Crying Baby Watson

Untitled Story Part

"John! The baby!"
After forty-three minutes of trying to ignore the child's manic crying to concentrate on his case, Sherlock gave up. He always prided himself on being able to separate completely from reality while he was in his mind palace, never disturbed by any noise or action that went on around him. For some strange reason, the never-ending wailing of John's child had managed to become a rather unpleasant exception.
Opening his left eye to check whether John had been in the kitchen or coming down from his bedroom to care for the little Watson, Sherlock called again.
"John! The baby!"
He then took notice of the absence of his flatmate's coat from the railing. Ah, so John had left his weakling alone in the apartment while he went to buy sperfluous items like milk and groceries. That hardly qualified as something a 'responsible' adult would do, thought Sherlock, yet he had an uneasy feeling that John had assumed - or told him while he wasn't listening - that the only Consulting Detective in the world would be able to watch over the child during his absence.
He was tempted to simply ignore the baby until John finally arrived, which wouldn't be too long, taking an estimate of his departure time, yet he knew that if he couldn't concentrate in his mind palace, he might as well just fulfill his curiosity and see what the infant's problem was.
Hastily, Sherlock got up from the couch and walked towards the crib that now lay between the two armchairs. It hadn't been there when he last checked, so he assumed that John had moved it so his little girl could be under the watching eye of the detective. So far, said decision had just managed to get Sherlock angry towards the child for interrupting his thought process, but at least he knew himself capable of resuming the task where he had left off when the baby was finally quieted.
Clutching the rails, Sherlock lowered his face until it was mere inches from the crying girl, and he tried to analyse her to determine her discomfort. He ruled out any injuries - the child hadn't moved from her laying position in at least an hour, and he also discarded any nappy-related issues, as his acute sense of smell confirmed. Eliminating a number of alternative possibilities, which included hunger, cold and realising that the next generation was even stupider than the current one (this notion was, for Sherlock, crying-worthy), the detective concluded that his subject was missing her papa.
Pleased with his quick diagnosis, Sherlock then proceeded to search in his ever-growing knowledge about babies, looking for the most effective methods on how to shut her up. Opposite to what John thought, Sherlock did know a lot about newborns, having taken a number of days off cases to research the matter through studies and the patient observation of other's spawn, but he chose to hide his findings from his flatmate, lest he think that the detective was becoming soft.
Recalling a particularly prominent technique which involved rocking the baby back and forth in his arms, Sherlock carefully wrapped his hands around the bundle of tears, pressing it softly to his chest, for he had also found that listening to a beating heart could calm infants down.
He began, very slowly, to move the baby steadily with his arms and shoulders, almost waltzing around the room as he did so. He bent his neck down slightly, analysing the results of his methods, only to disappoint himself seeing that, although the child had quieted down a bit, he was not being as successful as he had expected.
He then thought about a possible course of action, choosing to soothe the baby down with some calm music that he could humm, as had been advised by numerous studies. Knowing no classical music but the one he had composed himself, Sherlock proceeded to to interpret John and Mary's Waltz, rocking the baby faster and closer to his chest.
After repeating the piece only twice, he found that Lily Watson now lay completely asleep in his arms, with the faintest hint of a smile on her face.
Feeling proud about his accomplishment, he returned her carefully to her crib, and set himself back on the sofa, resuming his work on the open case.
John returned from his shopping less than ten minutes later, yet he could never have the heart to tell his best friend that he had heard everything though the one-way baby monitor that he had taken with him in his outing.