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03 January 2013 @ 07:34 pm
Sherlock: Christmas Future  
Title: Christmas Future
Characters: John, Sherlock, Sarah, Abby (OC)
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Spoilers: A passing reference to The Reichenbach Fall
Pairings: John/Sarah
Word count: 2,855
Summary: John has Christmas dinner with his family--both the official and the adopted members.
Author's notes: We all probably knew this was coming, right? There appears to be only so long I can be in a fandom before I throw a child in. I regret nothing! I am nothing if not predictable.

Once upon a time this was somewhat justified as it being a trilogy of Christmas Past, Christmas Present and Christmas Future, but I only got the Christmas Future done. I wanted it to post it before Epiphany and the end of the season.

I didn't want to use Mary, in case the show brings her in and she's radically different from what I imagined. So I've used Sarah, because I like and know Sarah. Hastily thrown together backstory is that she and John get back together during the Hiatus. I've also imagined that future!Sherlock has slightly better social skills from his years with John. Slightly.

John had not intended to fall asleep. He had been seduced by how peaceful Sarah and Abby looked having their nap and he thought he could lie down for a few minutes and rest. Sarah had picked up a nasty flu that was going around the surgery and though it had passed, one of the lingering side effects was pure exhaustion. John had been running around trying to get Christmas together and keep up with Sherlock while Sarah was ill. Thank God they'd decided not to race around like idiots this year to try and do Christmas with both sides of the family. They had politely declined all invitations and were instead just staying home and celebrating together. If they'd tried to get to Norwich to Sarah's mum's and Aldershot to Sarah's dad's and deal with Harry on top of everything, they'd both be dead.

He awoke three hours later, disorientated as to where he was and what he was doing. They used the guest room on the ground floor as a room for Abby to nap in and John wasn't used to waking up in it. He glanced at his watch and sat up, carefully moving so as not to wake Sarah next to him. He peeked into Abby's cot. She was asleep, curled up like a bunny with her backside in the air and sucking on her thumb.

He sneaked out and headed down the hallway, trying to remember if there was anything he was supposed to have done before Sarah woke up again. He didn't think so. Everything was ready for dinner.

“Gah!” he said, as he walked into the living room and found Sherlock sitting on the sofa. “Jesus, Sherlock! When did you get here?”

Sherlock looked up from the book he was reading—John's book that Sarah had given him as a present that morning. “Fifteen minutes ago,” he said. “I used the key you gave me.”

“I didn't give you the key, Sherlock, you stole mine and had it copied,” John pointed out.

Sherlock shrugged. “I thought it was important for me to be able to get in to your house, given the dangerous nature of our work,” he said. “You or your family might be in trouble someday.”

“No, you got stroppy because there was a part of my life you didn't have access to,” John said.

“That's very self-centred thinking, John,” Sherlock said. “It's not like you.”

John rolled his eyes. “Why didn't you tell someone you were here?”

“I assumed someone would find me eventually,” Sherlock said. “You were obviously all asleep. And having spent several years having to wake you up for cases, I didn't think trying to rouse you would be good for my personal safety.”

John smirked. “I only kicked you that one time and you deserved it,” he said. He flopped down into a nearby chair. “You've lost me five quid, by the way. I bet Sarah you'd find some case to blow us off with.”

Sherlock pulled out his wallet and reached across the gap to hand John a fiver. “I tried,” he said. “But there wasn't anything interesting. And Lestrade's turned his phone off. And the last time I went to his sister's house during a holiday, I was banned from the Yard for a week.” He nodded toward a box on the coffee table. “I brought Abby a present. Mrs Hudson said I needed to, after I forgot her birthday.”

John reached back across the gap and returned the fiver. “I bet you'd remember a present if you did come,” he said. “Sarah said you wouldn't.”

“Do you often bet on my social skills?” Sherlock asked, with a bemused smirk.

“Yeah,” John said. “You've netted me a good hundred quid over the years.”

“And how much have you lost?” Sherlock said.

