A/N: This was my prompt fill for the following:

Sherlock and Molly are baby sitting the little Watson and find themselves playing dress-up. Sherlock gets distracted when Molly becomes a pirate!

I don't think I wrote it as flirty as the prompt had intended it to be, but well, I majorly fluffy-fied it. Matchmaker Watson is my favourite type of little Watson. :) Hope you'll enjoy it! x

Shields

If Sherlock thought that the time at the Bart's rooftop was the only time Molly Hooper had saved him, he was wrong. In fact, she had saved him from what he (dramatically) deemed a fate worse than death. Due to a severe relapse that resulted in Harry Watson being hospitalised, John and Mary had to rush out of London, leaving their five and a half year old daughter, Sophie Watson, in the safest hands they knew. Granted, Sherlock was not the most typical of babysitters, but they knew without a shadow of a doubt that she would be safe. Sherlock never minded minding the little girl. It was not as if he had not had to watch her before. What's more, she was somewhat special to him. After all, hehad been the first one to deduce her very existence.

Everything was going smoothly until they were walking back from the shops one evening, with little Sophie skipping alongside her godfather. Sherlock was suddenly stopped by the tiniest tug from her little hand that was placed firmly in his.

"What's the matter?" he asked, stopping in his tracks.
"Look!" she said, pointing animatedly at a colourful poster at a bus stop.
"What about it?" Sherlock asked, warily.
"I want to watch it, Uncle Sherlock, please?" the little girl asked, turning to her godfather. "I like Lego very much."

This was probably the worse thing that could happen. Sherlock would rather have gone to every showing of Les Mis with his parents than to watch a silly little animated movie about (of all things) Lego, with hordes of noisy people and their children. At least Sophie would sit quietly and enjoy the movie, Sherlock was sure of his angel of a goddaughter. The children of other people, on the other hand, he was not so ready to tolerate. Sherlock had promised Sophie he would think about it and find a way to let her watch it.

The next day, he left the little girl with Mrs Hudson for a bit while he popped over to Bart's to check up on some samples he had sent for testing. As usual, he stopped by to see what Molly was up to and began grumbling to her about having to take Sophie to see this Lego movie and not wanting to disappoint her but not wanting to suffer an aneurysm from being amongst other moviegoers. Molly laughed at his little tirade and patted him gently on the hand.

"It's okay…" she said.
"No, it isn't okay." interrupted the detective.
"Sherlock, it's okay," Molly repeated, resting her hand on his, "I'll take her."
"You will?" he asked, turning to look at her.
"I love Sophie as much as you do," she said with a smile, "I also happen to love the movies as much as you hate them. So it's logical, really."
"Molly Hooper, I could almost kiss you," he remarked, genuinely grateful.
"Well, maybe you should, one day," Molly answered with a smirk and left the lab.

Sherlock sat in his living room, casually reading the papers. While he enjoyed the silence after having had to mind a child these past few days, he already missed the chaotic pitter-patter of her feet and the sudden moments where Sophie would fling herself onto his lap for a cuddle and end up falling asleep.

"Uncle Sherlock!" came the thrilled voice of Sophie who trundled up the stairs.

Sherlock threw his newspapers down and got up to meet his beloved goddaughter. With a bright smile on his face, he swept her into his arms and kissed her on both cheeks as she wrapped her little arms tightly around him.

"Hello, we're back. Have you had any lunch?" Molly asked, emerging from the stairs.
"I vaguely remember a breakfast scone, but it hardly matters," he answered, "I'm never hungry."
"I bought you a sandwich anyway," Molly said with a smirk.

The little girl was put back down when she ran to Molly and hugged her legs.

"Are we going to play now, Aunty Molly? You promised!" the little girl asked, looking up sweetly at Molly.
"Well, we've got to make some costumes first, haven't we?" Molly said, beaming at Sophie.
"Do the voice, Aunty Molly! The funny one from the movie! Show Uncle Sherlock!"
"Later, Sophie, later." replied Molly with a laugh, "Let's get our costumes ready first, yes?"

As Sophie raced off to her playroom, which was John's old room, at 221B, Sherlock walked up to Molly, hands in his robe pocket.

"Thank you for taking her," he said.
"You're welcome."
"Was it any good?"
"Fantastic. I laughed all the way and cried a little at the end." Molly answered, settling herself onto the sofa.
"Ah. Well, I'm glad you had a good time as well."
"So am I." Molly said with a smile.

