Crack-itidy crack fic. I make no apologies, and blame the daylight savings time for my temporary insanity. A short drabble.
EDIT: This has been re-edited since first published in order to fit with the expansion to a longer fic.
Sherlock Holmes is locked in an endgame with a ruthless foe.
His opponent stares at him, steely-eyed, from the other side of the table. They'd been caught like this for what seemed like ages, neither one of them giving ground, neither one of them willing to concede defeat. To give in would be to give up, to admit to weakness, something both of them were absolutely loathe to do.
"No," grumbled his foe, his face split by a frown stretching across his features.
"Yes," counters Sherlock, his own expression a mirror of the one across from him.
"I don't want to," says the other, crossing his arms in front of him to make his point.
Sherlock sighs. "You have to."
Sherlock considers this a moment before answering. "Because it's good for you."
"I had vegetables yesterday," his opponent insists, glaring down at the plate before him as he speaks. "Mum says I'll get scurvy, but it doesn't happen that quickly. So why should I eat them?"
Fair point, Sherlock thinks to himself, but he won't let his adversary win that easily. "Vegetables are an integral part of the daily recommended intake for a child your age. Therefore, it is advisable to follow guidelines and consume your daily quota of leafy greens."
The boy in front of him cocks his head to the side and considers this. "They are only guidelines. Not rules. It's a voluntary program."
It's in moments like this that there truly is no denying this child's paternity. "Your mother requested that I ensure that you eat your vegetables," he says, attempting to appeal to the boy's sense of responsibility.
The boy blinks at him. "It was only a request."
Sherlock sighs, yet again. "Eating your vegetables will enable us to overcome this impasse and get back to the puzzle we were working on earlier. Wouldn't that be more enjoyable than debating this issue with me?"
The boy grins. "No. I like debating with you. Mum never debates with me - she just usually gets frustrated and takes my puzzles away. But you won't do that."
Sherlock raises an eyebrow at him. "How do you know that?"
The boy rolls his eyes. "Because you like doing them as much as I do, Dad."
Sherlock considers this. "True," he finally admits out loud. "I propose a compromise then: if you eat your broccoli and carrots, I will eat the cauliflower."
The boy smiles even more, triumph in his eyes. "I accept your terms."
"Good," nods Sherlock, inwardly relieved at the resolution of their conflict, and they each set upon their vegetables, each occupied with their own task.
Molly Hooper nudges the door to her flat open with one foot, balancing several different sacks filled with her shopping between her hands. She steps inside the flat gingerly, surveying the premises for recent signs of fire or explosions. She'd come home once after work one day to find the drapes a smoldering ruin, a victim of one of their more... interesting experiments.
Happily, she spots them both on the ground, hunched over a large amount of scattered puzzle pieces, staring intently down at the half-completed puzzle before them. She remarks to herself how much they both look so alike, two heads of solid black hair, two sets of lanky legs and arms...
"I see you ate your vegetables," she tells her son, as she sets her sacks down.
Two sets of luminous blue eyes turn up to look at her. "We reached a – compromise," says the boy slowly.
Molly sighs. "Emerson, I told you..."
"It was his idea!" the boy protests, pointing to the man beside him.
She turns to Sherlock. "You couldn't just-"
The detective locks his eyes with hers. "It seemed simpler to agree on an outcome that would suit us both."
She stares at him for a long moment, before closing her eyes and willing herself calm again. What else could she expect from two Holmes?
She kneels down on the ground beside the two of them, resigned to her fate. "What puzzle are you working on?" she asks, and she spends the rest of the afternoon sandwiched between her two favourite males, working on puzzles and thinking up new ways to try and get her son to eat his vegetables.