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When John kissed Sherlock goodbye, he immediately missed him. He took the taxi to his job and couldn’t stop thinking about him the whole ride. He looked so perfect wrapped in his housecoat, holding Rosie, kissing his cheek and wishing him a good day at work. It was all so domestic. He looked at the clock, one minute passed, he looked again. Three minutes passed. Clinics are never slow, it’s that some days people seem perfectly healthy, and then others, the whole of London is trying to get themselves examined. Today was one of the days where he was going to see more paperwork than patients, save for the moms who insisted that there was something wrong with their kid, or the usual patient that searched their symptoms online and are convinced they’re dying. Other than that, there was hours of him thinking about Sherlock and Rosie, wondering what the two were doing. Teletubbies was probably over now, he knew how much Sherlock hated that show. He smiled just thinking about the man’s face.
He missed him so much.
Maybe he could call them right now, his boss wouldn’t care, and it wasn’t like there were patients lining up to see him today. Was Sherlock’s phone even on? Was Rosie snapping pictures on it again by accident? He made one of those his lockscreen when Sherlock wasn’t looking. The picture showed Rosie’s wide eyes from the flash, and Sherlock moving to take the phone away. He was adorable.
His phone was vibrating and it was just the person he wanted to call. He heard Rosie screaming in the background. Sherlock must have been holding her.
“John, when was the last time Rosie…went?”
John’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“Well, she’s a bit cranky right now and her diaper’s been lacking a bit of…solid matter….”
John’s eyes widened and he said, “Oh. She’s not shitting.”
He laughed at Sherlock’s exasperation. “You put it so eloquently John. Yes, Rosie hasn’t shat.”
“Um, there should be a bit of castor oil in the bathroom. Give her a bit and see if that works.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“Give her tummy a little massage, and feed her some mashed banana or something. But be patient, love, don’t need her exploding.”
“Yes, okay.” He sounded distracted, John heard some rustling and Sherlock trying to shush the baby. John pressed his phone to his ear with his shoulder as he resumed the paperwork. “She alright?”
“I think she’s having a bit of tummy pain. We’re in the bathroom now, I’ve just given her a sip of the oil. She didn’t eat much this morning.”
“Aw, poor thing.”
“Are you referring to me or the baby?” Sherlock deadpanned. John snorted. “Obviously the one who’s in pain, Sherlock.”
“I appreciate the sentiment then.” Sherlock laughed a bit and John heard some rustling.
“I think she wants to hear your voice. Let me just quiet her down for a second. Are you busy right now?”
“Never too busy for you, love.”
Sherlock didn’t respond, but John could hear him blush through the phone. He waited a bit before he heard Sherlock singing to the baby.
“You’re my honeybunch sugarplum, pumpy-umpy-umpkin, you’re my sweetie pie. You’re my cuppycake gumdrop snoogums boogums you’re…”
“The apple of my eye…” John finished. His cheeks were tinted red as he listened to Sherlock’s soft voice sooth the crying baby. Sherlock chuckled and kept singing, and John joined in with him, not caring how he looked to his boss or anyone that walked past his office. He knew this nursery song, and he missed the opportunity to sing with Sherlock last time.
In unison, the men sang, “And I love you so and I want you to know that I’ll always be right here, and I love to sing sweet songs to you because you are so dear…”
Rosie was silent now but he could hear her soft noises through the phone. John was sitting in his office grinning like an idiot. One day he’s just going to sing to Sherlock, with Sherlock, he didn’t know. He just wanted to hear the man sing again. Sherlock was talking to Rosie now, “Are we better now?”
John’s heart melted as he listened to the two, well, mainly Sherlock.
“I think she’s okay now, I’m sorry if I bothered you.”
“It’s fine, Sherlock. It’s all fine.”
John had a guess they were both smiling into the phone now. Sherlock coughed and said, “I’ll see you when you come back.”
“Mhm, sure will. Takeaway tonight? I was going to stop at the shops but Rosie’s not well…”
“Well the oil is not going to work for a few hours, and she seems calm now. I can try to get a bit of the shopping done if you would like. But still, order takeaway tonight.”
Another laugh. “Goodbye, John.”
“I love you, Sherlock.” It came out, but he’s been dying to say it again. Any chance he gets.
“I love you too, John.” He hung up and sank back in his chair.
“What a lucky, lucky man I am.” He sighed.
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