlett gave a big smile and threw her arms up as if she'd just come up with a genius solution to their problem.

"Nice try," she giggled, scooping Scarlett into her arms and going to the wardrobe to pull out fresh pajamas for her. As they walked into the bathroom and Molly began running warm water into the tub, she noticed that Scarlett had little bits of her dinner tangled in her hair. She sighed and closed her eyes, knowing that this bath was going to be a struggle. Scarlett hated having her hair washed. Not that Molly could blame her. The child's hair, while beautiful, was extremely difficult to manage. It fell in perfect corkscrew curls to the middle of her back. Given her parents, it wasn't surprising that it was also so thick that putting it up was nearly impossible. No clips or barrettes were capable of holding up the heavy masses of hair for more than a few minutes. And hair ties were out of the question. The one time Molly had tried one, Sherlock had spent the better part of an evening cutting and disentangling the elastic band from Scarlett's hair while she screamed bloody murder. "Hair tie" was a dirty word in the Holmes household. "Oh Scarlett… how did you get your dinner everywhere?"

"I not know, Mummy," Scarlett replied as Molly sat her down on the floor and began pulling her shirt over her head. "I use a spoon like you say." Of course, Scarlett using a spoon mostly consisted of her stirring her food around, scooping it up in the utensil and then using her fingers to eat whatever was in the spoon. Despite Scarlett's dancing around, Molly managed to get her undressed and into the tub. The little girl immediately started splashing wildly. Molly laughed, remembering when Scarlett had first discovered the joys of getting her parents soaking wet. She had discovered splashing at nearly a year old and Sherlock had been the first sacrificial experiment. That night, by the time they were done he looked like he'd been swimming in all of his clothes. His crisp, white shirt plastered to his skin and almost see-through. After that, Scarlett's parents had grown wiser, opting to disrobe from the waist up before letting the child into her bath.

Scarlett played with her toys: a little boat, a couple of broken soap crayons and one of Gabriel's discarded action figures. Though, truth be told, she preferred playing with the bar of soap and flannel. She sang to herself as Molly went around the tiny bathroom looking for a towel and the cup she used to help rinse Scarlett's hair. "Mummy, why I got to go bed? Bre stay up."

"Because Gabriel is nine years old. When you're nine, you'll get to stay up later too." Molly retrieved the cup from the top shelf of the cupboard, trying to hide it from her daughter. As soon as she saw the pretty pink cup, Scarlett would know she was getting her hair washed and immediately start crying.

"But I not seepy, Mummy."

"You will be," Molly replied, unbuttoning her shirt and tossing it aside. She turned and knelt down by the tub, taking the flannel from Scarlett. "But baby girls need lots of sleep."

"I not a baby!" Scarlett seemed insulted by the implication. "I a big girl."

Molly giggled and began dribbling water over Scarlett's shoulders and tummy. "Yes you are, but you're still my baby."

"I not a baby," she said with a pout.

"Not even Daddy's baby?"

Scarlett seemed to think this over. It would be unthinkable not to be her father's baby. There were few things she liked more than being cradled and kissed by Sherlock. "Okay, maybe Daddy's baby." Molly giggled and lathered the soap on the flannel until large soapy suds were dripping from her hands. "I do it myself, Mummy!" She grabbed at the flannel and rubbed it over her skin as she had seen Molly do it so many times before. Though, there wasn't much chance that any dirt would actually be removed. "See! I do it!"

"You're doing beautifully, darling. Just let Mummy get your face." Molly managed to get the flannel from her and scrubbed her tiny face as she squirmed. "Oh, Scarlett… how did you manage to get dirt on the end of your nose?" Scarlett gave an evil chuckle in response. "At least your feet aren't like Gabriel's."

"Bre feet?"

"Yes, Gabriel's feet are always disgusting and black on the bottoms." Molly wrinkled her nose, drawing another giggle from Scarlett. It was true enough, though. During the warmer months, it was difficult to keep Gabriel's shoes on his feet. He tromped around the house without shoes all the time. They even got a call from the school one day that Gabriel had actually lost one while playing outside. It was later discovered that a neighborhood dog had taken off with it. "Okay, Sugarplum, let's get your hair washed." She tried to sound cheerful about the whole thing, but as predicted, Scarlett went ballistic as soon as she saw that her mother was holding the little pink cup.

"Nooo…" Scarlett whined as Molly opened the spigot behind her, getting the water warm. She tried to push Molly's arm away from the faucet.

"Oh, don't be so silly, Scar-baby. You have to have your hair washed." She used one hand to brace the little girl's back and the other to nudge her head back. Scarlett did not like it and immediately began to squirm and splash. "Scarlett! Stop it!" Molly scolded. "You're going to fall."

"I not like it, Mummy!" She continued to thrash as Molly poured water from the cup gently over her daughter's head, taking care not to let it go in her eyes. "Daddy!" she shouted. "I want my Daddy!"

"He'd hardly save you, silly. There's nothing for it. We have to wash your hair." Suddenly she had an idea. Distraction was a powerful tool in the mummy arsenal. "Let's sing a song, Scarlett." She knew her daughter's weakness and as soon as they began to sing "London Bridge is Falling Down," Scarlett quieted and at least let her mother get the shampoo in her hair. It wasn't until Molly's fingers became tangled in the long, auburn ringlets that Scarlett began to howl again. Molly sighed and began to scrub the knotty hair faster. They were so close to the end now. She began a chorus of "Frere Jacques," ignoring Scarlett's wailing.