Suddenly, they heard the fast footsteps of Sophie as she raced back into the hall, her hands full of odd pieces of cloth and clothes and dumped them onto Molly's lap.

"Can we play now, Aunty Molly?" Sophie asked, her eyes gleaming with excitement, "I found our costumes!"
"Perfect." Molly said, sifting through the piles of fabric, "Which one are you going to be?"
"The Spaceman! I want to be the Spaceman!" Sophie exclaimed.

Molly proceeded to wrap and tie anything that was blue around Sophie, to make her just like the Spaceman character in the movie who was decked out in that colour. She even managed to fashion a faux blue helmet by wrapping a pair of long blue socks around Sophie's face. It was most comical, but the girl was delighted. By this time, Sherlock had resumed his reading and would only occasionally look up at the girls who were having the loveliest time playing dress-up.

"Your turn now, Aunty Molly," said Sophie, "Who will you be?"
"I don't know, Sophie." Molly said, "What do you think?"
"Be the pirate! You can do the pirate voice, so be the pirate!"
"You want me to be Metalbeard?" Molly asked with a laugh.

"Metalbeard?" Sherlock asked, looking up from his papers with a start.
"It's the name of some weird, mechanical pirate," Molly explained, "He lost his body, replaced 90% of himself with machine parts and is basically…a transformer…"
"Hmm, I see," Sherlock said, resuming his paper reading. "Metalbeard, indeed." he mumbled to himself.

Sophie had decided to fashion a large pirate hat for Molly using a large black cushion and a scarf. The little one was rather creative and soon, Molly had a large black pirate's hat, a skirt made of what Sophie called 'flags' and a pair of leg warmers over her jeans as 'pirate boots'.

"Okay do the voice now, Aunty Molly, you are the pirate now," Sophie commanded.
"All right," Molly said with a slightly embarrassed chuckled. She wished to heavens Sherlock had not been in the room but she had no choice.

To the little girl's delight, Molly did a spot-on impersonation of the movie pirate, with his typical pirate drawl and growls. She even uttered the phrase that Sophie loved most. It was a phrase uttered at a funny moment where the pirate had been the only one to successfully communicate with a computer, using voice commands.

"Do the part where he talks to the computer!" chuckled the little girl.
"Be ye disablin' of yon shield!" Molly enacted with perfect, comical accuracy.

The girls then burst into peals of giggles as Sophie flung herself onto Molly and cuddled her, laughing all the way. Sherlock could not help but peek from his newspaper and smiled at the sight before him. Nothing made him happier than seeing Sophie safe, sound and smiling. However, it perplexed him slightly to realise the joy it gave him to see Molly just as happy. It had never struck him before, but he truly loved Molly's company. He felt relaxed, comfortable, undisturbed and, to his disbelief, utterly happy.

"Sophie, I think it's time for your afternoon sleep," Sherlock said, putting his papers away.
"Oh. Really?" the girl asked sadly, clutching Molly tightly.
"Do you always have a nap in the day, Sophie?" Molly asked, looking down at the girl.
"Yes." she said quietly, remembering that it was wrong to lie.
"Come on, Sophie. I think Aunty Molly is tired too," Sherlock said, getting up from his armchair.
"But I want Aunty Molly." said Sophie, the little corners of her mouth turned down.
"It's time for your nap, Sophie. You can play with Aunty Molly another time…"
"Let me take her," Molly suggested, bringing a smile to the girl's face.
"All right," Sherlock said with a nod, returning to his armchair.

Sophie got up from Molly's lap and together, the two girls walked hand in hand to Sherlock's room, where Sophie slept.

It did not take long, for Sophie had fallen asleep in twenty minutes. Quietly, she tip-toed out of Sherlock's room, carefully shutting the door behind her. When she returned to the sitting room, she saw that Sherlock had set the dining table in the kitchen and had made tea. It seemed he had also eaten the sandwich she had gotten for him. He was quietly sitting at the head of the table when Molly approached the kitchen.

"Ah, there you are." he said, "Join me?"
"I'd love to," she said and sat herself beside him.

Sherlock automatically poured her a cup of tea, before pouring one for himself. The two drank their tea in silence. There was no sound to be heard save for the slight clinking of their teacups back onto their saucers.