“'Bout the same,” John said. “You're unpredictable. It's about even odds both ways.”

Sherlock grinned, apparently finding this more amusing than insulting. “Who's bet on my eating at dinner?” he asked.

“Me,” John said.

“You always were a terrible gambler,” Sherlock said.

His eyes flicked expectantly toward the door to the living room and a moment later, Abby padded carefully in, her arms held out to the side for balance. She smiled happily at Sherlock and set her trajectory in his direction.

“You're supposed to be napping with Mummy,” John scolded. “How'd you get all the way out here by yourself, huh?”

Abby ignored him, determined to get to Sherlock, who was sitting as still as a statue, like she was a wild creature whose attention he was trying not to attract. “Oh no!” she said, which was her new catchphrase.

“Oh no is right,” John said. “Running around in your nappy isn't ladylike, miss. Where are your pyjama bottoms?”

Abby balanced herself on Sherlock's knee and then raised her arms to be lifted up. Sherlock ignored her. She kept her arms raised. Sherlock ignored her. There was a stalemate for several seconds and John couldn't decide who he was going to bet on to win. After it was getting ridiculous, he stepped in himself and picked up Abby, and Sherlock's present for her, taking them both back to the chair with him.

“Let's see what madness Uncle Sherlock has bought for you,” he said, settling Abby on his lap.

She tore into the paper happily, a skill she'd learned that morning and had later applied to his case notes with equal enthusiasm. John would have laid money on it being wrapped in the shop and probably bought a few minutes before the shops closed the day before.

“The saleslady said it was age appropriate,” Sherlock said, defensively. “I wanted to get a book, but there wasn't anything remotely interesting in the right age range. All about woodland creatures in clothing teaching about manners and sharing.”

“You should have bought a couple for yourself,” John said. “You might have learned something.”

“I know about manners and sharing,” Sherlock said. “I just consider them a waste of time. The shop girl said she might still be too young for a science set, so I had to choose something else. Apparently this is popular. It teaches maths and languages.”

It looked to be some sort of owl cuddly toy with buttons on its stomach to make it talk. John removed it from the box and held it out to Abby. She took the box and ran away with it, leaving him with the owl.

“Don't be offended, she's done the same thing with everything else we've bought her,” John said. He examined the instructions. “Looks like it needs some assembly anyway.”

Sherlock took it from him, always happy to find something to assemble or disassemble.

“Yay!” Abby said. It was her other catchphrase. She put the box on the floor and ran around to collect objects to put into it. Sherlock snatched his scarf away protectively before she could grab it. She took his gloves instead.

“Those don't belong to you,” Sherlock informed her.

Abby ignored him and dropped them in her box with great purpose. Sherlock looked to John in silent appeal.

“You're the one who didn't buy her the book on manners,” John said, with a laugh. He got up and scooped Abby into his arms. “C'mon, brat, we'll show off the Christmas frock Mrs H sent. She wanted pictures. And I'm hoping we can discourage this habit you have of taking off your trousers.”

“Oh no!” Abby said.

By the time John had wrestled Abby into her dress and taken a moment to catch his breath, Sarah had woken up. She was in the living room with Sherlock, looking a bit stunned from her nap. Sherlock seemed to have somehow found a screwdriver and was working on putting Abby's toy together.

“Oh, don't you look pretty!” Sarah said, when John set Abby on the floor.

“It's too big for her,” Sherlock said, critically.

“Yeah, kids grow, Sherlock,” John said. “If it fit her now, it'd be good for a month. She can grow into it and we can keep it for a bit. She wouldn't wear the Alice band.”

He tossed it over to Sarah, who was still too stunned to catch it. Sherlock did one of his ninja moves and plucked it from the air.

“Yay!” Abby said, delighted by the display. She clapped her hands together. “Again!”

“No,” Sherlock said, tersely.

Sarah exchanged an amused smile with John and retrieved the Alice band from Sherlock. “I'll get dinner ready,” she said. “Everything's done, it just needs to be assembled. Abby can help me.”

