This is for Mrs. Pencil. Just because. :-)

I don't own them. *sigh*

It was supposed to be John, not Sherlock, babysitting Molly's eighteen month old offspring. He was the one who offered to entertain, change and feed Sam whilst the detective hid at Bart's until the agreed upon three hours was up. Unfortunately, a call from Harry, right after Molly left, had John fixing a stern look on his face and mouthing the words 'watch him' before leaving the room for privacy.

Sherlock cursed his need for breakfast that morning. Normally, he would have left half an hour before Molly had arrived. Looking down, he scowled as the plane in the boy's mouth became coated with drool. It took no time for Sam to realize his new playmate had disappeared and he begin to wail in sorrow at the one left behind. Panicking, Sherlock attempted to amuse his charge by grabbing the slippery toy and making noises as he had seen John do earlier. The loss of his plane only made the cries increase and Sherlock shoved it back into chubby hands before grabbing the bag Molly had left behind. She had assured John everything he needed was inside.

Two more toys were found, one a plush bear and the other a talking caterpillar, but neither was helpful. Sharp eyes fixed upon the five disposable nappies. Sherlock thought a moment before he leaned close to give the crying Sam a sniff and then recoiled in disgust at the smell that filled his nostrils. A glance back towards the bedroom door showed it shut tightly and Sherlock knew from experience it was not a good idea to interrupt a Watson sibling conversation. He bravely took a nappy in hand, grabbed hold of the baby wipes also available and squared his shoulders.

Ten minutes later, Sam was chattering happy. Sherlock was busy tossing the dirty nappy, four defective nappies and the almost thirty baby wipes he had been forced to use into the rubbish bin. The detective frowned at the large wet spot on the front of his shirt. During nappy number three, Sam had decided to surprise Sherlock by urinating on the genius' clothing. He desperately wanted to remove the soiled shirt but was unsure if he could leave the young boy alone.

Thankfully, all was resolved when John came back into the room muttering. Not wasting a moment, Sherlock darted past his partner, threw out the words, "He's yours now!" and raced into the bathroom. A quick shower helped him feel human again. After getting dressed, for a second time that day, Sherlock grabbed his coat and flew out the flat door without a word.

Halfway down the stairs he paused briefly and then went back up long enough to open the door halfway and yell out, "He's out of nappies by the way!"

Hearing John's outraged, "What? How?" Sherlock closed the door again, made it to the bottom step in record time and was soon slamming the front door to 221B. Moments later he was in a cab and heading to Bart's.

Later he would deny all accusations of ignoring the texts John had sent him whilst gone, even if he had clearly heard each of the twenty-one alerts.