Chapter Text
A fi'n tyfu tatws
Ti'n neud fi'n hapus
Byw hefo'n gilydd
Mewn tŷ ar y mynydd
Dim ond fi, a thi
I'm growing potatoes
You're making me happy
Living together
In a house on the mountain
Only me, and you
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'John'
Sherlock paused, waiting for his partner to look up from finishing the crossword clue he was doing. When John finally looked up, he continued,
'I've been thinking about retirement.' He stimmed nervously in his lap.
John's eyebrow raised slightly in bewilderment.
'We're in our forties, Sherlock'
'Gertrude's nearly sixty' he shot back. The 'and I won't work without him' was left unsaid.
John rolled his eyes and settled himself further into his chair, moving the Union Jack pillow out of the way.
'You're all old as fu-' piped a small voice from the corner.
'Language, Rosie' John called lazily.
The small girl looked up from where she was sitting at the coffee table doing her maths homework, her arms crossed, 'that's not fair, you both swear, so does Uncle Greg and Aunty Molly and Uncle Mycroft. Aunt Irene does too, Papa, I see your texts. Come to think of it, the only person I see often who doesn't swear is Nanny Hudson, but considering the videos I wouldn't be surprised if she actually does occasionally. '
Sherlock tipped his head back in exasperation before looking up to see John's 'you fucked up, now sort it out before your toothbrush gets replaced by a twig for two weeks' face.
He turned to better see his daughter before saying, 'a few things out of that, Watson. One, you are not to use mine or your Dad's phone under any circumstances.' Seeing his daughter's mouth open in protest, he continued, 'even if yours is upstairs. Two, your Dad and I will be putting a parental lock on your youtube, no complaints. Three, you are not to swear under any circumstances, even if the adults do. You know I don't like saying this but, how would it look on your Dad if he went to a parent's evening and heard that you'd been swearing in school?'
Rosie turned her bright blue eyes on Sherlock, a look of mock horror on her young face, 'Papa, you insult me! How could you ever think that I'd make Dad face such false allegations?' Her voice went back to normal as she thought out loud, 'Anyway, I don't actually swear in school.' She turned her head back towards her schoolwork, 'gymaint.'
John turned to look at Sherlock with a questioning look on his face, this was one of the downsides of teaching Watson languages John didn't know. He picked up his phone that was sitting on the arm of his chair and texted the translation of what their daughter had said - 'that much'. John picked up his phone and Sherlock saw the roll of his eyes that meant he'd seen it. He also knew that Watson had been watching this as he heard her huff of 'c'est pas juste'.
'I heard that, Rosie, and life's not fair' said John with the John Watson Patented 'This Is Not Finished' glare on his face. 'Anyway,' he continued, 'I believe we were having a conversation about retirement.'
Sherlock quickly sat up straighter on his chair and recollected his thoughts that had been thrown off by his daughter's interruption.
'Yes, so I was thinking about what we'd do after Guillaume had retired, because I'm not working with whatever imbecile replaces him.' John rolled his eyes. 'How'd you feel about moving to the country?'
Sherlock saw his partner's eyebrow move further up his forehead in an expression of 'what the fuck did I just hear'.
'Why the country and where?' was what actually came from John's mouth.
Sherlock shifted in his chair to better see John, 'I have a house in Sussex, it's quiet, it has large enough grounds, and it has beehives.'
He heard a mutter of 'public school posh boy' come from the direction of the coffee table and called out to Watson, 'need I remind you, young lady, that you go to a very nice school and are going to an even nicer secondary school next year. I would suggest you keep quiet about 'public schools' if I were you.'
'At least I'm not going to Harrow' she called back, a note of disgust in her voice.
John stood up quickly and walked to stand over his daughter, 'and you have now crossed a line, Rosie' he said, his voice calm and low.
Seeing Watson confused about what line she'd crossed while sitting perfectly still, Sherlock mouthed 'idiom' at her to save her from getting into further trouble.
'I want you to apologise to your Papa and then take your homework upstairs' continued John, 'I want your maths complete by the time I've finished this conversation with your Papa in twenty minutes'
Watson started gathering up her stuff and muttered a 'sorry Papa' before running out the living room, upstairs and into her room, slamming the door.
John crossed the room again towards Sherlock, a look of concern on his face, 'you ok?' he asked.
It was only then that Sherlock realised he was digging his fingernails into his legs, and he slowly released the tension,
'Yes, I just didn't expect it to come up like that.'
He looked up at the ceiling, as although he was sure Watson was, in fact, doing her maths homework, he was also certain she was also destroying her room in the process.
'You'll have to tell her at some point, you know' John helpfully pointed out.
Sherlock rolled his eyes, 'surely your intelligence is above that required to know that I know that, John. I will tell Watson in due course.'
'And when will that be, O Oracle?'
'Don't be sarcastic, it doesn't suit you' sniffed Sherlock, 'and I'll tell her after she's stopped destroying her room.'
'She's stopped WHAT,' shouted John.
'Don't worry, she doesn't hurt herself and she doesn't make any mess she can't clean up herself.'
'Prat'
Sherlock shifted in his chair and looked at John with an expression that was a cross between amusement and annoyance, 'I thought we agreed that we wouldn't insult our daughter?'
'Shut up' came the reply.
There was silence for a few moments, then John said, 'I'm pretty sure she's counting up there, so we have approximately seventeen minutes to discuss your plans for our retirement.'