She took Abby by the hand and encouraged her to walk to the kitchen with her. She gave John a kiss on the cheek as she passed by.

John flopped back into the chair and settled in to pay attention to Sherlock without distractions. Sherlock had a tendency to behave as though John had moved to the other side of the world, instead of five minutes away (or less) by any form of transportation. They still saw each other almost every day and the only difference from John's point of view was that Sherlock rang him up to meet him at crime scenes instead of going together. And during the time since he'd moved out of Baker Street, he'd missed exactly three cases—one on his honeymoon, one when he'd literally contracted the plague during a case and one when Abby was born. Besides, as John liked to point out, Sherlock had disappeared entirely for two years of John's life. John thought he could have a few hours to his family every day without being neglectful. It's not as though Sherlock ever noticed whether or not John was there anyway.

Sherlock didn't view it this way, though. He saw everything as some sort of betrayal and a sign of John getting too domesticated, as though he were going to get fat and get a normal job and lie around shagging his wife all day and producing offspring left and right. John didn't think he had anything against Sarah and Abby; he seemed to tolerate them as much as he tolerated anyone, with perhaps a bit more consideration because they meant something to John. He was simply not a fan of change, and by the time he'd managed to get his head around John living with Sarah, Abby had come along and they hadn't arrived at the acceptance stage of that yet. Even though Abby was 20 months old now.

“Did you get those e-mails I forwarded to you?” John asked.

“Nothing interesting there,” Sherlock said. “Help my dog, help my boyfriend, help me. Nothing worth my time.”

“Well, we did just solve a case yesterday, Sherlock,” John pointed out. “It's not like you've been idle forever. Did they find the accomplice, do you know?”

“Lestrade isn't answering my requests for information,” Sherlock said.

“It's Christmas, he's probably with his family,” John said.

“So I am,” Sherlock retorted, absently. He looked up quickly from the toy he was working on. “I mean, a family. Your family.”

John hid his smile. “I know what you mean,” he said, to prevent him from getting any more flustered. Heaven forbid Sherlock should be seen to care about anyone. “Most people are busy at Christmas. Opening presents, talking to each other, playing games, being in the same room at the same time. That's what most families do.”

“Sounds excruciating,” Sherlock said.

John laughed. “Yeah, it is, usually.”

Sherlock continued to pout. John tried a few different subjects and finally managed to get him ranting enthusiastically about an experiment he and Molly were working on at Barts.

“She's with her family too,” Sherlock complained.

“Nutter,” John deadpanned, managing to earn a smile and a rolling of eyes from Sherlock.

“All right boys, grab a dish and bring it to the dining room,” Sarah called. “Dinner is served.”

John convinced Sherlock to leave the toy and started bringing the food from the kitchen to the dining room. Sherlock went directly to the dining room and did not help with the food. Sarah then put him in charge of getting Abby into her high chair if he wasn't going to be helpful in another way. Mycroft had given them the high chair as a baby gift when Abby was born. It was a space-age looking thing that converted from a high chair to a baby chair to a toddler chair to a child chair and also a chair and small table and possibly a helicopter or race car. John had estimated it cost about 500 quid, and it was definitely the nicest piece of furniture in the house at the moment.

“Abigael, unbend your legs,” John heard Sherlock say, sternly. “Let go of my hair.”

“Oh no!” Abby said.

Eventually all the food was brought in and the crackers were gently cracked so as to avoid scaring Abby. Sherlock donated his crown to her in lieu of wearing it. She kept rolling her eyes upwards in confusion at having it on her head

“Do you want anything, Sherlock?” Sarah asked, as each plate of food was passed around.

“No,” was Sherlock's response, each time.

It looked like John was out another five quid.

