Sherlock had not been standing by the upstairs window waiting for the cab. He happened to prefer the natural light on that side of his living room and if it gave him a vantage point by which to observe the front curb it was only a coincidence. Further coincidence was that he had finished his composition just as the black vehicle pulled up, not at all hurrying to put his violin on her stand, unstressing the bow and smoothing out his suit. He could hear Mrs. Hudson below already coming down the main hall to the door. She hadn't been waiting either.

"Oh, you!" Mrs. Hudson cheered, already standing on their stoop by the level of echo her voice carried. Sherlock took the stairs with cool hesitation, smirking slightly at the groans he could hear John making as he undoubtedly struggled with a full load.

"Yes, hello, Mrs. Hudson. You wouldn't mind, would you?"

"Mind? I've been waiting ages!"

Sherlock came around the corner of the stairs with absolutely no surprises waiting as Mrs. Hudson stood aside, arms filled with Analise and John struggling to get a few bags off the street and into the door with one arm still stuck uselessly in a sling. He frowned up at Sherlock, blowing out an already exhausted breath. "Could use a hand," he said, dropping a pink baby duffel at the bottom of the steps.

Sherlock eyed it with a raised brow "It would have perhaps been wiser to have just purchased a duplicate set of everything to leave here rather than cart the whole mess back and forth."

"Oh, no. Can't do that. That'd be sensible," John said, his cheeks red from exertion.

Sherlock could not help the smile as he took the last step at a hop and followed him out to the stuffed cab. There truly was a mountain of packed items inside from several more bags to a folded down pushchair. Sherlock handed to John the smaller items as he took up the heavier things himself. It only took a few trips between them to fill the entryway with a pink explosion of sundry stock. There certainly was a lot of pink.

John loitered on the pavement rather than joined the pile inside. Waiting, hesitating, not staying, hard to go. Sherlock nodded to the cab still idle on their curb. "Is he holding here for you?" he asked.

The doctor nodded, scratching at the back of his neck with his good hand where the strap of his sling cut across. "Yeah, I can't be long. Mary's in right now and I promised to be back before she was out." He took a deep breath with tired eyes looking up above their own heavy bags. "Little late to ask again but are you really sure about this?"

"Your wife is being irradiated and you have the full use of only one arm. You've a short list of options."

"Yeah, but we do have some," John assured him. He hadn't have a decent night's sleep in days by the look of him. Fatherhood, surely, but more than that as well.

Sherlock shook his head, dimpling his chin with an exaggerated frown. "Don't worry, I'm relatively sure Mrs. Hudson will be taking care of everything." She had certainly managed to already more or less disappear with the child in the time it took them to build the haphazard luggage barricade. He came down off the stoop, standing a few feet from John as they delayed upon the pavement.

John gave a worn smile, the older woman's enthusiasm certainly not much of a surprise. He licked his lips, a nervous habit. "Maybe. Just... You know, it wasn't all that long ago you didn't want to know about.. well, anything. Now you're babysitting. And it's... well, honestly it's everything I ever wanted. Which traditionally doesn't really mean the best for you. I just, ah... I guess I need to know... that it's okay. That you're not just forcing yourself to do this for me."

Sherlock cocked his chin just slightly, "Do I often make concessions against my will?" he asked, his tone nearly hypothetical.

"No, but apparently there is a first time for everything. Sherlock Holmes is babysitting for three days and it's not related to a case." He gave a slight pause, hairline shifting at the thought. "It's not, right? We don't need to have the talk about what you can and can't do with a baby, yes?"

"I'm almost insulted," Sherlock said, though he certainly did not sound overly bothered by the inquiry. He'd earned such suspicion over the years and it was hard to fault a stressed man for covering all his bases. "No, no case. Should be a rather quiet few days, really-Analise's plans on vocal dissonance not included."

