Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

John wakes suddenly from his dream. It's the usual one. Not about Afghanistan or getting shot. No, because since he's being seeing Ella, his therapist, those don't occur often.

This one is about a man; his flatmate, Sherlock Holmes. It's a mystery as to why John dreams about him every night, when said flatmate is only downstairs, but he does. It should probably worry John; it's the kind of thing he'd tell Sherlock was 'not good'. But no matter how John tries, he can't stop dreaming of him. The dreams are not very sexual. At least, he doesn't think they are but still, dreaming about your male flatmate when you're not gay, seems a little, well, not not gay.

He should probably talk to Sherlock about it, yeah, tomorrow they'll talk about it.

x..x

John wakes early the next morning, busying himself with making a brew as he hears the detective leaving his room to take a shower; and John purposely tries to ignore the image that pops into his mind of his attractive flatmate naked and wet. He snatches his brew off the counter and makes his way to the living room, sitting down and trying to read the paper that, no doubt, Mrs Hudson dropped off this morning when she restocked their kitchen with food instead of body parts.

Fifteen minutes later, Sherlock enters the living room dressed in one of his usual suits and John looks up to see him fluffing the ink-black curls that the doctor just wants to run his fingers through.

‘Knock it off, Watson. Stop fantasising about the man while he’s stood right there.’

John groans out loud and Sherlock’s head snaps around to look at the doctor; the sound causing John to wince in sympathy.

“Is everything alright, John?”

“Sherlock. Well, actually, no, I need to talk to you. And it's a … delicate issue.” John replies awkwardly, shifting uncomfortably in his chair.

Sherlock drops down onto the couch and pulls his laptop onto his lap, tapping away furiously for a few minutes as John’s words hang in the air. John waits nervously for Sherlock to either respond or ignore him entirely and as the silence goes on he wonders if Sherlock will actually just ignore him,

“Well, go on.” Sherlock replies impatiently, not looking up from his laptop.

“Well, you see, I've been … having dreams, about you.” John coughs awkwardly.

Sherlock’s head snaps up to look at John curiously and the older man suddenly gets the distinct feeling of being a microbe under a telescope. He swallow harshly, his mouth feeling dry and he resists the urge to down the rest of his tea. He holds the eye contact with Sherlock, refusing to look away like an embarrassed school boy under the detective’s penetrative gaze.

“Really?” Sherlock asks, his lips quirking up into a smile.

“Yes, and God, don't look at me like that, please.” John replies, looking down as his cheeks flush pink.

“What kind of dreams, John?”

Sherlock practically purrs the words, and John can't suppress the shiver that runs down his spine at the tone of Sherlock's voice. He takes a deep breath and looks back up at the younger man.

“Well, they're not sexual. At least, I don't think they are. But dreaming about you, when you're my flatmate and friend, well, doesn't that bother you?”

“Not in the slightest, John.” Sherlock replies matter-of-factly with a smile.

“What?” John splutters, his eyes going wide.

“Well, you’re a single man and men have needs. It makes perfect sense.” Sherlock replies dismissively. “And if we're being honest, then, well, I … have dreams about you too.” He adds with a whisper, looking back down at his laptop.

“Really?”

Suddenly intrigued rather than disturbed by the admission, John finds himself sitting forward in his chair to listen more intently to what Sherlock has to say.

“Yes. In fact, I was meaning to tell you. John, you … you distract me, immensely. It's annoying but … not completely unpleasant.” Sherlock replies, standing up and walking over to John.

Sensing that he’s made an error with his confession, John sits back nervously in his chair as Sherlock walks gracefully towards him and steps in between John’s open legs. The younger man reaches out to brush his fingers delicately down cheek and John’s breath catches in his throat as he tries to breathe normally.

“Sherlock, we … we can't do this.” John stutters, as Sherlock gracefully climbs into his lap.

“Come on, John. You know you want to. I can see it in the way you look at me.” Sherlock purrs in John's ear, resting his hands on his friend's shoulders.

“Sherlock. Don't do this. I … we're friends.” John stammers, his breath coming in short gasps as Sherlock starts licking his ear.

“You want this, John. Why deny it? No one believes you're not gay. I've been told you've been staring at my arse a lot. What do you want to do to me, John?”

