The mess you've made

Chapter four

When John finished cleaning up and returned to the living room, Sherlock was happily curled up on the couch cuddling Sam to his chest, smiling at the TV. Sherlock hadn't noticed John standing there so John peeked at the TV and saw that Sherlock was smiling at a kids program. The doctor bit his lip, trying to suppress a smile but failed and giggled to himself.

Sherlock chuckled at the show and looked down at Sam, "did you see that? That was quite funny." He laughed then turned his attention back to the screen.

John shook his head and smiled to himself. If he'd have know that Sherlock would be so entertained by a children's show, he'd have started putting them on long ago.

"Enjoying that are you?" John chuckled, snapping Sherlock's attention to where he stood in the doorway. Sherlock blushed and tried to act casual.

"No," He lied, "it's utter rubbish." He tried to sound bored.

"Okay." John smiled, unconvinced, and walked over to the man and baby on the couch. He sat down next to Sherlock and placed his hand on the detectives knee as he leaned over him to see Sam.

"So why his he here?" John looked up at Sherlock after Sam latched his hand to one of his fingers.

"Harry's babysitter canceled on her last minute and she needed someone to take care of him while she went to a councillor to attempt to fix things with Clara. She hoped you'd be here to look after him but you weren't here and I was..." Sherlock said in a bored tone, eyes still fixed on the screen. John nodded along with his words.

"Thank you. For taking care of him I mean. I know you probably didn't want to." He said before giving Sherlock's knee a squeeze and leaning back.

"How was work?" Sherlock asked, even though he didn't really care.

"It was madness. It's coming into flu season, so there were double the amount of usual patients." John sighed, tipping his head back and closing his eyes, thankful he'd been allowed to finish work early. All he wanted was to have a shower and crawl into bed.

When John opened his eyes next, it was because there was something poking his arm. He opened his eyes and found Sherlock leaning close, extending the baby out to him.

"Can you hold him for a second?" Sherlock murmured. John nodded and held his arms out in perpetration for the child. Sherlock placed Sam in John's arms and disappeared into the kitchen. John smiled down at Sam who was looking very sleepy.

"Are you tired Sammy? Me too." He whispered, kissing the infant on the forehead. John noticed the chill in the air and stood up to find something to wrap the near-naked baby in. He walked into the kitchen and searched through the baby bag, finding a blue blanket. He also found baby food in the bag and chuckled to himself. Sherlock had tried to cook for Sam and didn't even think to look in the bag for food. He wrapped Sam in the warm blanket and made his way back to the living room.

John stood in the middle of the room and swayed from side to side, trying to rock Sam to sleep. He suddenly heard a sharp yelp from the other side of the flat and snapped his head around to the direction of the noise.

"Sherlock? You okay?" He shouted.

"I'm fine." Sherlock responded. John sighed and turned his head back to Sam, who had been startled by John's shout.

"Sorry Sammy, go to sleep buddy." He whispered as he continued to rock the child. Moments later Sherlock rushed over to John, holding out his finger.

"Will this get infected?" He asked franticly. John leaned closer to inspect the madman's finger and saw that there was a large cut across the pad of his index finger, blood pouring out of the cut.