(Seven Months, One Week - Stronger than You Think)

"Come on... come on, come on," he muttered, holding his arms out to his daughter.

Finally, finally, Spring had started to crawl. She had managed the position and had seemed to figure out the mechanics of hands and knees walking. Sherlock vaguely wondered if she was going to take to bum shuffling, too, but right now... this was enough.

Spring shuffled the equivalent of many two steps before her arms gave and she flopped to her stomach.

Sherlock sighed. As well as exciting and anxiety-producing, it was also very frustrating for someone who didn't like waiting on things.

Not to be deterred, he smiled faintly and helped Spring back into the crawling position. "You've got it. You just need to practise more. Try it again."

At least she was willing, Sherlock thought, as Spring bobbed awkwardly to work her limbs into the proper movement to pull herself along.

"Good girl," Sherlock praised quietly, crawling a foot or so away to try and coax her into crawling just that much further. "Come on, Spring..." He held out his hands. "Come on!"

"She's not a dog, you know."

Sherlock's attention snapped to the doorway, where John was standing, looking amused as he took off his gloves.

"You didn't tell me she was crawling," he continued, pulling off his scarf and stepping into the sitting room.

Sherlock huffed through his nose and sat back on his legs, not quite making it up to a glare but not managing a blank face, either. "You could have knocked. I didn't hear you come up."

"I know," John said coyly. "Mr Notice Everything didn't hear me coming. I found it funny..." He trailed off, looking down at Spring. "Just today, then?"

Sherlock followed John's gaze, ignoring the rib. "Yes. Just in the past hour, actually. She's not very good," he said, watching as Spring flopped back to her stomach. "She's more interested in her plushies and things..."

John smiled, taking off his coat to sit down next to Sherlock. "Don't rush it. Once she starts crawling, you'll be dead tired chasing her around."

Sherlock grunted in response, watching Spring play with a ring of plastic keys nearby.

"Are you alright?" John asked. "I was just joking, you know," he said, looking back at Sherlock.

Sherlock didn't look away from Spring. "I know that. I'm alright."

"Sherlock."

Sherlock sighed. "I'm just not supposed to be here," he said quietly.

"Why not?"

Sherlock frowned, looking at John. "I was never supposed to have kids. You know that. I'm singular. I work alone, always worked alone, before you. But now I have Spring..." he trailed off.

"Just because you were always alone doesn't mean you have to do your whole life, Sherlock," John said, looking away from his gaze and to Spring again. "Accepting people into your life isn't a bad thing."

"I know that," Sherlock said. "But I was just never supposed to be here."

"You are now. Would you change it?"

The fact of the matter is that Sherlock can't respond to that immediately. Yes, he would change it to go back to where he was before, back to cases and none of this infant trouble. But, at the same time, he was already wrapped around his daughter's finger and that... scared him.

He decided not to respond at all... which was an answer in itself, it seemed.

"You're allowed to be scared, Sherlock. But don't doubt yourself. Because you're a good dad," John said, smiling faintly.

Sherlock sighed, reaching for Spring's keys to rattle them enticingly. "Yes. Now that we've gotten disgustingly sentimental, can we move onto something else? I'm hungry."

John chuckled. "Why is it you never ate when I lived with you, but when I stop by, you always want me to cook?"

"I miss your cooking," Sherlock said bluntly.

John rolled his eyes. "Three years ago, I would have loved to hear that."

"You still love hearing it," Sherlock said coyly, breaking into another smile when Spring threw her keys down on the carpet. "And Spring knows you do, too... don't you?" he asked quietly, reaching forward to scoop her into his arms.

I really meant to update this weeks ago... and then I forgot I was working on it and had half the chapter written, ended up scrapping it, and wrote this instead. EI Cochrane, this is for you since you asked. :p

Maybe teething next... so take from that hint what you will. I do not own Sherlock. Thank you!