“Oh God.” John moans, resting his hands on Sherlock's hips.

Sherlock chuckles softly, his breath ghosting John's ear and causing the older man to shiver. He presses closer to his flatmate and runs his hands down John’s chest as the older man strokes Sherlock’s hip bones. Sherlock shifts his hips slightly and rubs against John, causing the older man to gasp.

“I … I want to … Can I kiss you?” John asks in a moan, his hands now gripping Sherlock's hips.

“Of course.” Sherlock smiles, nudging his lips against John's.

John practically whines into Sherlock's mouth, wrapping his arms around the younger man’s slim frame as Sherlock continues to shift in his lap and grasp at John’s hair.

“Let's move this somewhere else.” Sherlock grins breathlessly after a few moments.

He climbs gracefully off John's lap and holds his hand out for John, pulling him out of his chair. As they stand up, John finds Sherlock's lips again and soon the kiss turns passionate; Sherlock grasping John and tugging him towards the bedroom. They manage to navigate their way safely into Sherlock’s bedroom without breaking apart until John pulls back to look at his flushed and mussed flatmate,

“You're the most beautiful creature I've ever seen, Sherlock.” John sighs happily, walking Sherlock back towards his bed.

“John.” Sherlock sighs, cupping John's face gently.

“I'm so glad I met you. You saved my life.” John replies honestly, leaning in to kiss Sherlock again.

“Me too.”

Chapter Text

“I need your help, John.” Sherlock announces, looking up at John.

“Alright, what can I do?” John asks with a smile, sitting down in his chair.

“Well, would you kill for someone you love?”

“Of course I would. I'd never let anyone hurt the people I love.” John replies confidently.

“Thank you.”

“Alright, so what was that about?”

“This latest case. A woman murdered her husband to protect her daughter.”

“Wait, what happened to her daughter?”

“The bruises on the little girl's body suggest she was beaten repeatedly, over a course of four years.”

“How … how old is she?” John stammers, trying not to get angry.

“Seven.” Sherlock replies, not bothering to look up.

After a few minutes of silence, Sherlock looks over at John in concern. A quick observation tells Sherlock that John is distressed and angry at this news, despite not knowing the child. John becomes emotionally invested in cases with children, Sherlock deduces as he watches the doctor clench and unclench his fits as he takes measured breaths.

“Are you alright, John?”

“Mm, yeah, I'm fine.” John replies distractedly, taking deep breaths.

“Cases involving children always get you upset. Is there anything I can do? Do you want to sit this one out?” Sherlock asks gently, walking over to John.

“No. No, I wanna stop this woman getting locked up for protecting her daughter.” John says with a slight edge to his voice, looking up at Sherlock.

“Alright.” Sherlock nods, resting his hand on John's shoulder before walking back to the desk.

“What can we do?”

“We can stop her getting thrown into prison for protecting her daughter.” Sherlock replies, tapping away on his keyboard.

x..x

In the end, Sherlock and John manage to stop the mother from being locked up. As it turns out, it wasn't just a crime of passion, the mother was defending herself and her daughter. She hit him with a small stone statue a little harder than intended and killed him.

Thankfully, the prosecution found the mother innocent of murder and, taking into account the evidence of abuse to her and her daughter, let the woman go. It caused quite an uproar with the press that she didn't get a sentence but all in all, John was glad she wasn't sent to prison.

“The case turned out quite well, don't you think, John?” Sherlock beams, sitting down on the couch.

“Yeah, it did.” John smiles back, truly elated that the mother and daughter will have a better life now.

“I'm surprised that the mother didn't get any jail time but really, I'm very glad. She didn't deserve to go to prison when there was a man like that around.”

John looks up in surprise and smiles softly.

“What?”

“Just you. Being all human and caring about a family for once.”

“Yes, well. I am capable of being sympathetic at times, John.”

“I know, love. It's just nice to see it.” John replies, walking over and sitting down next to Sherlock.

“I know it's unusual, John. But please, try not to sound so surprised.”

“Shut up.” John grins, leaning over to kiss Sherlock's cheek. “Anyway, I'm going to bed, love. I'll see you in the morning.”

“Goodnight, John.”