Despite Sherlock's refusal to eat, dinner didn't go badly. He was willing to join in on the conversation and wasn't in too bad a mood overall. John always found it hilarious watching Sherlock try to interact with Sarah. He seemed to be genuinely trying hard to get along with her, but also seemed to be under the impression that his usual topics of conversation would be inappropriate. Probably because they usually were. So he tended to do what John thought of 'mimicking normal humans' and talking about the most mundane things possible.

They covered the weather and Abby's development and Sarah's family, Sherlock looking as though he was in physical pain the entire time. Sarah was barely keeping a straight face and John's tongue was sore from him biting it so hard.

“Tell me about your work!” Sarah burst out, when there was a brief lull. “Please. Talk to me about corpses. I want to hear about them.”

Sherlock gave her a confused look, and then looked over to John, as though requesting permission.

“Sherlock's working on an interesting experiment,” John said, helpfully. “With Molly. Tell her about that, Sherlock. Sarah's a doctor. She'll be interested in your findings.”

Sarah nodded in encouragement and Sherlock launched into a complicated explanation about the cadavers Molly was procuring for him and what horrific things he was doing to them. John wasn't entirely sure this was appropriate conversation to be having in front of Abby, but she looked more interested in the little slinky Sherlock had received in his cracker and mimicking Sarah's movement with her fork. He felt like it was something she was going to have to get used to, anyway.

They made it through dinner, John and Sarah keeping the conversation in areas Sherlock was comfortable with. Sarah brought out the plate of dessert and Sherlock handed her a fiver before stealing the majority of the mince tarts. Sarah smirked and passed the fiver on to John.

Lestrade texted Sherlock back, much to his great joy. He flashed his mobile to John, his mouth too full with a tart to read it out to him.

Accomplice found. Sod off. Happy Xmas. -L

After dinner, John helped clear the table and do the washing up. He was halfway through when Sarah crooked her finger at him from the doorway and then made a 'quietly' gesture. John sneaked over and peered out into the living room with her.

Sherlock was sitting cross-legged on the floor, playing with the toy he'd brought for Abby. She sat on her knees next to him and they were both looking at the toy with expressions of extreme seriousness while Sherlock tried to explain how it worked to her. She wasn't getting the hang of pressing the buttons, so he was pressing them for her, making the owl's eyes light up and his beak move to speak little rhymes and songs. Abby looked highly suspicious of this and kept shooting Sherlock looks of concern.

“It's worth a good deal of money,” he complained to her. “It's scientifically proven to be entertaining to someone of your age.”

Abby didn't look convinced. He took her hand and used it to press a button. She took this as an invitation to crawl into his lap and he sighed in a resigned fashion and shifted her into a more comfortable position. She leaned back into his chest happily and watched him continue to press the buttons.

“It's so nice when the children get along,” Sarah said.

John covered his mouth with his hand to muffle his laughter, and she put her face in his shoulder to muffle hers.

Sherlock noticed them anyway and shot a scowl in their direction. Abby, upset the owl had stopped talking, reached out and pressed a button on its stomach.

“Yay!” she said, when it sang a little song about vowels.

Sherlock smiled in triumph, though he quickly hid it, resuming his normal expression of boredom. John sneaked his mobile out of his pocket and manage to take a photo before Sherlock could object.

“That'll do for Mrs H,” John said, admiring the photo with Sarah. He pocketed his mobile again and leaned against the door jamb, pulling her up to him. He gave her a squeeze and a kiss to her nose. “This is much better way to do Christmas. Let's do this every year.”

“Agreed,” Sarah said. “Just immediate family. You, me and the kids.”
aelfgyfu_mead: John Watsonaelfgyfu_mead on January 4th, 2013 01:23 am (UTC)
Two minor things: 1) "disorientated" really should be "disoriented"; I know some people spell it the longer way (but they're wrong). 2) Abigael? Not Abigail?

Now that that's out of the way, I can SQUEE! I very much liked Sarah and would be happy to see her return to John's life. Sherlock did seem to tolerate her, more or less. I would be stunned, too, if I woke up to find Sherlock in my house; I feel for her!