John gave a short laugh at that. "Well, it wouldn't have compared to mine had Mary insisted on my mother coming into town to give a hand. I swear, prayer alone is keeping her off our doorstep. She's been dropping hints about how helpful she'd be ever since we told her about the, uh... well, ever since we told her." He took another deep breath, good cheer only doing so much to keep the weariness from his body. His shoulders told the whole story. His face added details to the facts. "She means well," he said, "They all do. Not going to lie, though, I'm kind of looking forward to it just being Mary and me for a few days. And she told me to tell you that she will be calling and it's not that she doesn't trust you but that is her baby and she expects photos daily."

"I'll try and remember."

"I'm sure she'll find time to remind you." John patted his open hand against his thigh as he looked back at the waiting cab. Time to press on. He took another long exhale. "Okay. Pushchair, diaper bag, the other bag has about two weeks worth of clothes in so it should get you through the next few days. Books and toys in there as well. Bottles and formula in the diaper bag, instructions on the packaging, some rags and blankets... um.. Mary packed all these and I didn't see much left in the room after so if you need something, it should be in there. I've got my mobile and..." He patted his thigh again, shoulders too stiff to shrug as his face did the rest. "And I'll be back to get her on Sunday."

"Yes, that does seem to be everything." Sherlock felt the awkward silence of a lingering goodbye and offered what he could into it as they continued to stand like slightly swaying trees planted in the pavement. "She'll be fine, John," he said, his voice softer than intended but not out of place in sentiment.

John chuckled nervously. "I'm stalling aren't I? Sorry."

"I meant Mary."

He pursed his lips. "Yeah. Yeah, I know. Going to try and keep her away from spiders and anything else that might turn her into a super hero while she's radioactive all the same."

"I don't think it works that way but it's probably safer for the spider population as well," Sherlock said with a short chuckle. With John, he never needed to laugh alone. The doctor rocked back on his heels with a giggle, his hand coming up to pat Sherlock on the back, clasping his shoulder in a tight squeeze that felt much firmer than necessary, lingering both in the feel of his grip and a ghost of it after as he walked back to the door to call out for Mrs. Hudson. A kiss to Mrs. Hudson's cheek, a kiss to Analise's head, and John was walking back out to the cab with the same military stroll that made it impossible for him to blend in to a crowd. John didn't look back and Sherlock did not wait. Instead he walked back into the house, pushing a few items with his foot to get the door to shut behind him.

"What did he say when you told him?" Mrs. Hudson asked, Analise on her good hip as she stood in the hall.

Sherlock started, brows folding in confusion. "Told him? Told him what?"

"You know, about you being retired now."

"Oh." That. "Slipped my mind, I suppose. Knowing him, he'd take it as a sign of some midlife crisis. Don't really need him worrying unnecessarily."

Mrs. Hudson tutted as she adjusted her hold on the ruffled rump in her hand. "Well, you are of that age," she said as though the words held some hidden wisdom.

"Hm." He much preferred to think of his age as more a coincidence than a statistic. He held his arms out, fully prepared to ignore the topic entirely. "I'll take her now."

"What about all these bags in my hall?"

Sherlock shook his head, not in the least dissuaded as he took Analise gently by the sides and slowly pulled her away. "I'll get them in a minute. You get tea started and join us when you're done." He held the child to his chest, her face taking to the dip of his neck as she settled comfortably against him.

Mrs. Hudson frowned at her loss, wiping down the front of her blue dress as she stood now empty handed. "You're sure you'll be alright with her? I wouldn't mind at all if you wanted to just leave her with me the whole time."

"Yes, we'll be fine, thank you," he assured her, and with a long step over the bags he hurried his way back up the stairs to his flat on the first floor before he could hear a word of argument.