“Goodnight, Sherlock.”

x..x

Two days pass and another case comes in, taking up three weeks of John and Sherlock's life. The two men settle into a routine of solving crimes; locking up murderers, rapists, drug dealers etc.

As two months come and go, John feels more alive than he has in a long time and it's all thanks to Sherlock.

“You love this, don't you?” Sherlock asks with a smirk, looking over the table at John.

“Would I sound mad if I said yes?” John grins, sipping his tea.

“Completely.”

“Then yeah, I do.” John chuckles, causing Sherlock to laugh along with him.

“I never thought there'd be any one I could share this with. And then a short, thrill-seeking army doctor walked into my life.” Sherlock smirks at John.

“Oi, cheeky shit.” John smirks back, kicking Sherlock under the table.

Sherlock laughs manically, picking up his cup and heading to the kitchen.

“Being short has it's advantages.” He replies as he returns, “Mainly being that you make me look taller.” He grins.

“Any more of that and I get Lestrade to give you some truly boring cases.”

“John.” Sherlock whines, pouting at his friend.

“Then behave.” John warns, standing up and disappearing to the bathroom.

Just as he turns on the shower, the doorbell rings loudly and John sighs loudly. 

“Sherlock, get the door! I'm having a shower.”

After a few minutes of silence, John sighs and walks out of the bathroom, noticing that Sherlock has miraculously disappeared right when they have a client.

“Never mind. I'll get it. Bloody Sherlock Holmes, can't even answer a door.”

John mutters as he makes his way downstairs and opens the door.

“John Watson?” A man asks, looking at John with a wide smile.

“Yeah, that's me. Who are you?” John asks, looking at the stranger with a curious look.

“Ah, good. We need to talk.”

Chapter Text

John just stares at the stranger on his doorstep as the man continues to smile at him and the older man gets an uneasy feeling about him. Despite the uneasy, John can’t help the thought crossing his mind that the man has kind eyes, eyes that are also too old for such a young man. He knows those eyes, he’s seen them in every veteran who returned home from war but didn’t quite come back and worst of all, he’s seen them staring back at him in the mirror everyday since he returned to London.

“Sorry, what's this about?” John asks unsurely, blocking the man's entry.

“Trust me, I'm a doctor.” The man replies with a smile.

“Yeah, so am I. What are you a doctor of, exactly?”

“I'm the doctor.”

“Right. Of what?”

“John, you don't mind if I call you John do you? Shall we take this inside? Tea?” The man asks in random sentences.

The urge to say no is overwhelming but something else in John tells him to allow the stranger to come in and talk. He doesn’t like the feeling that something is wrong and even more dislikes that he’s not sure what exactly could be wrong.

“Right.” John repeats with a furrow of his brow, stepping aside to let the strange man in.

The man steps inside with a big grin, clearly oblivious to John's confusion and stands waiting for John to shut the door.

“Sherlock. Is this one of your friends? He's mad enough to be one of them.” John calls up to his flatmate as he walks up the stairs.

Again that feeling of unease settles over John as he doubts that this is just one of Sherlock’s associates; he’s definitely not from the homeless network, he’s too well-dressed and clean to be one of the strung out drug addicts Sherlock knows.

“Who's Sherlock?” The man asks, looking at John curiously.

“My flatmate. Anyway, just go through. I'll just turn the shower off.”

The man nods in reply, walking into the living room and sitting down on the couch. He looks around the room at every little detail, sighing softly to himself as he braces himself for what he has to do next and quickly plasters on a friendly smile.

“Sorry, what was your name?” John asks as he enters the room.

“The Doctor.” The man replies, smiling at John.

“Doctor what?” John asks, looking over at the man.

“Just The Doctor.”

“Right. So, what's this about?” John repeats, walking into the kitchen. “Sherlock, I think we have a client. Come out here.”

Unfortunately, apparently Sherlock isn't in the mood to come out of his room right now so John just rolls his eyes and heads into the kitchen to make two cups of tea. He tries to tell himself that he’s being paranoid and that everything is fine but the voice in his head; that sounds so much like Sherlock, tells him that he needs to observe and focus.

“Sorry, I didn't know if you took sugar or milk so I'll just get them for you.”