I laughed out loud about the high chair. I also smiled at Abby asleep with her butt in the air. Small Child did that as a baby; she could sleep in the most improbable poses, where we'd simply topple over. Of course she likes Sherlock: like cats, small children are attracted to people who aren't fond of them.

Now I want to read about how John came down with the plague, and more about Sarah and Abby!

(I did get your latest chapters; I hope to get them back to you tomorrow or Saturday!)
The Writer They Call Tay: SHERLOCK: Mrs Hudson hugglesawanderingbard on January 4th, 2013 01:47 am (UTC)
My impression is that 'disorientated' is what they use in Britain. I don't particularly like it either, but that's what they say. :P And Abigael, because I wanted a slightly different spelling. My synethesia makes a big difference on the feeling of names depending on how they look. Abigael suited this Abby better than Abigail. I'm weird, I know. :D

I'm glad you enjoyed it! I hesitated in creating another child 'verse, but... then I did. It's a bad habit. I do have other stories in mind. I don't know if that's a good thing or not!

Okay, cool! No rush at all.

Thanks for commenting!
aelfgyfu_mead: Watson plotaelfgyfu_mead on January 4th, 2013 01:57 am (UTC)
Gah! I just looked up "disorientate" in the Oxford English Dictionary, and you're right! It's apparently perfectly acceptable British English. But it drives me nuts! Now what do I do? (And why did I never look it up before? Because I was convinced I was right, I suppose.)

I'm not big on kidfic, but I think that's mostly because I don't like seeing the characters I enjoy turned into kids—or kids acting like they aren't kids because they're too busy acting like their parents (as adults). Abby acts like a real toddler. The box is more fun than the silly thing inside (especially if the contents cost much), and it's always better to put someone else's stuff in a box than your own (or in a wastebasket, but that's another story—and we didn't catch to then Small Toddler's tricks until at least one trash day had passed). And who needs clothes?
The Writer They Call Tay: DH: Coming Alongawanderingbard on January 4th, 2013 04:14 am (UTC)
I had literally never heard disorientated until I read it on a Britpicking comm and then I started hearing it all over British media, like it was taunting me. I don't understand the need for it at all. Why make a word longer than you need to? But I comply, because I respect a country's right to do what it wants Even if it's wrong...

Thank you! I really enjoy writing children because I like thinking about those traits that would filter down, not necessarily because of genes, but because the environment a child grew up in. Carbon copies aren't fun, but I do like it when you can see what they've inherited. I think how people interact with children is interesting to explore, as well. Anyway. I'm glad you enjoyed it!
The other Weird Alaeron_lanart on January 4th, 2013 09:50 pm (UTC)
Disorientated is the opposite of orientated, so why should it be spelt differently than its root word?

Yes, I'm a Brit. I'm also a nurse and I see both disoriented and disorientated in use at work, though mostly the latter as the shorter version tends to be used by non-British-born people.

I'm kind of pleased that awanderingbard takes the time to use our little Britishisms, as seeing Americanisms in a Sherlock fic strikes me as a bit odd at the least and sometimes will bounce me right out depending on what it is.
The Writer They Call Tay: DH: Random Happenstanceawanderingbard on January 4th, 2013 10:11 pm (UTC)
We would use oriented instead of orientated as well, actually. So both opposites are appropriate for the words they are the opposite of. Everyone wins!

Thanks! I do try my best use the right words, though I know I miss a bunch of things. I'm lucky in my Canadianness as it's not always such a foreign language. We have both British and American influences in our dialect. But all th differences are really interesting to me and I love learning about them.
aelfgyfu_meadaelfgyfu_mead on January 4th, 2013 10:51 pm (UTC)
But I don't use "orientated" either; I use "orient" and consider that the root, and the "-ate" an excrescence! If it's an excrescence, however, it's clearly got a long history, as the Oxford English Dictionary shows, so I must learn to live with both verbs.

