(tumblr promopt) anonymous asked: Imagine Sherlock Holmes composing a lullaby for Baby Watson.^_^

"Sherlock, what are you doing?"

"Composing, Mycroft, isn't it obvious?"

"Hmm, I suppose, but it it isn't really your area, is it, such a sentimental ditty?"

"It's for a baby, Mycroft, I believe sentiment is an unavoidable component."

"Children are horrid, smelly little larvae, brother dear, until they reach the age of reason…and even then they….urk!"

Mycroft stopped speaking, not because he had nothing further to say, but because his younger brother had calmly reached down and thrown a pillow at his face. Mycroft batted the offending item away and shot Sherlock a disdainful look. "Fine, I'm sure your goddaughter will be brilliant once she learns to do more than take in sustenance and poop herself."

Sherlock's smile was far softer than normal as he picked up his violin and bow and began playing again. "Yes, she will, Mycroft; if you managed it, then I'm sure Isabelle will have no problems."

Then he lost himself in the tune he was composing, utterly ignoring his brother's sputtered protests.