"So, did you enjoy the sandwich?" asked Molly.
"It was all right, as sustenance goes." Sherlock replied with a smirk.
"I never see you eat, so I took a gamble." Molly remarked with a shrug.
"I'm still grateful," he said, turning to her, "Thank you for lunch, Molly."
"You're welcome." she replied with a soft smile.
"And thank you for making Sophie so happy," he said, leaning against his seat. "I can keep her safe, but I can't always make her happy. So I am genuinely grateful."
"Wasn't a problem," Molly said, "You can always call me. Anytime."
"I appreciate that." he said, with a gentle half smile.

The silence between the two resumed as Sherlock relaxed against his seat while Molly took more sips of her tea.

"Molly…" said Sherlock suddenly, breaking the silence.
"Hmm?" Molly replied, a little startled. She had just reached for a biscuit when he spoke.
"How…" he frowned as he thought of the words to say, "How…can I thank you?"

There was a little smirk that appeared on Molly's face when he asked the question.

"Well, I don't know if you remember your momentary expression of gratitude when we discussed this that day in the lab," Molly began.

With one eyebrow raised, Sherlock looked at Molly, trying to understand what she meant.

"Looks like you don't," she said with a laugh.
"No…I suppose…I don't," he answered, puzzled, "I should still like to thank you though."
"That's all right, Sherlock," Molly said, getting up, "Being with Sophie is reward enough as it is."
"I see…" he said, standing up as well.
"I'd better make a move then. She knows I won't be here when she's up. But I promised I'd come see her again." Molly said.
"Right. Well, thank you, Molly."
"You're welcome, Sherlock."

With a final wave and a lovely smile, Molly gathered her things and left the flat. Sherlock stood where he was, again, perplexed by the odd, hollow feeling in his chest when she walked away.

It was only at dinner, as Sophie ate while Sherlock supervised, that it all seemed to click in his head. It embarrassed him that it took a five-year old to help him make sense of things

"You look sad, Uncle Sherlock," Sophie said as she did her best to carefully spoon some mashed potato into her mouth.
"Mmm? Do I?" he said, distracted from his thoughts.
"Yes." the girl said. "Tell me?"
"Tell you what?"
"Why you're sad."
"I'm not sad."
"Yes, you are."
"Eat your dinner, Sophie."

Sophie obeyed and slowly scooped up more of the mash and ate another mouthful.

"It's okay, Uncle Sherlock." she said quietly.
"Hmm?"
"I'm sad too."
"You are?" he asked, alarmed.
"Yeah. We're sad about the same thing."
"What are you on about, Sophie?"
"When Aunty Molly went home, we both got sad." she said, swirling her spoon as she stared at her food.

Sherlock stared at the little girl, wide-eyed. He could not believe what she had just said. It was even harder to believe, however, that she was absolutely right.

"Why am I sad when Aunty Molly goes home, Sophie?" he asked the little girl.

Sophie put her spoon down and remembered to wipe her mouth with a napkin. She really was a bright little girl. Turning to face her godfather, Sophie fixed her eyes on his curious blue ones and smiled.

"Uncle Sherlock, you are very strange."
"Why is that?" he asked, amused.
"You have shields."
"Shields?"
"Yes, like in the movie." she explained, "They had shields to stop the bad people from touching the bad weapon."
"So I am like a bad weapon? That's why I have shields?" he asked.
"No," she answered, "You are not a bad weapon. And that's why you're strange."
"I don't understand."

The little girl sighed, got out of her seat and climbed onto Sherlock's lap. She put her hands around his neck so that she could lean in and whisper into his ear.

"You are using shields to stop a good thing," she whispered.
"What good thing?"
"Aunty Molly," the girl said.
"Aunty Molly?" Sherlock repeated.
"She is your good thing, Uncle Sherlock." the girl said softly, "Good things should not have shields to stop them."

Sherlock reached for Sophie to look her in the eyes. The girl stared at him, her lovely eyes wide and understanding. The detective studied her face as he processed her words. Eventually, his face softened into a smile. He kissed the girl on the cheek and carried her to the living room. He sat her down on the sofa before sitting himself down beside her. Turning to her, he took his mobile phone out and twiddled it between his fingers.

"Time to disable those shields eh, Sophie?" he remarked, smiling warmly at his god-daughter, the source of his epiphany.

The little girl nodded and smiled, clutching onto her godfather's arm as he called Molly, inviting her to watch a movie at Baker Street, and possibly a game of pirates and dress-up after.

END