The baby in Sherlock's arms giggled and stuck a long finger into his mouth. The detective sighed

"John.." and gently pulled the digit out of the baby's grip. The baby in question squealed in annoyance and reached out for Sherlock's fingers again. Unwilling to end up with a screaming, crying baby flatmate, rather than the currently happy, baby flatmate, he relented and gave John his hand. Sherlock's flatmate grabbed the proffered fingers and stared at them, cooing. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"What am I going to do with you, John? A day ago you were fascinated with my deductions, now you are fascinated with my fingers." The baby just gurgled back at him, giggling again when Sherlock placed his hand on his chest to stabilise him while he carefully collapsed onto the flat's sofa.

Sherlock smiled at the bundle in his arms. "You're not too bad really."

Two hours later Mrs Hudson showed Detective Inspective Lastrade up the stairs of 221B.

"I don't know what you'll find up there Inspector. I just hope that Sherlock hasn't got it into his head to experiment on the baby. He refuses to let me look after him."

"They'll be alright, Mrs Hudson." Lastrade said, opening the door to the flat. After gasping at the site he immediately drew out his camera phone as silently as possible, taking blackmail photos. There sitting on the sofa was Sherlock Holmes, fast asleep with his head flopped forward, hand gently resting on the chest of the sleeping baby John Watson cradled in his other arm.

"Awww," said Mrs Hudson, smiling.