His flat had seen several changes in the recent weeks. The kitchen, perhaps more notably than the rest, sported a clean table forever scarred by chemical spills, scratches and burns under which sat several packed boxes neatly labeled and stacked. More boxes sat in safe piles no more than two boxes high along the walls with books and files waiting to be cataloged and taped shut. One book shelf was already empty, the one to the left of the fireplace where John's chair used to sit. Sherlock had pushed it to a forgotten corner and replaced it, for now, with a small pen of white mesh and sunshine yellow cloth over which a mobile of zoo animals sat stationary in an arch above. Sherlock had considered, very briefly, getting the one that came in pink which seemed to be common practice when buying for a little girl. He preferred the more gender neutral yellow, though, and could only imagine she would appreciate it as well as a deviation from her pink saturation and stagnation.

He approached it and paused in front of it to show her, not really certain what went for approval in baby. She wasn't crying which seemed to be the best sign. She didn't seem to even be looking at it either, though. Her head was still stubbornly resting on his shoulder. It was hard to mind. She'd see it later. "That's yours," he said, just to be certain she'd know. "Sorry the rest is a bit of a mess. Tried to clean up but I'm rather in the middle of moving right now."

She made not a peep. Sherlock angled them both in front of the mirror to get a better view of her face, eyes open and mouth quite stuffed with most of her fist. Awake and alert, content to listen, perhaps even enjoying the rumble his talking produced. It was much more than the skull ever gave him as an audience. He gave her back a gentle pat as he paced back to the window by his music stand. "It should be much better once most of my things are relocated to my home in Brighton. Lucky find, really. I think you'd like it. It reminds me a little of a place your father once brought me. It's not far from the water and there's flowering trees and quite the array of local flora for the apiaries set up on the grounds. Two guest rooms so I'll certainly never be wanting for extra space. Can't really expect to be allowed to retire quietly so I'll be keeping both properties for now to save on the occasional commute. Not more than a year though, I shouldn't think. I'll certainly be spending the spring and summer months there. If I move my science equipment now, perhaps I will take my own retirement seriously as well."

It still seemed like a very odd idea. No more murder, no more missing persons, no more serial killers and crime syndicates or the sword of Damocles dangling above his head. Maybe he'd allow himself one or two cases now and then in the Sussex area, something of a rare treat just to prove to himself he still could. But the misery and splendor of London, his London, would surely be even more rare.

He sighed, letting his cheek fall to her head as he looked out at his city and all the brilliant destruction she concealed. "It's quiet and peaceful there, Analise," he said. "I don't really do quiet and peaceful. As much as I wonder sometimes if I'm making a mistake, though, I still feel... good... that I'm trying at all. Maybe I need change. Maybe I'll like gardening, cross breed my own flowers and create new hybrid species like some botanist monk. Maybe I'll like bees. I have a whole new territory to map out and learn the way I know London. I doubt it will take long but it's still something. Something to look forward to. I haven't looked in that direction in a very long time."

Analise said nothing, a spot of drool landing on Sherlock's lapel as he held her.

"Sherlock," Mrs. Hudson called up. "The bags!"

Rolling his eyes Sherlock crossed to the yellow pen, gently lowering a slightly fussy Analise into the padded cell. She seemed to rebel against being put down now that she'd had so much attention through the day. She kicked her feet, the white lace socks matching the ruffles on her bloomers, her face turning pink to match her dress. "Shh," he cautioned, stroking her soft head.

She was having none of it. Sherlock stood and set the mobile spinning, the giraffes and elephants flying like the proverbial pigs that should have heralded this day. He was halfway down the hall before she started screaming none the less. Mrs. Hudson could deal with that.

Sherlock needed to get the bags.

I just want to say thank you to everyone who has read and commented. There will be a third story in this series so look for 'Raw' in the coming weeks.

If you haven't already, I really recommend you check out Archive of Our Own (Ao3). I'm Nikoshinigami there and you can find all my Sherlock fan works there in a much nicer format that also allows for me to easily reply to comments. You can also hit me up at tumblr (nikoford).

Again, thank you all for reading! ~Niko