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Piece By Piece

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“Daddy, The Hobbit, please?” requested Minerva.

Sherlock made a face and glanced at Molly, who was sitting on the other side of their daughter’s bed. “Why does she like that book so much?”

Molly chuckled and kissed her husband on the cheek. “It’s because you’re so good at voices. It’s also an excellent book.”

“I like it when you do the dragon’s voice, Daddy!” the three-year-old girl added.

“All right.” He picked up the book from the nightstand and opened it. “Now, where were we?” He took a deep breath. “‘Well, thief! I smell you and I feel…’”