“I think you should sit down, John.”

“Why?”

“Your flatmate Sherlock, where is he?” The Doctor asks, sitting forward on the couch.

“Probably sulking in his room.” John chuckles tightly, forcing a smile at the Doctor.

“John, I need to tell you something and you're not going to like it.”

“Go on.”

“Does it look real to you? Does it seem real?” The Doctor asks carefully, looking at John sympathetically.

John gives a puzzled look before looking around at his flat and then back at the Doctor. Sherlock’s voice begins to shout loudly in his head that he’s missing something and that he needs to focus. John tries to ignore it but he sees in the Doctor’s expression when the stranger realises that John is starting to doubt everything he knows.

“You dreamed it for yourself because the truth was too terrible.”

“No.”

“I'm sorry, John. I really am. But none of this is real. It's all in your mind and I was asked to visit you.”

“No. It’s not. It’s ... real.” John cries, rapidly looking around the room and wishing Sherlock would just appear already. “You ... you were asked to visit me? Why?”

“Well, that's where it gets a bit complicated. Just listen to me and I'll explain everything. First of all, I'm not really here either, I'm actually inside your mind ...”

“Did someone put you up to this?” John scoffs brokenly, rubbing his eyes roughly.

“John, listen to me. Why would a man you've never met be here in your living room? Why would you let a man you've never met into your flat?”

“Because I thought you were a client.” John snaps, glaring at the Doctor.

“No, you didn't. You've known something was wrong from the start. But you couldn't quite figure out what, could you? I was sent to help you. Because you need to wake up.”

“Wake up? I am awake!”

“No, you're not. John, do you remember the accident?”

“What accident? If you're talking about Afghanistan then it's not what I'd call an accident.”

John knows he’s getting hysterical and Ella would probably tell him he needs to calm down, to just breathe through it and process what he’s feeling but John can’t breathe or focus. He suddenly feels adrift, like this stranger just walked into his home and turned his whole world upside down. He feels himself getting light headed as his vision begins to blur with tears that he can’t seem to keep at bay and he begins to pace the room unsteadily.

“John, you were in a car accident. You were working a case with Sherlock when a car sped down the road and hit you.”

“What is this crap? I'm fine! Look at me.”

“Have you looked in a mirror recently, John?”

“Well, no but I don't know why that matters.”

“Look, John. Just look.”

John stands up and looks in the living room mirror, seeing the cut across his forehead and the fading bruises covering his face. His jaw looks like it may have been broken at some point if the colouring of the bruising is anything to go by. He gasps in horror and turns back to the Doctor.

“Who sent you? And why? You said someone sent you. Who was it?” John asks shakily, looking down at his hands.

“Sherlock's brother, Mycroft.”

“Why?” John asks in shock, not sure if he really wants to know.

“You've been in a coma for nearly two years. The last case you worked, you were tracking three men who killed a man. The drug dealer involved was going at 60mph when he hit you, you ran in front of the car to save Sherlock.”

“Two years?”

“John.” The Doctor starts, his tone gentle.

“How … how did I … what's going on?” John asks in a broken voice.

“Due to your PTSD and the speed at which the car hit you, the doctors don't think you'll survive. They want to take you off life-support. You have to wake up. There's no other way, John.” The Doctor replies carefully, stepping away from the army doctor slowly.

“I don't know if I can.” John chokes, tears starting to from in his eyes.

“Yes, you can, John. You have to do it for Sherlock. If you truly love him then you will try.” The Doctor replies, grabbing John by his arms and shaking him slightly.

“Okay. For Sherlock, I'll try.”

The Doctor smiles softly, “Goodbye, John. I'll see you on the other side.”

And just like that, the Doctor disappears and leaves the broken army doctor alone.

Chapter Text

One Year, Eight Months And Three Weeks Earlier

Sherlock paces the floor impatiently, running through the current case details in his mind while he waits for his flatmate to get a move on. John has spent precisely nine minutes and thirty-seven seconds in the shower and Sherlock can’t understand why it’s taking the older man so long to clean himself.

The ex-army doctor is always like this, taking too damn long. Sherlock thinks, wondering whether he should just bang on John's bedroom door.

