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Toasted Marshmallows

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Surprisingly, for how little he ate, Sherlock had a bit of a sweet tooth. John struggled to get him to eat a full meal, but he was always sneaking sweets. Small cakes and biscuits from Mrs. Hudson. Candies that John left on the kitchen counter. Sherlock told himself it was just to keep his blood sugar up during a case or an in depth experiment. He even kept a package of marshmallows hidden high in the cupboard where John couldn’t see them. The big ones, perfect for roasting and melting. Sometimes, when John was out, he’d put one on a fork and toast it over the flame of his Bunsen Burner. Only because it made it easier to eat, not because he liked the gooey sweetness. Not at all.

Today though, he had Rosie perched on the table, her legs dangling over the edge.

“Alright, Little Bee, keep your hands back. We’ll never hear the end of it from your father if you burn your hand.” Sherlock pushes a marshmallow onto the tines of a fork and turns on the gas burner.

Rosie watches with excited giggles and Sherlock holds the marshmallow over the flame. The closest side browns, and Sherlock pulls it back, touching it gingerly with his free hand and blowing on it.

Rosie let’s out and excited squeal, wiggling on the tabletop. “Mallow!!” She giggles.

“Now it’s still warm. Be careful not to get it everywhere.” Sherlock pulls it off the fork and it leaves behind some gooey center. Rosie takes it from him eagerly and puts it directly in her mouth, humming and smiling at him as she chews.

“Good? Isn’t it, Little Bee?” Sherlock gets another marshmallow out of the bag, putting it on the fork. This time he holds it closer to the flame and it catches fire. He pulls it up and watches it burn a moment before giving it a good strong blow to put it out.

Rosie squeals. “Hot!!”

“Yes, Bee, Fire is hot. Very good. That’s why we mustn’t touch it.” He pulls his marshmallow off the fork and looks it over before popping it into his mouth.

“More? More mallow, pease?” Rosie looks up at him with a pretty grin.

“How can I say no to such a beautiful Little Bee?”

* * *

Shutting off the shower, John opens the shower curtain and grabs a towel, starting to dry himself off.

After fixing a full breakfast for Rosie, Sherlock and himself, he had asked Sherlock if he minded watching Rosie for a bit so could take a quick shower. They had just finished a case the night before, and John had been too exhausted to do anything other than fall into bed the night before. He had gone down to retrieve Rosie from Mrs. H just as she had woken up.

Putting the towel over his head, he dries his hair, making it stick up all over. He pulls the towel down, drying the drips and dampness from his beard. As the steam starts to settle in the bathroom, John gets a whiff of what smells like smoke. He sniffs again just to be sure and is about to call out to Sherlock when the shrill whine of the smoke alarm in the kitchen starts sounding.

“Bugger! JOOHHN!!” Comes Sherlock’s loud bellow through the door, accompanied by a squeal from Rosie.

John nearly falls over in his haste to leap out of the tub and wrap the towel around his waist. He wrenches open the bathroom door and darts across into the kitchen.

Sherlock is standing near the table lifting his bare foot, melty marshmallow goo stringing from his foot to the floor. Rosie sits covering her ears from the loud scream of the smoke alarm, still with a huge grin on her sticky face. The Bunsen Burner is still lit on the table, with its flame on full blast.

“John! Did you put the batteries back into the smoke detector?!” Sherlock bellows at him.

John huffs, holding his towel in one hand and reaching across the kitchen table with his other, to switch off the gas to the Bunsen Burner.

“Of course I did, you git!” John hurries hastily to to grab the dish towel off the counter and moves over to where the smoke alarm is mounted to the ceiling. He waves the dish towel frantically jumping a bit to reach it.

The smoke alarm still screams as Sherlock drags a chair over to where John is, stepping up onto it with his sticky foot. Sherlock presses the button and it stops beeping.

Rosie squeals and claps her hands. “Loud!”

John turns and moves over to her. “What’s all over your face...and all over the floor? Sherlock?” He turns to Sherlock, who has taken the smoke detector off of the ceiling. “Oh no! You leave that up there. WITH the batteries IN!”

Sherlock huffs and puts it back.

Rosie grins up at John, showing him her sticky fingers. “Mallow, Daddy! Papa Mallow!”

“Marshmallows? Sherlock, it’s nine thirty in the morning.”

Sherlock steps down off the chair and flops down into it. “We finished all of our breakfast. Didn’t we, Little Bee?”

“Fafast.. Mallow. Hot!” Rosie agrees with a squeal.

John sighs. “Clean up this mess, would you?” He lifts Rosie to the floor one handed, still gripping his towel with the other. He moves over to Sherlock, leaning to kiss his forehead. “No more fires while I’m in the shower, hmm?”

Sherlock huffs.

“Clean up, then we can take Rosie down to the park to see the ducks?” John lifts his eyebrows in question.

Sherlock looks up at him quickly. “We can take those stale Hobnobs to feed them!”

“Mmm. Let me just get dressed.” John kisses him again, this time in his messy curls and heads for the bedroom. Back down the hall he can hear Sherlock and Rosie.

“Let’s hurry, Little Bee! Your father is taking us to feed the ducks! Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“Daddy, Papa, Bee see ducks?”

“Yes, Little Bee, just the three of us.”