Distasteful Profession

Family, Friends, and The Watsons.

At the end of the week, Mycroft has woken up the Consulting Detective by entering his flat and almost kick open the door. He was definitely angry. "Sherlock! Brother mine! Get your arse out here!" He shouted, losing his composure. Sherlock slowly stirred from his room.

"What the hell!?" Mycroft asked as he gestured to Rosie, "John must've went to the store..." Sherlock muttered as he grabbed the box of wipes from the coffee table and a nappie. He quickly changed the child as Mycroft looked away. "Sherlock, there's a wake and funeral, today." Mycroft announced. "Why haven't I been informed before today?!" Sherlock asked. He threw away the old nappie.

"Well, that's your fault, isn't it? Always keeping to yourself. How did you even know what was happening?" He asked. Sherlock looked up at him. "Euros told John and we went to visit in her last minutes," He said, his voice clouded by sadness for a moment. "John!? That man you've been sleeping with?! Sherlock, you know what'll happen when he finds out that you killed her, right?" Mycroft asked, leaning in.

He was once again sitting in John's armchair and Sherlock had once more decided to bite his tongue. "He'll leave me, take Rosie... I know." He said, holding the child in his arms as she was drifting off into sleep once more. "Brother..." Mycroft started, "Are you actually, starting to fall in love with Watson? An officer who, might I remind you, is out for your head?!" He whispered loudly as if someone were to be listening in on what they were talking about. "I'm pretty sure the scar up your arm can remind you well enough, that I do not need you babysitting me!" Sherlock shouted, but quickly hushed as Rosie began to twitch in his arms. "Now, I would like you to leave my residence, please." He said, straightening his posture.

The door opened and the room quieted as John was entering the room, struggling with grocery bags and a slight scowl on his face. "I had a row with the machines. Hey, are you u-" he started to ask, but seeing as he was talking to Mycroft, he must've been. He frowned once more and most of the energy left in his body from shopping had just vanished. "Good Morning, Mycroft. I didn't expect you to be here." John said, wanting him to leave. Mycroft grinned. "Good Morning, John. How was, uh, Sarah, was it, last night?" He asked. John stopped in his tracks. Sherlock's head shot up to look at John, but as John refused to look him in the eye, Sherlock looked down at Rosie. "Well, Is better be going. I've got to get ready, and I'd expect you will be at the wake, John? You two are basically joined by the hip these days." Mycroft's smirk widened as he shook John's hand and walked out, grabbing the umbrella by the door.

"Sarah's?" Sherlock asked, then nodded to himself. "Yeah, we put in a DVD and got takeaway," John said, picking the groceries from the bags and putting them in their spots. "There's a wake today?" John asked, closing the fridge door, but not daring to turn around. "Mm-hmm," Sherlock hummed. There was a silence before Sherlock spoke again. "You're being expected to come, too, apparently." John sighed. "Do you really want me to come?" He asked, turning to look at Sherlock, who was petting Rosie's hair. "Do you think I need you?" Sherlock asked, deepening his voice to hiss the hurt he felt about John visiting a woman's house last night.

John walked over to pluck Rosie from Sherlock's arms and told him to get ready. "Are you going?" Sherlock asked, hesitantly rising from his chair, daring to get lost in the Officer/ Doctor's dark blue eyes. "You don't need me," He said. "If you have faith," Said Sherlock walking past John. "You idiot!" John shouted, putting Rosie in her play pen to run after him as he slowed by his bedroom door. John shoved him against the wall, holding Sherlock by his collar. "I'm not saying that I don't have faith in you, but that's not what I bloody meant!!" He shouted. "I'm confused," Muttered Sherlock, "Do you want to come, or not!?" Asked Sherlock, more Stern than last time. John's breathing gradually calmed as he let go of Sherlock and walked out to the sitting room to grab Rosie. "So...?" Sherlock trailed his question off as he heard John mutter to her, "Let's go, get ready." Sherlock smiled slightly to himself.