He hears when John turns the shower off and moves back into his bedroom, the older man searching through his chest of drawers for some clothes. It’s now been exactly ten minutes and seven seconds and Sherlock begins pacing the landing again.

“John, hurry up. We have a case.” Sherlock calls impatiently, all pent up excitement and furious impatience.

The bedroom door opens suddenly and John gestures for Sherlock to come in as he scrubs furiously at his damp hair, heading back over to his chest of drawers to grab socks.

“Bloody hell, I was in the shower, Sherlock. Unless you want me to go out naked, I need a least some time to get dry and dressed.” John replies, throwing the towel in the wash basket as he passes by the en suite.

“As much as that would make the crime scene much more interesting, I don't think Lestrade would agree to such a state of undress.”

The younger man stands awkwardly by the door as John pulls his socks on before heading back into the bathroom to fix his hair. Sherlock rolls his eyes and sighs loudly; which John chooses to ignore and wonders who’s idea it was to move in with this bratty madman again. Once he’s satisfied it’s tidy, he walks back into the bedroom and sees Sherlock not so subtly trying not to deduce John’s bedroom habits as his eyes dart about the room.

“I was being sarcastic, Sherlock.” John mutters, grabbing his mobile and wallet off the bedside table.

“Just as I thought.” Sherlock grins, practically bouncing on the spot.

John continues to mutter about 'idiot detectives' and 'just wanting a peaceful shower' as he brushes past Sherlock to grab his shoes and coat. The younger man quickly follows him down the stairs and to the living room, listening to John muttering away.

“Sorry, John, I can't hear you due to your muttering.”

“Shut up, Sherlock.” John replies, shoving his shoes on and grabbing his coat.

“Finally.” Sherlock sighs loudly, grabbing his own coat and heading to the front door.

x..x

They travel in silence to the crime scene, the only noise coming from Sherlock's fingers tapping furiously over his phone keyboard as John watches the city pass by through the window. As they pull up at the kerb, the usual suspects are there; Donovan, Anderson, the rest of the forensics team and Lestrade. Sherlock dives out of the taxi, leaving John to pay the cabbie and to hurry to catch up to everybody. Sherlock ignores the former three and walks straight up to Lestrade, only looking back to check John is following and stopping as he gets closer to the Detective Inspector.

“This had better be more worthwhile than the last one, Lestrade. That one was so simple even a monkey could work it out … Oops, my mistake, a monkey did work it out.” Sherlock smiles, looking towards Anderson.

“Now listen, freak. You're invited to these crime scenes to assist Scotland Yard so do what you're told and assist.” Anderson replies, waving the detective in the direction of the crime scene.

“Assist? Please, I do ...”

“Just get inside, Sherlock.” Lestrade interrupts, grabbing the detective's arm and pushing him into the abandoned house.

John smirks at Lestrade and follows them into the building, snagging two pairs of gloves as he passes by the forensics tent. They make their way upstairs and into the front bedroom before John hands Sherlock a pair of gloves. Sherlock quickly pulls them on as he surveys the crime scene, immediately adding all the details into his mind palace.

“Everyone out. Lestrade, John, you can stay.” He announces loudly, shooing everyone else away with a wave of his hand,

Lestrade and John just roll their eyes and chuckle to themselves as the DI instructs everyone else to leave. The forensics team mutter their complaints about taking orders from Sherlock but leave the room and head back downstairs as Sherlock shuts the door behind them.

The crime scene looks just like a drug den; the dead body of a drug addict in the middle of the floor and an empty needle lying next to him but obviously, something isn't right, otherwise Lestrade wouldn't have called Sherlock and John in on this. John immediately checks over the body while Sherlock surveys the scene around him again, checking for discrepancies that he knows are there but missed while the room was full of Lestrade’s team.

“Blue lips and nails, signs of spasms before death, bruises on the wrists and asphyxiation. My diagnosis is heroin overdose. But I'm not entirely sure that it wasn't murder. What would you say, Sherlock?”

“Correct, John. Why do you think it was murder?” Sherlock asks, stooping down to look at the body.

“The bruises on the wrists, obviously. Someone held him down while another person injected him with enough heroin to kill him.”

