With Sherly on his hip, Sherlock looked around the cupboard, showing her the different foods that were available. John watched from the doorway, his arms crossed. It wasn't that he didn't believe in Sherlock Holmes, but he didn't think that he would be able to take care of the picky girl.
Eventually, they came away with bread, nutella, and potato chips. John only shook his head and straightened.
"Mary will a fit if she ever finds out that Sherly ate this for dinner," John hissed once Sherlock put Sherly in the normal chair, her nose barely meeting the table top. Sherlock looked at John, confused.
"Why?"
"Because it is unhealthy, and frankly, more of a dessert than a meal," John whispered as Sherlock looked back at his daughter, who was rather excited.
"Would you rather have her throwing a tantrum?" Sherlock asked as John thought a moment, a stern look on his face.
"This is ridiculous," John complained, shaking his head. Sherlock gave a winning smile and went to make dinner for his figurative niece. John sat down at the table, watching. "Where did you learn to make sandwiches?"
"Contrary to popular belief, I actually do know how to cook," Sherlock muttered, sticking the knife in the jar.
"Yum," Sherly whispered, staring at the chocolatey mass as John hid a smile.
"Voila," Sherlock whispered, handing the small girl a mangled chocolate sandwich and a big pile of chips. John took a deep breath, hoping that Mary wasn't going to find out about this little indulgence.