The Only Thing Worth Fighting For

Chapter 8

"Sherlock?" John called from the living room, startling Sherlock out of his mind palace and forcing the detective to wander through to where his best friend stood. Sherlock raised an eyebrow in silent questioning as John pottered around the kitchen whilst keeping an eye on Rosie in her chair. "Harry is coming over tonight for dinner. I was going to cook but I can't do it alone."

"Why is she coming?" Sherlock asked with a frown, he wasn't Harry's biggest fan and she wasn't his. Sherlock was confused by the social cues he was supposed to follow when believing her bullshit about being sober. He knew that she was still drinking and Harry knew that he knew; an issue which had caused a large disturbance the last time the older Watson visited.

"Because she wants to meet Rosie," John frowned. "Are you going to behave? I can't be arsed with any drama."

"I didn't start the last argument!" Sherlock insisted, his eyes burning with intense rage. "It was her fault."

"You told everyone she had taken to drinking hand sanitizer," John sighed. "I'm not surprised she was annoyed."

"It was true. You would have noticed if you observed," Sherlock grumbled, picking at the roots of a nearby onion on the kitchen counter.

"Regardless, I just want a quiet night in with my sister, baby daughter and best friend."

"I'll ask Angelo to provide the food, that way we don't have to worry about cooking or stress," Sherlock smiled softly. "Just give me a list and I'll arrange everything."

Clara and Harry arrived just before 7pm with a smile and a bottle of midrange wine. Harry looked healthy and beaming as she hugged her brother and nodded a hello to Sherlock who was friendly in his welcome to Baker Street, taking their coats and inviting them into the living room where Rosie waited.

"Oh, there she is!" Harry cooed, rushing over and grabbing the baby much to Sherlock's nervousness. The detective watched her intensively as she hugged the baby close and sat on the sofa beside Clara, stroking the baby's face and mumbling sweet words.

"I'm sorry we didn't get to the funeral," Clara smiled softly.

"You didn't come to the wedding either," Sherlock grumbled under his breath as he glared at the older sibling. "Not a big surprise you didn't bother turning up."

Harry returned Sherlock's glare before turning her attention to John and his cast covered arm. "How are you feeling?"

"Annoyed with this thing to be honest," John smiled, continuing setting the table with a pitcher of water and the silverware borrowed from Mrs Hudson, "but it'll be off soon."

Harry turned from her brother and fumbled for her phone; taking photos of Rosie, she asked Clara to take some of her and the baby together to frame. Her eye was drawn to Sherlock who was still lurking beside the child nervously.

"I'm not going to drop her or hurt her," Harry insisted angrily, glaring at the detective. "She's my niece."

Sherlock looked over at John who was humming as he turned to grab the crockery for their meal and then back to Harry. "I don't want to fight with you. He's been excited for this all day and I don't want to ruin it."

Harry blinked and looked at Clara. "Jesus, it's finally happened."

"What? What has?" Sherlock asked in confusion, his brows knitted with bewilderment.

"You and him."

Sherlock shook his head, "I don't understand."

"Something is different. Something has changed; the old Sherlock wouldn't have thought twice about upsetting him, me or anybody else. Suddenly you've become aware of what John needs, you're thinking of him rather than yourself."