“I'm impressed, John. I think you would use the term 'brilliant' about now. So, brilliant deduction, John.” Sherlock replies with a genuine pride.

“Alright, Sherlock. Bloody hell, no need to be patronising.” John sighs, looking up at the detective.

“I actually don't think he was, John. I can't believe I'm saying it but, I think that was genuine praise.” Lestrade replies, slightly stunned at Sherlock's open appraisal of someone else.

“Oh. Thank you, Sherlock.” John smiles softly, accepting Sherlock's hand to help him up.

“You’re also correct about asphyxiation but you missed one thing, it wasn’t heroin induced, this man was strangled.”

“Before or after death?” John asks curiously, looking back at the body and now seeing the distinct bruising under the shirt collar.

“Before. It would seem three men were involved.”

“Three? That's a lot of factors, Sherlock. Couldn't he have been strangled then held down as a precaution?”

“No. In fact, John, may I borrow you a second. Lestrade, you as well.”

“Alright, but why do you need me?” John asks carefully, suddenly worried about what Sherlock might need.

“I always need you, John.” Sherlock replies absent-mindedly before adding, “You're my thinking post, when I'm struggling to come to a conclusion you usually say something utterly irrelevant that leads me to the answer. Now, lay on the floor and pretend to be dead.”

“Right.” John sighs, finding it's easier to do as Sherlock says the first time.

John shifts away from the body and lies down, resting his hands on his chest as he waits for Sherlock’s next instruction. Sherlock directs Lestrade to stand by John’s head by way of pulling on his arm and the DI shrugs before following Sherlock's lead, walking round the younger man to stand over the doctor. Sherlock gives him a look and points down, causing the older man to sigh and crouch down by John’s head.

“Now, John, raise your arms above your head. Lestrade, grab his wrists.” Sherlock orders, kneeling down to straddle John's hips.

“Sherlock, I'm not sure I'm comfortable with this.” John replies, raising an eyebrow at Sherlock.

“Nonsense, John. You're in safe hands here.”

John sighs and drops his head heavily on the floor, not even bothering to argue about social conventions because he knows Sherlock doesn't have the slightest clue and probably doesn’t care anyway.

“Now, I'm going to strangle you, John. I need you to struggle.”

“Quick question. If you're strangling me and Lestrade’s holding my wrists, who's injecting me with heroin?” John asks, realising that it’s not a question he would have ever asked someone before he met Sherlock.

“No one. We're simply proving that two people held the victim down while another injected him. Do keep up, John.”

“Right.”

“I bet you never thought Sherlock would be strangling you, did you, John?” Lestrade jokes, smirking at his friend.

“I suppose it's only fair given how many times I've nearly strangled him.”

“When you two are finished.” Sherlock snaps, glaring first at Lestrade then John.

John and Lestrade both snap their mouths shut, smirking at each other as Sherlock mutters away to himself and shifts into a new position.

“Given the bruising, the second murderer was most likely leaning over the victim as he strangled him.” Sherlock says to himself, leaning over John and wrapping his hands around his throat.

John quickly realises the mistake he’s made by letting Sherlock but him in this position; the younger man straddling his hips and being this close causes a certain reaction that he’s only ever dreamt about. The doctor doesn’t miss the irony that there’s something oddly arousing about being held down and choked by the younger man and suddenly John’s inability to breathe has nothing to do with Sherlock's hands on his throat. It does however have everything to do with Sherlock being too close and his struggle to get free quickly stops being part of the act. Seemingly unaware of his internal battle, as well as his continued disregard for safety, Sherlock presses down too hard and the slight pleasure John feels from their intimate position is suddenly overrun by a sense of genuine panic as the doctor struggles to breathe from lack of oxygen.

“Sherlock.” John gasps, trying to break free from Lestrade’s hold.

“That's it, John. Just like that.” Sherlock replies, a little purr seeping into his voice.

Suddenly, John's worried he’s going to die of embarrassment as he tries to suppress a moan at how good those words sound being said by the man he’s been attracted to for months, so maybe dying of asphyxiation would probably be a better option at this point. Thankfully, Lestrade isn’t as unobservant as Sherlock claims him to be and he realises almost immediately that something is wrong with the doctor and calls out to Sherlock.

