Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or this universe.

C:

"John!" Sherlock burst through the door of his flat, dragging something behind him. "John, someone was skulking around outside!" Sherlock stepped into the living room, an unhinged, victorious smile on his face. His normally immaculate suit was crumpled and torn. In his right hand he gripped a jacket, with the owner still inside, alive for once. Alive and shaking.

"Sherlock!" Rosie dropped a pickle jar in the kitchen, the glass shattering on the hard ceramic floor. "That's Corey!" She ran over and hugged the scrawny boy.

"Corey?" Sherlock scrunched his eyebrows together.

"My boyfriend." Rosie wrenched the jacket from Sherlock's fist. The boy whimpered and collapsed onto the ground, his already pale skin taken on a deathly pallor.

"You okay?" She asked.

"I was supposed to be on vocal rest." He whimpered.

"Yes, but then you screamed, so say goodbye to a lead role." Sherlock scoffed. Rosie made an indignant sound.

"Who's screaming?" John stepped into the living room, followed by Mrs Hudson.

"Rosie's boyfriend." Sherlock brushed a leaf stuck to his jacket onto the ground.

"Boyfriend, eh?" John circled the dark-haired boy, picking a leaf out of his hair. "Does he live in a tree?"

"Dad! Stop!" Rosie whined. He looked her dead in the eyes.

"Never." He said solemnly.

Corey extended a hand to John.

"Hi, Mr. Watson, my name's Corey." His voice quivered, then broke.

"At least this one has manners." Sherlock spat.

"Sod off, Sherlock! Like you'd know about manners." John called. Sherlock skulked off towards his violin, casting dirty looks at John.

"Anyways, Corey, it is Corey isn't it?" Corey nodded. "Tell me why I should let you date my daughter." Corey tapped his foot on the ground, murmuring what John imagined was a practiced speech. Satisfied, Corey raised his head and looked John in the eyes.

"Well, Mr. Watson, I'd really appreciate it if you let me date your daughter, or at least interact with her without being dragged from the streets." Corey cast a quick glance at Sherlock. "I really like your daughter. She is incredible, amazing, funny and the coolest person I've ever met. She gets me in a way no one ever has. She's the only one who will obsess with me over Hamilton or Beetlejuice for an hour, and then listen to the soundtrack. So in short, Rosie makes me happier than I've been in a long time, and I feel like I can't exist without her." Corey dipped down a bit, as if he was about to bow, before straightening up and blushing in realization of his surroundings. He turned to Rosie

"Sorry. That got a bit out of hand."

"Was that all on the spot?" Rosie asked, incredulous. Corey nodded, then whispered to her, "I won a gold medal in an improv competition last year."

"Well, Dad?" Rosie asked. John sighed, then nodded, sinking down into his chair. Rosie smiled and grabbed Corey, jumping up and down.

"We did it! You're the first not to get scared away!" Corey's face broke into a grin and he reciprocated Rosie's hug.

"God, I was terrified. That was like opening night all over again." He laughed, but stopped suddenly, his breath hitching."Is that the time?"

"Yeah, I think so, why?" Rosie furrowed her eyebrows.

"Jesus Christ! I have rehearsal!" He ran a panicked hand through his hair. "I'm so sorry. I totally ruined the moment, please don't hurt me." He glanced at Sherlock, who smirked.

Corey gave Rosie a quick kiss on the cheek, at which John rose from his chair.

"I'm sorry! I'll make it up to you!" He turned and dashed out of the room, his footsteps echoing down the hall.

The door slammed downstairs, and the flat was silent, save for the sound of Sherlock plucking at his violin's strings.

"Well, now that we've sorted that out, is anyone going to clean up this mess?" Mrs. Hudson gestured to the shattered pickle jar on the kitchen floor.