Mercifully, Molly was able to get the child's hair clean without any further mishaps. She'd been praying that soap wouldn't drip down into the child's eyes. That had happened one other time and one would have thought that the child had been burned with acid. Molly spied the clock overhead, noting how late it was, and decided that it would be best just to comb some conditioner into Scarlett's hair and twist it into a loose braid rather than trying to dry it. Scarlett still sniffled, but allowed her mother to comb gently through her locks and get her dried off. Of course, once the towel was unwrapped, she couldn't help herself and took off running naked through the house.

"Scarlett!" Molly called, unable to contain her giggles.

The little girl made a beeline to Sherlock and Gabriel. "Where are your clothes, Peaseblossom?" Sherlock asked with a chuckle. Gabriel was unimpressed and went back to dozing with his head on his father's arm.

"Gone."

"Gone? Forever?"

"Yep. I no wear clothes anymore." Scarlett stood up tall, proud that she had declared herself a nudist.

"You'll get awfully cold," Sherlock replied, putting an arm around her. She immediately began pushing Gabriel out of his lap and climbing into it.

"Go away, Scarlett!" Gabriel whined, pushing back. "You're all wet and I'm sitting with Dad."

"I sit wiv my Daddy," Scarlett said.

"Dad!"

Sherlock looked helpless until Molly came over and scooped Scarlett up in a towel. "All right, you. Leave your brother alone. It's bedtime for you."

Molly was lying in bed, dozing lightly, her book open on her lap, when Sherlock came to bed finally. She opened her eyes and watched as he undressed. Even after all this time, watching the muscles in his back and shoulders work as he tugged at his shirt and bent down to push his trousers over the blunt plane of his hip, made her mouth water. "I thought you'd never get here," Molly said, with a yawn and long stretch.

"Waiting up for me, were you?"

"Always." She'd heard Gabriel go up the stairs to bed at least a couple of hours ago, but the tired look of his eyes told Molly that Sherlock had been peering through the microscope and pouring over some case file for Lestrade. The case he'd been putting off all evening to watch a film with Gabriel. Molly smiled, her heart fluttering with love for him and other more unmentionable places fluttering with lust at this show of sentimentality.

He crawled into bed beside her, rolling over to look down on her face as she curled into his side. "That's really sweet, you know."

"What's that?" he asked, his fingertip brushing lightly over the arch of her eyebrow.

"How you sat there with Gabriel all night like that. It meant a lot to him."

He looked slightly puzzled by this admission. "It's not that unusual is it?"

"Well no, but since Scarlett got here, he gets starved for your undivided attention. Anyway, I thought it was very sweet of you."

Sherlock smiled and leaned in to press a kiss to her lips. "What do I win?" he asked with a gravelly voice as he pulled back.

"Well… I do have a fresh, diseased kidney in the lab fridge just waiting for you…"

"Oh, my favorite." He kissed her again, this time with obvious intent. His sinuous fingertips slid all over her body, finding the tiny, hidden ticklish places that he'd come to know so well. He'd learned her body in the same way he'd learned everything else: memorizing every feature in her complicated geography. He knew just the right amount of pressure to exert with each touch, just the right things to whisper in her ear. Sherlock was an intoxicating and feverish dream that just went on and on. Molly was quite certain that her desire for him would stretch into forever with perfect ease.

"Oh… before you get too lost in that," Molly sighed. "We have to talk about Scarlett's hair."

"What?" he asked, his voice faraway as he continued to nibble at the plump vein at the base of her throat.

"Scarlett… her hair…" Her words trailed into a nonsensical moan as his thumb found the sensitive line just under her arm that reached its terminus at the curve of her breast. "It's… it needs to be cut. All of it."

Sherlock stopped immediately, pulling back and looking at Molly with confusion. "All of it? What do you mean?"

"I mean her hair is so long and wild… it's an absolute terror to wash it or brush it anymore. She screams and cries. I just don't think I can do it anymore. I think if we just took her and had it cut to her chin…it would be precious."

"Molly, her hair has never been cut."

"I know. That's my point. It's gotten out of control."

"Her hair is stunning. I don't think we should cut it."

"Sherlock," Molly sighed, sitting up slightly. "She's not a baby anymore. And it's just too much."

"She is so a baby. She's my baby! And I like her hair." He huffed and sat up. "We're not cutting it!"

"Why not?"

"Because she's a beautiful little girl with lovely red ringlets. There's no reason to cut it."

"She'll still be beautiful, Sherlock. I'm not suggesting a buzz cut."

"Gabe's hair is curly. You've never mentioned chopping his off," he countered.

"No, because we don't have to worry about braiding Gabe's. Or brushing it for him. Or washing and blowdrying it. He takes care of that himself. It takes me almost an hour every day to fix Scarlett's hair and she screams the whole time!"

Sherlock rolled over, away from Molly. When he showed his back, it was a signal that all conversation should cease. "I'm not cutting my baby's hair."

"Fine. Then you get to deal with your baby's hair!"