A/N: An update! This is one of those parts where its just a lot of little situations that may or may not be tied to much. I hope you like it anyway. It kind of took my mind off my troubles today. Hope you like it! As always, thanks to those of you who are reading and commenting. It feeds my muse and makes me smile!

Disclaimer: I own nothing except Gabe and Scarlett.

Scarlett loved the phone. Molly thought it would be a good idea to teach her how to answer the phone. Though she had proven in her three years that she was a brilliant child, her speech was not as clear as it should be. In fact, it worried her mother so much that Scarlett had been subjected to hearing screenings from both John and her regular pediatrician. They had turned up that while she was by no means deaf, she did have a slight impairment that was affecting her speech. Mrs. Hudson wouldn't hear of it. She claimed the child was simply obstinate and that her problems were only because her parents babied her and didn't require that she speak clearly. At any rate, since the diagnosis everyone was making a special effort to encourage her and using the phone would be good practice.

Scarlett was building a puzzle on the floor when she saw her father's mobile phone light up on the coffee table. She stood up and wandered over, watching it vibrate across the table. Finally deciding that no one was going to come down and get it, she picked it up herself.

"'ello there! This muh daddy phone."

"Uhm… hello? I was looking for Sherlock Holmes?"

"Yep," Scarlett replied.

"You're Sherlock Holmes?"

"Nope. I Scarlett Holmes. Who you?"

"Uh… my name is Billy. Look, can I talk to Sherlock?"

"No, thank you, Billy."

"Why not?"

"You not ask nice."

The caller sighed in exasperation, making Scarlett wince with the volume of his breath against the mouthpiece. "May I please talk to Sherlock?"

"Why you need him?"

"I need his help with something."

"Daddy a good helper," she agreed. "He help me this morning. My head got 'tuck in my jumper."

"That's nice. Can I please talk to Sherlock now?"

"Is your head 'tuck in your jumper?"

Long silence on the other end. "I'll call back later."

"'kay, bye Billy!"

Soon, everyone calling the detective: friends, family, clients, they all began to expect a long conversation with the three year old before they got through to Sherlock. John had even related a story on his blog about an unfortunate who was stupid enough to speak to Scarlett rudely as a warning to other potential clients with short fuses. Not only had he refused the case, but Sherlock found the offending caller and made him call and apologize to the child. It was only slightly difficult to speak with Sherlock's hand clenched tightly around his throat.

OoOoOo

"I'm worried about her, John." Molly sat on the table in John's office, nervously fiddling with the ends of her scarf. "All the tests that you ran on Scarlett pointed to her having a slight hearing loss, but I think it's getting worse."

John flipped the chart in front of him closed and turned to look at her. "What makes you think that?"

"Well her speech isn't right. It just isn't right, John. I can't explain it and Mrs. Hudson still contends that there's really nothing wrong with her, but something isn't right. Sometimes, she speaks pretty clearly, the way a three year old should. But there are other times when the only person who can understand her at all is Gabriel. And she gets so angry, John. The other day, the poor thing was trying to ask me for her pencil. I had no idea what she was asking for and made her repeat it a few times until finally she got so angry that she scattered her crayons everywhere and ran away to her room."

"But you said she can hear most noises, right?"

"Depends on what the noise is. We made an effort to turn the volume up higher than we normally would on the television and stereo—even the mobile phones. She can always hear Sherlock, but sometimes misses things I say to her. John, I was standing right beside her the other day speaking and she didn't look up."

John smirked. "To be fair, her father does that too."

Molly chuckled, her shoulders relaxing just slightly. "True. But you can tell he can hear you, he just can't be bothered. It's different with Scarlett. What if she's going deaf, John? Can that happen to little ones?"

"Well, Mols… it can. I remember Scarlett having some really terrible ear infections as an infant, which can cause damage. But I'm not a specialist. Have you talked to Sherlock about seeing one?"

Molly nodded. "He doesn't want to make such a big deal out of it. He doesn't deny that there's a problem, but I think he's hoping it will go away on its own. Especially after the ENT visit."

"The ENT visit?"

Molly sighed and nodded. "After the pediatrician told us that her screening showed some impairment, he suggested we take her to see the ENT to be sure there wasn't anything else going on. He cleaned out the child's ears with what can only be described as a spear. You know those stories about the Ancient Egyptians scrambling your brains and pulling them out through the nose? Yeah, I think this guy was practicing for the British Museum."

"Jesus…"

"Scarlett screamed, Sherlock pinned the poor man to the wall, the nurse almost called the police. It was terrible. And now I have to clean her ears while she's asleep because if I come near her with a cotton bud she screams."

"Well did he find anything? Like wax buildup or a tumor or anything?"

"No. He said he'd need a CAT scan to see anything further and Sherlock refused, arguing that Scarlett had been tortured enough. On the one hand, I agree with him, but on the other, I have this feeling that something is wrong. That's why I came to see you without Sherlock. I've tried talking to him about it and he just shuts down. Like he can't even entertain the notion that his child might not be perfect."

