Sherlock notices that abbreviation, by the way--notices how she means it as a private joke and not as some misguided term of endearment--and promptly decides he's going to get his revenge on all of them by giving Rosie a violin when she turns three. Granted, if she turns out to be a musical genius and not just a toddler with a string instrument then it'll just make him the favorite godparent (he hopes), so whatever the inevitable outcome, he wins.
He hangs his coat and scarf on the back of the door, the way he would if he were at home, and after he wheels his suitcase over to the threshold of his room he heads back over to settle in next to her.
"So I see. I'd have brought you a souvenir, Rosamund," he chided, "but I know you're still hazy on object permanence, so instead I'll read you something later. Treasure Island, maybe. You'll like that one."
His gaze flicks upwards to catch Molly's, and in the same moment he realizes three things: he's just been talking to an infant like she can understand him; he's done it in front of someone other than John (or Mary) for the first time; and Molly isn't going to say anything barbed about it.
no subject
He hangs his coat and scarf on the back of the door, the way he would if he were at home, and after he wheels his suitcase over to the threshold of his room he heads back over to settle in next to her.
"So I see. I'd have brought you a souvenir, Rosamund," he chided, "but I know you're still hazy on object permanence, so instead I'll read you something later. Treasure Island, maybe. You'll like that one."
His gaze flicks upwards to catch Molly's, and in the same moment he realizes three things: he's just been talking to an infant like she can understand him; he's done it in front of someone other than John (or Mary) for the first time; and Molly isn't going to say anything barbed about it.