Chapter Eight

A few days had past, and Sherlock still hadn't gotten back to Lydia yet.  I kept reminding him, but he only put it off longer.  I felt sorry for that poor girl.

Scottie learned how to roll around on his back and stomach, but he still couldn't crawl.  He had grown a blonde fluff on top of his head, and it reminded me of Mary.  Sherlock liked to stroke it.

I also found Sherlock hiding under his bed, again.  This gave me uneasy feelings, since I now knew what he did under there, and I yearned to read what he had wrote.  I felt a pang of disappointment in myself because I was supposed to be his friend.  I knew I shouldn't snoop, and I started wondering if it was worth it.

I had gone to work again, since I felt like I could trust Mrs. Hudson and Sherlock to look after my son.  I warned Mrs. Hudson that Sherlock may be stingy and want the baby to himself, and if he did, to remind him I had put her in charge. Ignore the puppy eyes.

It was odd not going to work with Mary because she was usually just a door away.  She would stick her head in my office and hand off my patients.  I could see her warm smile, and we could see each other all day.  However, Mary was gone.  I shook my head and got to work.

I saw my usual patients and a few new ones.  I dealt with colds, sprains, strains, flu shots, accidental mishaps.  It was a very usual, normal day, except for Mary.  I was waiting for more patients when my phone beeped.

From: SherlockI have a surprise for you when you come home.SH

I yawned.  A normal surprise or a Sherlock surprise?

The clock chimed, telling me that it was time to end my shift.  I slowly got to my feet, picked up the things I needed to bring home, and left the room.  The busy London streets were crowded with people moving in every direction.  I called a cab to take me to Baker Street.

I walked, my dark blue scarf flapping in the wind, up to the door and opened it.  I stepped my way up the stairs, bracing myself for whatever my surprise might be.  I hoped it wasn't another showdown of an American gunman against Sherlock's wits.  Sherlock did eventually throw him out the window multiple times.  I never understood that day.  I also hoped Scottie was okay.  My curiosity grew as I got closer and closer to the top of the staircase. I heard giggling.

My head poked cautiously from the wall, and I saw Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson both laughing their heads off.  I raised my eyebrows; I didn't quite understand.

Then, I heard the high-pitched yowl from a baby's lips: "Muh-duh!"  Sherlock chuckled again, and Mrs. Hudson clasped her hand on her stomach.

I then saw scoot out from behind Sherlock and into my eyesight: Scottie.  Scottie with a little purple dress shirt, a small black overcoat, (the exact same as Sherlock's about twenty sizes smaller, I never found out how he did it) and, of course, a baby deerstalker. 

Scottie laughed as he tightly held a magnifier in his tiny hand.  He brought his enormous blue eyes to meet mine.  "Da!" He said. 

I looked from him to Sherlock.  "What the hell did you do?" I wasn't mad; I said these words with extreme calmness.  It was cute, I had to admit.  But my son dressed up like my consulting detective friend?

"Muh-duh!" Scottie yelled happily, again.  Sherlock gave me a face that clearly stated, "I was bored and I wanted to play dress-up."

I scratched my head and crouched down to meet Scottie at his level.  "Why do you keep screaming 'murder'?" I asked Sherlock more than Scottie.

"I honestly have no idea," Sherlock said, laughing again.  "He picked it up one day, and it's all he says!"

"I think it's special, having a baby who can look up to Sherlock," Mrs. Hudson piped up.  "He might be a detective, too.  Then there'll be two consulting detectives."

I smiled.  "Does he look up to me? It seems as if Sherlock has taken over 'Daddy Role-Model'."

Sherlock looked back at me.  "He'll do what he wants once he gets big enough," he said.  Why did Sherlock know so much about parenting?

"I think he'll find you two most interesting," Mrs. Hudson said. "Kids at school'll be jealous."

"What if he's bullied?" I asked, now realizing how his life might look to other children.

Sherlock patted Scottie on the head and repositioned his hat.  "Oh, I'll take care of that."

Mrs. Hudson rubbed my back.  "You mustn't worry about that now, John.  He's only five months old."

Sherlock turned to her.  "I saw him crawling earlier today.  He's growing."

"He crawled?" Oh, the many things I missed while I was at work!

Sherlock nodded.  "He also called me dad.  Well, 'Da!'."

I blinked.  "He called me that, too.  He doesn't know which one's his real dad, though, does he?"

Sherlock shrugged.  Scottie let out another "Muh-duh!" and dropped his magnifier.  He started to look sad, but Sherlock picked it back up and gave it to him.  Scottie wore a bright smile on his face as he took it from his almost-dad.

I picked him up and set him in my lap.  "Da!" he squealed.  I smiled and straightened his coat.  "He won't wear this in public, though, right?"

"God, no," Sherlock answered.  He looked up at Scottie, who was dressed exactly like him.  I wondered what Sherlock was thinking at that exact moment.

Mrs. Hudson got to her feet and left the room.  I heard her footsteps go down the stairs as I took the mini coat off of my kid.  "You must be hot in that," I said to him.  "I'm burning up, and I haven't even got a jumper on!"

Sherlock got to his feet, also.  "John?" He asked.

I turned my head in his direction.  "Yeah?"

"I scheduled to meet with Lydia.  We see her tomorrow night."

I nodded.  I took off Scottie's earhat, and took him in for a nap before he could cry out another 'muh-duh!' in my ear.