"I don't think it's that, Mols. He's probably just as concerned as you are, but is trying to downplay it in his own mind." He leaned forward and patted Molly's hand reassuringly. "Look, if it will make you feel better, I'll take another look at her. And then, if there's anything out of the ordinary, I can recommend a pediatric ENT. In the meantime, just keep encouraging her to talk as much as possible. If for no other reason than to generate more comedy on the blog when she answers the mobile."

OoOoOo

Sherlock's mobile went off with the most obnoxious ringtone and Scarlett looked up from her drawing. She waited to see if her mum or dad would come to get it, but neither appeared. Gabriel sat on the other side of the room playing a game on his tablet, ignoring the phone as it rung again. Scarlett sighed. "Bre, you get it."

"I'm busy. Can't you just answer it?"

"Where Da?"

"He's taking a shower, Scarlett. Get it before the call gets missed!"

Scarlett slammed her Crayola against the table and loped toward where the phone was vibrating on the table. "'ello. Wha want?"

"Scarlett!" Gabriel snapped. "Don't be rude! And say your words right."

"You not my Da," she replied, then turned back to the phone. "What want, pease?" Scarlett amended, taking care to say each syllable.

"Uhm... Gabriel?"

"Nope. Scarlett."

"Oh!" the caller exclaimed, then laughed. It was a woman with lovely, tinkling laughter that made Scarlett grin as she listened. "I didn't think you were old enough to answer the mobile yet."

"I three years old," Scarlett said. "How old you are, lady?"

"Too old for you, little one. Can I speak to your brother? Gabriel?"

Scarlett's expression changed from amused to upset. Gabriel caught this out of the corner of his eye and immediately put the tablet aside and motioned for her to come over. She didn't hear what the caller said. "Uhmm…" she stammered. "I not hear."

"It's okay, Scarlett. I've got it," Gabriel said, taking the mobile from her and letting his little sister crawl into his lap. "This is Gabriel. Can I help you?"

"Oh! Gabriel! Hello darling. It's so nice to hear your voice!" Gabriel smiled. It was Irene. She hadn't called for a few months and though he hadn't missed her much, it was good to know she was still in the world.

"Hi, Irene! Sorry about that. We're trying to teach Scarlett to talk on the phone and she doesn't always understand."

"It's all right, precious. I can't believe she's old enough to talk, much less answer Sherlock's mobile."

"He's sending her out on cases soon. She's pretty clever." He grinned and tickled Scarlett's ears until she was giggling.

"Well she would be, wouldn't she? How is school? Still top of your class?"

"Of course," Gabriel replied smugly. "But Katie beat me in math races last week."

"Uh oh. Lovers' quarrel?"

Gabriel let out a groan. He and Katie had been arguing a lot lately. She was his best friend and they still played together a lot, but now she seemed to always want Archie around too. "She's not my girlfriend."

Irene laughed in that teasing way that sometimes made Gabriel uncomfortable. Like she was laughing at him. "That sounds familiar."

"What do you mean?"

"Your father never had a girlfriend either."

"Oh. Anyway, I think she wants Archie for her boyfriend."

"Who is Archie?"

"He's my friend that likes Katie," Gabriel said, suddenly not so happy to be talking.

"Oh I see. Well I wouldn't worry about that, Gabriel. Little girls behave very strangely sometimes. I'm sure she'll come around. But if you like her, then tell her so."

"Dad says I'm only ten and shouldn't worry about stuff like that."

"He's right, but I know it's hard to do sometimes."

"And besides, I don't want a girlfriend." Gabriel delivered this last statement with all the venom and displeasure that he could muster, his face screwed up in an expression that was so very Sherlock that Scarlett giggled at seeing it.

"You just don't want him to have her," Irene continued knowingly.

"Exactly."

Just then, Sherlock emerged from the back of the house, scrubbing his hair with a towel. "That is the last time I go looking for a body, shuffling around in a swamp. Ugh."

"Daddy!" Scarlett exclaimed, scrambling out of Gabriel's lap and rushing over. She hugged him around the waist and reached to be picked up. "Missou, Da!" she said, pressing her cheek against his.

"I missed you too, Peaseblossom," he replied, annunciating his words for her. "Did you have fun with Mary and Izzy today?"

"Yep. Izzy take a nap but I not wan' to."

"Oh? And why is that?"

Scarlett shrugged. "They still sleep. I get up wiv Bre."

"With Bre," he said, letting her see the way he used his teeth and tongue to form the words. Before she could repeat the words, Gabriel ended his call with Irene and handed the mobile back to his father. "Who was calling? Or did you solve the case on your own?"

Gabriel laughed. "It was Irene. She's in London this week and wanted to know if I could do something with her."

"Like what kind of something?"

"Dinner and maybe a museum. She didn't say, really."

Sherlock picked at a bit of lint in Scarlett's hair. She mimicked him, pulling at his damp curls. "Well do you want to?"

"I guess. I mean, I don't want to make her feel bad." Gabriel shrugged. "And I don't want to go by myself."

"No," Sherlock said. "You don't go with Irene by yourself."

"Not that I want to, but why?" Gabriel asked.

"Long story. But I don't trust her to keep you both out of trouble."

Scarlett had grown tired of all this conversation that she was not a part of. "Where Mummy?"

"Where is Mummy?" Gabriel corrected.

"You hush, Bre!" she scolded. "I not talk to you."