"Sherlock where's the cake?" you asked, frantically running around the house in search of it.
"What cake?" he asked, looking up from the fruit and vegetables he was carefully decorating on the plate. Yes, Sherlock Holmes was decorating finger food on a plate, the world had turned upside down.
"Rosie's birthday cake!"
He gave you a strange look. "That's what this is? A birthday party? I thought it was a celebration of the case I just solved. No wonder it said 'Happy Birthday Rosie' on the cake..." He spread his lips apart in an innocent grimace. "The garbage truck hasn't come by yet, I'm sure you can go get it still."
"William!" you yelled, running your fingers through your hair in a frustrated manner and rubbing your eyes. Two hands grabbed yours and you opened your eyes to be met to the sparkling blue hue of Sherlock's.
"It's outside on the table," he said with a smirk.
"Are you lying to me?" you asked, praying he wasn't.
"(Y/n), when have I ever lied to you?" he asked, eyebrows scrunching together.
"There was the time I picked up Rosie from daycare and I came home to the house trashed and you with a 'black eye' and you told me that people broke in."
"That was an-"
"Or on our wedding day when Greg had to come tell me you were walking around in a sheet because you claimed you lost your suit."
"You laughed at that one," he said. You gave him a look. "Okay you laughed weeks later, but you still laughed."
"Or the time-"
"Okay okay I get it. No I'm not lying to you. I snuck the cake past you when you were looking in the dishwasher for it." You rested your forehead on his chest, taking calming breaths. You wanted this birthday party to be perfect for your little girl. "Do you normally hide things in the dishwasher (y/n)?"
"Shut up," you laughed, lifting your head and kissing him.
"Leave room for Rosie," came a teasing voice to your left. You looked over and laughed at the site of your daughter. She refused to wear a dress, which you were fine with, and insisted on wearing a t-shirt with a cat on it and baggy sport shorts. But to top it all off, she had a tiara on her head. She was barefoot, seeing as it was a warm summers day was running around the yard with her friends. Her arms, which had been crossed, came undone and poked her face on the cheek, indicating you two to kiss her.
You both walked over and bent down, planting a big smooch on her. She giggled as you started to tickle her, her boisterous laugh echoing through the kitchen. "Mum stop or I'll murder you," she hiccuped between laughs.
You stopped tickling instantly, staring wide eyed at your daughter, then glancing at Sherlock who had stood abruptly and gone back to cutting fruits and veggies. "Um Rosie, where'd you hear that phrase from?" you asked.
"Dad," she said, pointing a finger at Sherlock.
Sherlock looked up from his cutting and gave you an innocent smile. "I don't know what she's talking about," he said.
"But dad remember you told me that one time when I wouldn't stop touching the livers you were dissecting? And then you told me to tell that to anyone who bothered me?"
You looked at Sherlock, raising your eyebrows and waiting for his answer. "Uhhh-"
"Go play with your friends Rosie, we'll be out to light the candles soon," you said, giving her one more kiss and sending her on her way. You stood up again and walked behind Sherlock, wrapping your arms around his midsection. "A murder threat from a five year old?"
"I was just taking precautions," he answered.
~
"Happy birthday to Rosie, happy birthday to youuuuu." The song finished and everyone laughed as Rosie blew out all 5 of her candles in one breath.
"Did you make a wish?" asked Greg, leaning down next to her; he absolutely adored her.
"Yes, but I can't tell you Georgio," she giggled. Greg rolled his eyes, but ignored her anyways and planted a kiss on the top of her head. You cut the cake and handed out pieces to everyone, making sure to give the one with the most frosting to Rosie, although you were sure you'd regret it later. After everyone was served, you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turned around, and was instantly bombarded with frosting.
"Mummy you forgot your piece of cake," laughed Rosie. Sherlock was holding her up in her arms, an evil smirk planted on his face.
"Sherlock, put the child down," you threatened, rubbing some of the cake off your face and onto your hand.
"No way, she's my shield," he laughed. "Why do you think I've kept her around all this time, you won't hurt me if she's in my arms," he continued teasing.
"Don't be so sure," you snickered as you started running towards the two. Sherlock set Rosie down and made a run for it, but fortunately tripped over a ball in the grass. He face planted and you flipped him over, pinned him down, and spread the frosting all over his beautifully sculptured face. "Pay back," you chuckled, rubbing the rest of the frosting on his shirt.
"I'll make sure to get revenge on you tonight," he winked.
"Sherlock Holmes," you gasped, swatting his arm, "this is a children's party!"
"Woah (y/n), I meant I'll slip another experiment into your nightly tea, but I mean-"
He was interrupted by Rosie tackling him, along with a couple of her friends. You got up before you were pulled into the mess, and laughed as he playfully fought off the little minions. You went into the kitchen to grab some towels, and when you came back out, he had convinced Rosie it was time to open gifts. She sat on the ground, presents around her.
Sherlock came up beside you and you handed him a towel, your eyes trained on Rosie. She was a spitting image of Mary in her baby pictures, but her eyes were so soft like John's. You sighed, imagining how different it would be if they were here. Even after all these years, the hole in your heart never got smaller, it just became easier to ignore.
"Your facial display along with your oculesics are giving off the emotion of sadness," said Sherlock robotically, his eyes studying yours seriously. You glanced back at Rosie, her big smile warming up your heart. You sighed, leaning against Sherlock's chest.
"I just wish they were here." It was all you could say without bursting into a fit of tears.
"Me too," mumbled Sherlock, placing a comforting hand on your back. "But it is what it is."
A/N
FOLKS
I already have the cover for my next book designed. Only 16 parts left and we're switching again! (BTW for those of you who don't know, I do have a book out before this. Same thing, it's just the first book of my Sherlock Imagines)
#SHERPRESSION #SHERPRESSION #SHERPRESSION
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(Mine is Blubberbutt Lumberlatch)
"In the end, we all become stories." - Margaret Atwood