In my own writing, I find it very hard to use British English consistently, despite actually having done some academic study of it. There are always more things to find, and things I forget despite knowing them ("pants" and "cot" have tripped me up even though I know the British meanings and what words I should use for a British setting). I admire Americans like awanderingbard who can write stories with British characters without accumulating a list of corrections in the comments. (I've had Brit pickers myself and still gotten a list because my kind beta readers can't catch all my mistakes.)

I need some kind of OED icon. . . .
The other Weird Alaeron_lanart on January 5th, 2013 12:00 am (UTC)
To me Orienting yourself would be adopting a far-eastern manner. *shrugs*

As has been said "Britain and American are two nations divided by a common language".

The Writer They Call Tay: DH: Random Happenstanceawanderingbard on January 5th, 2013 12:11 am (UTC)
Hehe! The only time I think I would add the 'ate' on is for 'orientation', i.e orienting oneself to a new location. Or disorientation, the state of not knowing what the hell is happening. I'm wondering if somewhere a long the way there was a back formation from that on either side of the pond. Like liaise from liaison.
The Writer They Call Tay: Buzzcocks: Welsh accents are hardawanderingbard on January 5th, 2013 12:03 am (UTC)
*ahem* Canadians like awanderingbard. :-P I'm a Canuck. And thanks for the compliment!

The problem is, once you delve into trying to sound like a Brit, it's hard to stop. I use 'dodgy' and 'stroppy' in everyday conversations now and I found myself going through an inventory of things I had for a project and mentally saying 'all right, I have a cuddly toy and some boiled sweets'. It's like learning a new language. It's hard to separate it in my mind.
aelfgyfu_mead: Due Southaelfgyfu_mead on January 5th, 2013 12:13 am (UTC)
Sorry! I should have remembered that you're a Canadian! Look, I have at least one Canadian in my icon! (I'm not sure about the dog.) ;-)

I've been having trouble with "pants"; I wrote a couple of long Primeval fics that required multiple references to clothing, and I had to avoid "pants" except when I really meant underpants. Making things worse, I've now been reading Sherlock fic since the first series aired in the States. Now nothing sounds right to me when I'm talking! "Pants" sounds like underwear, but "trousers" doesn't sound normal coming out of my mouth, and Small Child has criticized me for it. I've tried "slacks" because my mother tends to use the word for women's . . . legwear? . . . but no one else seems to use that. So I can't talk about what I'm wearing on my legs unless it's a skirt or jeans.
The Writer They Call Tay: Dresden: Harry confusedawanderingbard on January 5th, 2013 12:24 am (UTC)
Yes, the dog is also Canadian! *scritches Dief*

Slacks are a specific type of pant to me. Sort of casual business pants. Whereas trousers sound like what men have as part of their suits. And pants sounds like whatever the heck you have on your legs. The Brits do sometimes use 'underwear' I've noticed, but never pants for trousers.

My brother had a friend who went to live in England for a while, and after he got home, he giggled anytime anyone said 'pants'. :D

I think pants is one of the worst words in terms of the American/British divide. If you use it wrong, it becomes preposterous to a Brit. That and suspenders. You don't want to mix them up either.
donutsweeperdonutsweeper on January 4th, 2013 01:54 am (UTC)
You, me and the kids.

*snickers* Awww, this was a million kinds of adorables! Kidfic for all fandoms all the time!!!
The Writer They Call Tay: SHERLOCK: Mrs Hudson hugglesawanderingbard on January 4th, 2013 04:15 am (UTC)
Aww! Thanks, babe! I'm glad you enjoyed it.

All of you lot on my flist are enablers! You're not supposed to be encouraging my addiction. :-p
formerly lifeinsomniac: SherlockChaseScenejoonscribble on January 4th, 2013 04:25 am (UTC)
This fic warmed my heart so much! The perfect first read of 2013!

I was highlighting all the bits I liked to quote but then I found I was basically quoting the entire thing. But a particular fave was Abby's enthusiasm for the box rather than the actual gift and John's comment about the manners book. It's amazing how the banter between John and Sherlock is so recognizable but yes, Sherlock has evolved a bit in the social department. A bit.

