If anyone had been listening hard enough, they would have heard John Watson muttering to himself as he made his way to the crime scene Sherlock had texted him about.

"Bloody Sherlock bloody Holmes...doesn't think other people actually have jobs to go to..." Shaking his head in exasperation, John ducked under the tape that surrounded the entrance to the small basement flat and made his way inside. He stopped in his tracks at the sight before him. It wasn't the body on the floor that caused him to stop, nor his best friend who was currently painstakingly scanning the room. It was the little figure Lestrade held in his arms, clad in red raincoat and matching wellies.

"You brought Isabel to a crime scene? You know Molly will have you thoroughly murdered if she finds out, right?" John glanced at his best friend, he expression equally puzzled and amused.

"Well it was either that or I leave her at home. I think Molly would be more inclined to murder me if I'd left her alone. She is only 9 months old John, not quite capable of taking care of herself yet. I would have thought as a father yourself you would know that." Sherlock's tone was so utterly serious it left John dumbstruck. John looked to Lestrade who merely shrugged. Isabel meanwhile giggled and kicked her little legs while Lestrade held her.

Sherlock turned his attention to the body, kneeling down to scrutinise it closely.

"Well, what have you got?" Lestrade asked while passing Isabel over to John who she'd been reaching for.

"A problem." Sherlock answered as he stood up, looking perplexed. "I can't make sense of this body. I only know one person who could..."

"Molly." John stated with a more than slightly smug grin, balancing Isabel on his hip. With a resigned sigh Sherlock slipped his phone out of his pocket, quickly dialling his wife's number. He hoped she wasn't in the middle of an autopsy.

"Molly. No no, Isabel's fine...Yes Dominick is still at school...No Molly, I'm at a crime scene...I need you to come and look at a body for me...of course I didn't leave our daughter at home..."

"YOU TOOK MY BABY TO A CRIME SCENE?!" Sherlock had held the phone away from his ear before Molly could raise her voice. John and Lestrade both flinched, having been on the receiving end of a similar tone of voice from their own wives at various times. With a sigh, Sherlock patiently held the phone back to his ear.

"Molly, as bright as Isabel is, she's far too young to possibly understand where she is or what's going on..." Another sigh slipped from the detective's lips "I'll text you the address. Molly, I love you." Sherlock turned away from the other occupants of the room as he ended the call and fired off a text to Molly. While he'd long overcome his dislike of showing sentiment in the presence of his wife or children it was another thing entirely to show it in front of others.

The consulting detective pocketed his phone and stepped around the body to retrieve his daughter from John's arms.

"I'll just go and wait outside for Molly." With that Sherlock turned, belstaff swishing behind him and baby settled on his hip.

When Molly's cab pulled up some 10 minutes later she'd had time to calm down. On balance she supposed bringing Isabel to a crime scene was better than leaving her at home. It was also about as responsible as Sherlock got. Not that Molly had any fear for her daughter's life, she knew Sherlock would never let any actual harm come to either of their children. It was more the idea of a 9 month old being around crime scene's and bodies, but given her parentage it was bound to happen sooner or later.

Molly paid the cabbie and made her way across the road to where Sherlock and their daughter waited, the consulting detective holding up the police tape for her.

"I am still unbelievably cross with you. You had better make it up to me later Mr. Holmes." Molly stated, fighting the smile that she could never really keep off her face at the sight of him.

"As you wish, Mrs. Holmes." Sherlock replied playfully, deducing that he was forgiven. He bent down slightly, mindful of the baby balanced on his hip, and placed the lightest of kisses upon his wife's lips.

Once Molly had regained the ability to breath, she brushed her hand over her daughter's cheek, smiling indulgently at her little girl. Sherlock led the way then stood back with John and Lestrade as Molly got to work. The admiration for his wife was utterly undisguised while he watched her work. Isabel was more interested in attempting to detach one of the buttons from her father's coat.

Molly stood back and regarded the body with a look of sadness. She always felt bad for them, especially the younger ones and this one couldn't have been more than 20 years old.

"He was strangled, probably by a man. There was a woman here too, the bruises on his wrists look like finger marks but they're smaller than the ones on his neck. He fought though, one of his fingernails looks broken so he might have scratched one of them." Molly crossed the room to stand by Sherlock who immediately held Isabel out to her. As much as Molly loved her job Sherlock knew how much it pained her to deal with so much death and there was nothing that chased that pain away quicker than a cuddle with their children.

"I don't think there's too much you can do wrong here Lestrade." Sherlock stated, an arm slipping comfortably around Molly's shoulders. Sherlock, Molly and Isabel made their way outside, followed closely by John.

"Sherlock, what was that about? I know you'll have deduced everything about that body the second you saw him." Molly asked her husband with a quirk of an eyebrow.

Sherlock shrugged, the hint of a smile on his lips. "Molly, despite what the world might think of me, even I can't be right all the time." Of course he wasn't going to admit that he'd missed her and wanted to spend some time with her. Molly looked over her shoulder, exchanging sceptical looks with John.

"John, we'd love to have you, Mary and Lucy over for tea if you're not up to anything tonight?" Molly adjusted Isabel who was now dozing quietly against her mother's shoulder and leaned into Sherlock's side while they waited to for a cab.

"I don't think we've got anything planned. Do you want us to collect Dominick from school with Lucy?" John asked while he pulled his phone out of his pocket and sent off a quick text to Mary about their evenings plans.

"You don't mind?"

"Course not." John answered Molly with a smile.

Sherlock waved down a passing cab and helped Molly get settled without jostling a now sound asleep Isabel too much. The 4 of them were soon on their way back to Baker Street while Scotland Yard's finest swarmed around a small basement flat and it's occupant.