Trolleys and Toddlers
"Sherlock?!" John hissed under his breath, "Where the hell are you?" "What do you think you're doing?!" a screech rang across the aisles. 'That's where he is'. John raised an eyebrow in exasperation. Veering the trolley, he proceeded to the source of the noise. I'm going to kill him.
Earlier that day
"Sherlock, I'm going to Sainsbury. Do you need anything?" He stepped into the kitchen to find Sherlock and Rosie with goggles on. There was a container with some kind of orange liquid in it. "What the...?" Watson started but controlled himself. "Don't tell me. I don't want to know." John breathed out, trying to concentrate on the matter at hand, "as I was saying, we're out of, well a lot of things and I'm going to Sainsbury."
Sherlock added a white powder and the orange liquid oozed onto the slab and into the sink. He shielded Rosie in the blink of an eye. There was a hissing and the faucet shot off, spilling water into the kitchen like a merry little fountain. The doctor glared at Sherlock, water dripping off his dirty blonde hair. After wrenching the faucet shut, he turned to the taller man.
Captain John H. Watson spoke in a clear voice, "We are going to Saintsbury."
Present
"Sherlock?!" John stared in disbelief.
A plump woman was busy shouting at the taller man who closed Rosie's ears to prevent the downpour. "Well it doesn't change the fact that your son hit Rosie first." he merely stated at the end of the holler.
"What's going on here?" Captain Watson entered the aisle.
Sherlock stiffened while the woman started her barrage again, thinking she had earned an ally or at least a sympathizer. "This man's daughter hit my son and then took his lolly. I don't know what they teach the child; probably takes after her father." She ended with a huff, glaring at Sherlock accusingly.
John quietly unpursed his lips. "Actually, she takes after her mother," he stated with a tilted head, "though in your defence, Sherlock takes care of Rosie more than I do."
The woman looked between the toddler and the two men and drew the same assumption that all the diners and officers at Scotland Yard had. "Oh, you're...um...ok, excuse me." She quickly wheeled her trolley away, nudging her child to keep quiet.
John shot Sherlock an exasperated look and then looked up, seemingly at Mary. He was about to question the detective as to what he was up to when a couple appeared beside the two men. "So Mr. Holmes, which one is better?" the man showed them different boxes of baby food. "We couldn't find the one you mentioned." the woman stated. "This one will do if your child isn't allergic to oranges." Sherlock drawled glancing at the labels. John's jaw dropped. The woman glanced at the man in the jumper with a raised eyebrow.
Sherlock followed her gaze. "This is Rosie's father, Dr. Watson." he stated nonchalantly.
"I see." The lady smiled. The man shot a thumbs-up and the couple wheeled their trolley away. John rolled his eyes while flexing his fingers to control his irritation. An old man was next, followed by two college students and a family of five. John stared as the Sociopath quietly offered his expertise. The army doctor drew a deep breath and proceeded to the billing counter.
The billing machine was like all machines when one loses one's temper; it was malfunctioning. "Oh, for the love of God!" Watson exclaimed, nearly punching it. "Just process the damn transaction!"
The old man behind them stopped mumbling and looked visibly concerned. Sherlock smiled imperceptibly but moved ahead to help the blogger. Placing Rosie on the trolley, he swiftly took John's card and got the receipt. A message pinged on John's mobile and Sherlock coolly handed the card back. He picked Rosie up from the trolley and proceeded to the entrance.
"You should be nice more often...he's a keeper," the old man quipped from behind.
John gritted his teeth and shot a forced smile, "He is not my husband."
"Ah, live and let live." The old man waved his hand haphazardly, pushing his trolley towards the billing counter. The exasperated doctor picked up the groceries and stepped out the glass door.
The sociopath was standing a few feet away, slowly rocking the toddler and looking at the sky, stating the names of constellations. Watson felt his irritation ebb away; a smile crept into the corner of his mouth. Walking up to his friend, John popped a bubble at Rosie and the two-year-old giggled. "The solar system interest you all of sudden?" he asked, staring at the sky beside the taller man.
"Rosie might want to know." Sherlock replied, still cradling the toddler who was beginning to get drowsy.
"She's two years old." The blogger turned to face the detective.
"Well, it is the solar system." Sherlock stated with a smile.
John smiled tongue in cheek. "Yes. Yes, it is."