"I hate everything."
John rolled his eyes. "It's not that bad. Could be worse.
Sherlock was sitting on the floor with his back to the couch. Rosie was sitting on the couch just above him, braiding the detective's hair. John stifled a laugh. Sherlock glared. "Just get it over with." He sighed, waving his hand up and down.
John laughed. He hadn't laughed like that in years. "It's your fault for growing it out." He said pointing at Sherlock's hair. It had almost reached his shoulders now.
Sherlock scoffed. "I was much to busy before this whole pandemic and now I can't go to the barber even if I wanted to."
"You could let me do it," John said.
Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "I don't trust you with my hair."
John mocked offence. "Oh, so you'll trust me with your life but not your hair."
"In my defence I value it more then I do cigarettes," Sherlock growled.
John rolled his eyes and walked into the kitchen. "Tea?" He called.
"Ye - OW." Sherlock cried, flinching at Rosie tugged at his hair.
John peaked back into the living room just to make sure that Rosie hadn't ripped his hair out. A few minutes later John walked out of the kitchen only to nearly drop the tray at the sight. Rosie has finished the braids and now Sherlock had two curly braids. Curls stuck out in odd places and they weren't even but it still looked adorable. Sherlock was blushing as John stared. "Pretty." Rosie cried, smiling, clearly proud of her work.
"Yeah," John breathed, "pretty."
His eyes were full of wonder as he gazed at his flatmate. Sure he had known how beautiful Sherlock was but this was different. Sherlock had let Rosie mess with his hair, something even John wasn't allowed to touch, just to make her happy. John snapped out of the trance to give Sherlock a lopsided grin. Sherlock's face had gone a deep red by now. "John?" He squeaked.
John set Sherlock's cup of tea beside him and turned to Rosie. He picked her up and spun her. "Oh, you did such a good job!" He held her in his arms to that she was able to look at the detective on the ground.
Rosie smiled. "Anne!" She cried.
John looked at her, his face scrunching up and an eyebrow-raising. Sherlock coughed. "I was reading Anne of Green Gables to her and she wanted to give me braids like her."
John smiled. He set Rosie down. "Why don't you go get the book? It's almost bedtime Sherlock can read it." He turned to the detective. "I want to hear this."
Rosie scurried off to her room. John turned to Sherlock. "How high up did you put the book?"
"Top shelf, should take her six or seven minutes to work it out. Three if she notices the ladder."
"Good," John said and basically tackled Sherlock. He peppered his face with kisses. Sherlock relaxed in his arms. The two had started dating five months ago. The day Rosie decided she needed her own room. The two had a heated argument that ended with Sherlock against the wall and John deciding they would just share a room. Not that Sherlock was complaining. "You're such a good parent," John whispered.
"Thank you."
John pulled away looking Sherlock in the eye. "I mean it. Now am I allowed to touch your hair?"
"I really wouldn't recomme - shit." Sherlock moaned.
John blinked. A grin formed on his face. "Oh is that why I want allowed to touch it?"
Sherlock covered his face. "It's embarrassing." He whimpered.
"Well, I think it's adorable." He paused. "And hot."
Sherlock giggled. A thump on the stairs alerted them of Rosie's presences. Rosie knew about them but they didn't really want her walking in on them snogging. The door flew open. Rosie stood in the doorway waving the book. She pointed at John. "Get off so father can read."
John smiled. "Yes ma'am." He said and rolled off of Sherlock.
An hour later John was holding Rosie as she snores softly. Sherlock's head was on Johns's shoulder and the book was loosely hanging out of Sherlock's hands. John smiled at his family. The quarantine might have been driving them all a little batty but they were strong enough to get through it.