221B Baker Street was extremely quiet. The only noise that could be heard was the slight bubbling of one of Sherlock's experiments and John turning the pages of the morning paper. This silence was suddenly shattered by a piercing scream from the foyer below their flat. The paper was rustled and a beaker was smashed as both of the men flew into action. John was the first of the pair to barrel down the staircase onto the landing. His hand tightened on the Browning strapped to his belt. The doctor froze, his hand dropped and his eyes widened at the sight he saw. Before he could act any further, Sherlock bounded down the steps and collided with Johns stationary form.

"John, what the hell are you doing?" Sherlock urged John to move aside. "I cannot see what you gaping at, Move!"

"Sherlock." John's voice was quiet and soft as he turned to face the detective. "It's a… a…a baby." John's voice faltered with confusion as the pair stood staring at the small person currently dozing in a pram at the base of the stairs. Sherlock's usual stony expression had contorted into one of bewilderment as he watched the tiny infant squirm in its seat.

"Sorry Dearie, that shopping has always been a hassle since I had my hip done." Mrs Hudson hobbled towards the child. She cooed over the baby and tickled its stomach. She went to grab the handle of the pram and looked up to see the doctor and the detective watching with very lost expressions plastered on their faces.

"Hello boys, no need to look so flummoxed, it's just a baby." Mrs Hudson strained to contain her laughter.

"Excellent observation, Mrs Hudson but whose infant is this?" Sherlock attempted to mask his bemusement with a display of his wit earning him an uncertain smirk from John.

"Well, this is Isabella and-" Mrs Hudson began before Sherlock interrupted her, "Wait, I will come to my own conclusions." Sherlock shot down the remainder of the stairs and began his verbal deductions.

"So ...Isabella, an Italian name derived from Elizabeth and meaning consecrated to God. Doesn't necessarily mean that you come from a religious background, many names have been changed to fit modern times. Your new clothing suggests you are first born and the style corresponds with young parents." Sherlock paused to take a breath and turned to Mrs Hudson, "Judging by your apparent connection to the infant I would assume you have a family link. I recall that you mentioned something about your granddaughter producing a child nine months ago. Going by the bags under your eyes pertaining to your lack of sleep and the slight increase in the frequency of your frown lines you seem confused and frustrated." During Sherlock's next pause he heard a disapproving grunt come from John, he never did appreciate Sherlock making such bold remarks about people's appearances. Ignoring John, Sherlock continued, "This could be the direct effect of many problems, more likely it would be a relationship dispute between your granddaughter and her partner considering their age and experiences with the pressure associated with the upbringing of child." He bought his deductions to a close with a concluding statement. "So I can only assume that you as a caring great grandmother happily obliged to caring for the infant whilst the parents try to 'talk it out.'" Sherlock being Sherlock rounded off his sentence with a tone of revulsion at the prospect of a feeble attempt at saving a relationship.

Mrs Hudson stood wide-eyed. She had witnessed Sherlock's deductions before but, never had one hit so close to home. She shifted anxiously beside the pram and looked at the floor, afraid of anymore of Sherlock's verbal assaults. Sherlock's expression returned to confusion at Mrs Hudson's reaction.

John continued down the final steps and saw Mrs Hudson's downcast face; the poor woman looked close to tears. He nudged Sherlock and whispered threateningly, "Sherlock, apologise."

Sherlock turned to John and narrowed his piercing grey eyes. John responded with an equally hostile glare, "Now, Sherlock"

The detective rolled his eyes and returned his sight to the distressed woman, "I must offer you my apologies, Mrs Hudson. I was unaware my comments would cause you any amount of grief." Sherlock attempted to sound as sincere as possible but his apology was met with an exasperated sigh from John.

The good doctor stepped forward past Sherlock who had all but given up on the situation and retreated to the staircase. John placed a comforting hand on Mrs Hudson's shoulder and said softly, "Just ignore him, he's a right git sometimes." That earned him a small sniffle-like laugh from their not-housekeeper. "How about you go and take some of your herbal soothers and settle down for the evening whilst we-," John spared a glance at Sherlock huddled and sulking on the stairs "Well, I'll look after Isabella."

Mrs Hudson considered this for a moment "I guess that would be okay, she's a fairly quiet baby."

Sherlock had only just tuned back into the conversation and he leapt from his position on the stairs, "John!"

The doctor turned to Sherlock and calmly replied, "Yes, Sherlock."

The detectives eyes widened in disbelief, "No. Not happening, I refuse."

John shook his head "Do you think I need your permission?" The little girl wriggling in her seat caught Johns attention. His tone immediately shifted from condescending to endearing, "Hello there, little one. Don't listen to Sherlock he's just a big meanie."

Sherlock found this interaction cringe worthy and instantly regretted what he would have to resort to, "But, Joooohn," he drawled whilst he slumped towards the doctor, "I was in the middle of a very important experiment." Sherlock gave John his best (what the Yarders referred to as) 'puppy-eyes'. They usually worked when Sherlock annoyed John at a crime scene and was resistant to assisting him.

"Well then, you will just have to baby-proof it." John said this with a matter-of-fact tone as he gathered Isabella up in his arms. He continued speaking softly to the child as he climbed the steps back to 221B.

"And how do you suppose I go about that?" Sherlock shouted after John.

John paused on the staircase and called back, "I don't know, you're the genius!"