Milestones - Benedict Cumberbatch (Daddybatch Fluff!)

Growing fast -- 3 months

So, about a year ago I started writing a collection of one-shots based on characters from the Benedict fanfic I was writing at the time, to illustrate a baby's developmental stages as they grow up. In theory it was a way I could combine writing and revision. They're short, and plotless - purely to illustrate developmental milestones. Now I'm going over the topic for finals, I decided to have a look back at them and publish this one to see what you think...

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3 months

"Blimey, you're becoming quite a lump, aren't you? Did you have a lovely nap?"

Eloise gurgled happily in response to her Uncle James, staring attentively at his face as he picked her up out of her crib.

Benedict chuckled. "I don't know what Milly's slipping into her milk but she's growing so fast!"

"We were amazed at how quickly Alex grew in his first few months, but I guess that's what babies do!" James laughed, perching the baby on his hip as he leant against the kitchen counter next to his brother-in-law. Quite alert, Eloise looked around the room, her head movements a little wobbly but stable. Her eyes tracked Benedict's bottle of beer as he raised it to his mouth and took a swig. She seemed mesmerised by it, and flung an arm in the direction of the green bottle as he placed it back on the table.

"Oh, no no my love. Too early for you to be drinking Daddy's beer."

Eloise waved both arms and let out an excited yelp. Benedict squatted down to face his daughter at her eye level, and the baby fixed her gaze on her father. A delighted smile lit up her face.

"Beer is not for babies," he said firmly, stroking her cheek and grinning back at her. "It's for grown-ups. And when you are a grown-up, you can have some. Although the later the better, so far as I'm concerned. Eighteen is far too young. You'll be lucky if I let you leave the house at that age."

She gurgled again and flailed her chubby arms toward him. "Oh, come on then." Ben relented and took her from James.

"She's got you wrapped around her little finger," her uncle remarked teasingly, popping open a beer of his own.

Ben smiled ruefully. "From the moment I knew she existed."

"Boys, are you coming outside?" the sound of Milly's voice echoed through the doors from the garden.

"Sure, we'll be out in a minute." Ben called back, looking around for the baby's floppy white sunhat. He gave her a quick sniff. "And mummy has already put suncream on you, hasn't she? Because we don't want you cooking to a pink little crisp..." he blew an affectionate raspberry on her cheek, causing her to yelp with glee.

They traipsed out to the garden where the women were relaxing in the sun with their own drinks. Milly beamed up at Ben, thrilled with how quickly he'd gotten to grips with things like remembering Eloise's hat. Eloise was less thrilled and was fussing at the fabric on her head, her hands haphazardly trying to remove this unwanted affliction.

"Stop it, you." Ben comforted, bundling her up in his arms so she couldn't wriggle as much, and she calmed down, shoving a hand in her mouth and peering around at the roof terrace garden as if she'd been dropped on Mars.

"Darling, since you don't trust me with the BBQ, would you care to get the meat started? It's in the kitchen; we've sorted everything else."

"It's not that I don't trust you..." Ben said, quite seriously, handing the baby to his wife. "It's just that cooking with fire is an instinctive caveman activity. It's our destiny."

Milly and Lauren - James' wife - shared an amused glance, with just a hint of an eye roll.

"The wooly mammoth steaks are in the bottom drawer of the fridge." Milly called teasingly as the boys turned back to the kitchen to forage. She turned her attention to Eloise, who was still not impressed with her sunhat.

"Now little madam, the hat stays on, thank you. If nothing else, it's bright enough out here without your hair blinding us as well."

"I heard that!" Benedict's indignant voice came from the kitchen. The fact that Eloise had inherited an even more vibrant version of her father's auburn hair was a playful bone of contention between the couple.

Milly placed her daughter on her tummy on the patchwork blanket that was spread across a patch of shade on the grass. Eloise much preferred to be in somebody's arms, ideally Daddy's, and her little face scrunched in protest. She looked on the verge of tears, but settled for grunting her displeasure and quickly lifting her head to look around. By the time she'd wriggled her arms forward to prop herself up, curiosity had got the better of her and she kicked her feet experimentally against the blanket.