A/N: This is a gift for P & H, lilsherlockian1975's boys, who had to get their shots today.

"Do we hafta, Mum? Do we really hafta?" "Muuummm, why do we have to get bootsers? We don't like bootsers!"

"It's 'boosters', Edmund, and yes, Scarlett, you absolutely 'hafta' get your jabs today. Sorry, it's just one of those things," Molly Hooper-Holmes explained to her five-year-old twins. They gave her identical scowls, which immediately morphed into identical puppy-dog eyes complete with trembling lower lips. "No use pulling those faces on me," she said cheerfully as she began helping them into their jackets and boots. "You know that only works on Daddy, and unfortunately for you, he's out on a case with Uncle John and Aunt Mary. Which," she added before they could find the breath to interrupt her, "is why we're stopping back at Baker Street; Nana Hudson is watching Izzy.

The twins immediately perked up; Isabelle Watson was their favorite person in the world, excepting their own father and each other. She was seven and therefore the world's most foremost expert on everything in their minds. (Again, excepting their father but not necessarily each other.) "Why're we taking Izzy if Nana Watson is watching her?" Scarlett asked curiously, buttoning up her jacket while Molly helped Edmund with his.

"Because she needs her jabs as well, so I agreed to take her," Molly explained. "Afterward you can cry on one another's shoulders if you'd like, all the way to Uncle Mycroft's house, where we'll be having cake and ice cream to help console you."

They perked up even more at that promised treat, as well as at the thought that they wouldn't be alone in their misery. Besides, if Izzy had to have her boosters, well, then it probably wouldn't be nearly as bad as they thought it would be.

Even though she knew they'd soon enough be snuffling and whining again as Dr. Alex entered the cubicle at the clinic, but she'd deal with that when it happened. After all, getting jabs wasn't anyone's idea of fun, not even a parent or a paediatrician (no matter what the children might believe!), and she would be there to hug and kiss them and reassure them that no, they wouldn't be sore forever. Cake and ice cream with their favorite (OK, only, but he really was very much their favorite!) uncle would go a long way to easing their discomfort.

Two hours later, the deed was done. Isabelle had done her very best to be a Grown Up but even she'd had to look away when the doctor gave her her booster shot. Now they were in the back of the car, sniffling and comparing bandages (Izzy's had a smiley-faced cat, Scarlett and Edmund both had bright green strips with some sort of cartoonish monster face for decoration), and it was only a few minutes' drive to Uncle Mycroft's Belgravian mansion.

An extra surprise was waiting for them when they got inside: Sherlock, John and Mary had wrapped up the case and were waiting for them. Scarlett and Edmund immediately launched themselves at their father, wailing loudly at the 'abuse' they'd suffered at Mummy's hands, while Isabelle maintained a decorous pace...but still went right to Mary for a hug. Sherlock's face was a study; he never could stand to see the children unhappy, and by the guilty look he shot Molly as she shut the door behind them, the 'case' he'd dragged Mary and John out for could probably have waited another day. She shook her head in fond exasperation as she crossed over to where he was settled onto his haunches, a twin gathered close in either arm, and dropped a kiss on the top of his head to let him know he was forgiven. "Now," she said loudly, over the unhappy babbling of her children as they each tried to outdo the other in describing the horrors of the visit, "let's get some of that cake and ice cream, shall we?"

"Indeed, I'm afraid it's going to melt if we don't repair to the kitchen immediately," came a new voice from the direction of the sitting room.

"Uncle Mikey! Uncle Mikey!" The twins were immediately off and running, tears once again forgotten - and Daddy too, much to his disgruntlement. Sherlock never had become accustomed to how close his children were to his brother.

"Better not keep the treats waiting," Mary advised with a grin as Sherlock unfolded himself from the floor and tried not to look like he was pouting at his offspring's defection. "Wouldn't want to have to eat melted ice cream, would we?" She tousled Isabelle's blonde curls and followed after the twins, John right behind them.

Molly lingered for a moment, placing a hand on Sherlock's arm. "They were fine, honestly," she said softly, knowing he too needed some reassurance that the jabs hadn't been the end of the world. "They know it's to keep them healthy and safe - and so do you, so don't even try to protest that they don't need them!"

His mouth, which had opened to say something very much along those lines, snapped shut, and he merely sighed. Noisily. "Right," Molly said crisply, tiptoeing up to give him a proper peck on the lips. "Let's get to that cake and ice cream, shall we? I'm sure Mycroft won't be able to resist joining us," she added with a sly grin. "Not if the twins insist on feeding him as they did last time!"

Sherlock's eyes lit up, and he pulled his mobile from his pocket. "Yes," he said gleefully as he dropped one arm around Molly's shoulder. "I do need another set of photos to add to my collection!"

With a small laugh and shake of her head, Molly let him pull her into the sitting room. Life with this family was certainly never dull, even when it involved the most ordinary of tasks.

And she wouldn't have it any other way.