Lovely story as usual!!
The Writer They Call Tay: SHERLOCK: Sherlock cameoawanderingbard on January 4th, 2013 04:42 am (UTC)
Yay! I love getting Scribbler comments! :-D

I'm glad you enjoyed it. I waffled back and forth on whether I needed another child 'verse, but then the story was written and I decided to roll with it.

I'm glad Sherlock seemed in character still. I was afraid of making him too cuddly, but I do think a few years down the road he will have evolved a little through developing relationships and knowing when he's gone too far. Even Series Two Sherlock was a bit better than Series One Sherlock. S1 Sherlock wouldn't have apologized to Molly at the Christmas party, for example. Or stopped to make sure Henry Knight saw that the hound was just a normal dog, instead of barrelling on in his excitement.


Anyway, it's nice to have you on my blog again, miss! Thanks for commenting!
The other Weird Al: minisherlock - blogger johnaeron_lanart on January 4th, 2013 10:41 pm (UTC)
This is lovely - I'm not a kidfic fan in general, but I like this, everyone is themselves and I love Sherlock's reaction to Abby.

Oh and this Just immediate family. You, me and the kids. Perfect. :)
The Writer They Call Tay: SHERLOCK: Mrs Hudson hugglesawanderingbard on January 6th, 2013 02:18 pm (UTC)
Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed it. I enjoy writing kid!fic a lot and I sometimes let it run away from me. I'm pleased you think everyone remained in character, however. I was trying not to make Sherlock too cuddly. :-)

Thanks for ocmmenting!
shadowfireflame: Sherlockshadowfireflame on January 5th, 2013 02:37 am (UTC)
I didn’t know you liked writing kids into fanfic!!! I’m a huge fan of kidfics, so yay, a treat for me. And this was awesome.

Abby ignored him, determined to get to Sherlock, who was sitting as still as a statue, like she was a wild creature whose attention he was trying not to attract.

Gah, why is it I find Sherlock even more adorable than Abby in this scene?! (Though her “Oh no!” and taking the box but not the toy were soooo cute.) But Sherlock claiming John’s family as his own and then hastily backtracking?! Awww, I just want to cuddle him.

Really sweet scene. Perfect for the holidays.
The Writer They Call Tay: SHERLOCK: Watson's cute noseawanderingbard on January 6th, 2013 05:03 pm (UTC)
I do! I don't know if you're familliar with The Dresden Files tv series. It was on about five years ago and was sadly short-lived. It was what first got me into fanfic writing, though, and I have an AU 'verse for it where I've given the main character an OC wife and kids. It sort of spiraled into something far bigger than I intended, but I really enjoy writing it. I was a bit hesitant to do something too similar, but I do love writing kids, so... ta-da!

I'm glad you enjoyed it at any rate!

Gah, why is it I find Sherlock even more adorable than Abby in this scene?! (Though her “Oh no!” and taking the box but not the toy were soooo cute.) But Sherlock claiming John’s family as his own and then hastily backtracking?! Awww, I just want to cuddle him.

Thank you! I'm pleased that worked for you. Sherlock + Watson!offspring was really what I wanted to explore. I just think he would be too cute trying to deal with a kid that he couldn't treat like everyone else without upsetting John. I also liked trying to decide what sort of dad John would be, but I really liked the idea of Sherlock joining the Watson clan as an honourary member. I'm hoping the new series will have him continue to grow, socially. I want to think that what he did for John et al. last series means that he's growing up in the social skills department. :-D

Thanks for commenting!
aelfgyfu_mead: Sherlock and Johnaelfgyfu_mead on March 7th, 2013 02:17 am (UTC)
I just had to reread this to remember everyone properly for the next story. I enjoyed it just as much this time.

The Writer They Call Tay: MISC: Adam Hillsawanderingbard on March 7th, 2013 02:21 am (UTC)
Aww, thanks! I'm glad it holds up. :-)