'"Flying Machines, these, uh, telephone contraptions, what sort of lunatic fantasy is that?"

Dr Watson and Mr Holmes were sat in their chairs across from each other back in 221B Baker Street with their pipes in hand. Mr Holmes had been telling his companion of this futuristic world he'd imagined when he'd been working on the Ricoletti case.

"It was simply my conjecture of what a future world might look like and how you, and I, and Miss Holmes, and Miss Watson might fit inside it. From a drop of water, a logician should be able to infer the possibility of and Atlantic or Niagara."

"Or a Reichenbach."

The two men look up at the new voice to find Miss Holmes bringing them their afternoon tea with a broad smile on her face. She set the tray down on the table between their two chairs and her husband thanked her graciously when she handed him a cup.

"Have you written up your account of the case, Dr Watson?" she asked, handing the Doctor his own cup.

"Yes, I have, actually." He beamed. She returned the gesture.

"Oh, I look forward to reading it!"

"Mmm." Mr Holmes sounded unimpressed, "Modified to put it down as one of my rare failures, of course?"

"Of course." Dr Watson assured. Miss Holmes shook her head, muttering how ridiculous the two men were before announcing that she was going to visit with Mrs Hudson downstairs, leaving the men to their gentlemen's chat.

"'The Adventure of…The Invisible Army'?" Mr Holmes suggested after a chaste kiss from his wife and she'd disappeared down the steps. He received no approval from the Doctor and he leaned forward in his chair with bright eyes, "'The League of Furies'? 'The Monstrous Regiment'?"

"I rather thought, 'The Abominable Bride'."

Mr Holmes thinned his lips, sitting back in his chair with an air of settlement, "Trifle lurid."

"It'll sell. It's got proper murders in it, too."

"You are the expert."

"As for your own…Tale." Dr Watson hesitated, earning a look from his companion, "Are you sure, it's still just a 7% solution that you take? I think you may have increased the dosage."

"Perhaps I was being a little fanciful." Mr Holmes admitted, "But perhaps such things could come to pass. I any case, I know I would be very much at home in such a world."

Mr Holmes stood from his seat, crossing the room away from the sound of the Doctor's scoff, "Don't think I would be."

"I beg to differ. But then I've always known I was a man out of his time."

"Poppycock!"

Sherlock was brought out of his train of thought by Lottie's high-pitched squeak. He looked back at her and found her gawking at him with an open-mouthed smile on her face. He scowled in confusion, thinning his lips as if he was about to argue like a small child.'

"You don't really expect me to believe that."

The two of them were sat on the couch in the living room of 221B Baker St. with Lottie's stocking covered feet tucked warmly in Sherlock's lap. They had a day off for once; no cases, no plans, just the two of them. Since John had moved out Lottie had made his old room into her art studio and she'd spent most of her day there working. But she'd finally convinced Sherlock to tell her what had gone on in his mind palace that fateful day the East Wind brought her beloved detective back to her.

If only she knew what exactly the East Wind had planned.

"Hello!" A new voice from downstairs cut the couple's conversation short. John and Mary bounded up the stairs with baby Rosie in hand. Sherlock watched Lottie's face brighten at the sight, setting her unfinished tea on the table next to the sofa and reaching for her Goddaughter. Her movements made the ring on her finger glimmer whenever the sunlight coming in from the window hit it and Sherlock smiled at the way his fiancée held the baby, bouncing her up and down with the biggest of smiles. Baby Rosie loved her Auntie Lottie and every time she saw her, her little face just lit up with excitement and little happy gurgles escaped her lips.

"Do you mind to watch her for a few hours?" Mary asked Lottie, turning over the baby bag from her shoulder in knowing that Lottie never said no to taking care of Rosie.

"We would love to!" she took the bag from Mary and set it in John's old chair before stepping into the kitchen with Rosie, muttering something about a funny story from Uncle Sherlock.

"We'll be back in a few hours." John told Sherlock as his friend stood from the couch.

"Lottie's so good with Rosie." Mary smiled on at the redhead in the kitchen, bouncing the little one in her arms. She was so happy with the child and Sherlock watched the way her eyes lit up whenever she got a reaction from Rosie. Seeing his fiancée with the little one made his heart thump, his stomach flip, and his brain go fuzzy all at the same time, wavering him a bit. Chemically, he knew what was happening. The way his body was reacting to his significant other with a child told his body that she would be a good mother to their own children, should they have any.

But they hadn't talked about children yet. At all.

"Sherlock, did you hear me?" John brought him out of his thoughts and Sherlock realized he had a smile so big that his cheeks were sore. John and Mary were giving him a knowing look and his face deadpanned.

"Wasn't listening. What were you saying?" he said.

"Have you and Lottie talked about…" John sucked in a deep breath, fidgeting a bit at a conversation that should not have been awkward. But because it was Sherlock Holmes, it was an odd topic to discuss, "You know, having kids?"

Sherlock hesitated, "Oh, no. No kids."

"Are you sure?" Mary teased, pulling Sherlock's attention back to Lottie in the kitchen. A hint of a smirk appeared on his lips and he gave Mary a knowing look.

"We'll see."