“Sherlock, I think you should stop. John doesn't look too good. Sherlock, seriously. Stop!” Lestrade yells, releasing John's wrists and sitting back.

As soon as John realises his hands are now free, he grabs Sherlock's hands and throws him off, gasping as oxygen returns to his lungs again. He can feel his heart beating fast in his ears and the tears blurring his vision as he tries to breathe slowly and deeply. Sherlock is sprawled on the wooden floor trying to process how exactly he got there and even checks himself for signs of impact, momentarily oblivious to the fact he just nearly killed his friend.

“John, you alright, mate? Still with us?” Lestrade asks carefully, immediately checking John's pulse. “Jesus Christ, Sherlock, you could have bloody killed him.”

Sherlock, now suddenly understanding the seriousness of the situation and the error he's made, quickly scrambles to John's side and grabs his face in both his hands to check him over.

“John, are you alright? Breathe, John. Breathe!” Sherlock growls, listening to his friend's ragged breathing. “Lestrade, call an ambulance.”

“'M fine.” John gasps hoarsely, sitting up as his breathing finally settles back to normal.

John still continues to breathe steadily in and out with practised ease; mainly to give himself a few more moments to settle his raising heart rate and the arousal that’s still bubbling just under the surface.

“Sherlock's right, John. I'm calling an ambulance.”

“Piss off, I'm fine. I've had worse. I was bloody shot for God's sake.” John scoffs, giving Lestrade a playful shove.

Lestrade eyes him warily but decides to trust the doctor’s judgement as he shoves his phone back into his pocket and stands up, walking back over to the body to check no evidence was contaminated.

“John, I'm sorry. I didn't … I'm sorry.” Sherlock whispers, letting go of John's face and sitting back.

John looks over at his friend; who seems genuinely upset at what he did to the doctor and the older man knows that while Sherlock can be careless at times, he never intentionally tries to hurt people unnecessarily.

“Sherlock. Sherlock. Look at me, please.” He says gently, reaching out and grabbing Sherlock's hand. “I'm fine.”

Sherlock looks up at John carefully, searching his face for any signs of pain before smiling nervously at the doctor. John squeezes his hand once and smiles when Sherlock squeezes back, glad that the younger man knows he is forgiven and that John is okay.

“Let's go find these guys.” John nods confidently, slowly getting himself to his feet.

“Are you sure about that, mate?” Lestrade asks anxiously, watching John warily.

“I'm fine, Greg. And not a word of this to anyone else. I just can't believe he managed to pin me. If anyone hears about that, I'll lose my reputation.” John laughs, brushing himself down.

“Be careful. Both of you.” Lestrade sighs, allowing John's self-diagnosis as a doctor.

“We will.” John smiles reassuringly, motioning Sherlock out the room.

They head past the Scotland Yard quickly and John's strangely thankful that no one questions their hasty exit. He takes a deep breath of air as they hit the street, standing still for a moment to enjoy the breeze and oxygen rushing to his head.

x..x

John and Sherlock have been sitting outside the drug den for about two hours with no sign of their murderers or the drug dealer who sold the drugs.

The doctor shivers violently, feeling like his hands and feet are popsicles while the detective looks just as cold as John, if not more.

“I think we should just go home, Sherlock. Any longer out here and we'll both get hypothermia. Come on.” John whispers, slowly standing up to stretch.

“John, wait.” Sherlock hisses, yanking John back down into their crouched position.

John winces at the pull on his left shoulder and glares at Sherlock, tempted to smack him across the head and deal with the consequences later.

“There, John. Look. Someone's heading out. Let's go.” Sherlock whispers, standing up slowly and walking onto the main street.

John stands up and follows the younger man, trying to look inconspicuous while keeping an eye on their subject.

“Quicker, John. We can't lose him.” Sherlock replies, running across the main road.

That's when John hears it; the speeding of a car which he's sure wasn't there before and with only one thought in his head he barrels across the road, screaming Sherlock's name as he shoves him out of the way of the car. Sherlock barely registers John's shout until it's followed by the sound of metal hitting bone and John hitting the floor with a crunch.

“John!” Sherlock screams, dropping to John's side as the car speeds away.

He pulls out his phone and immediately dials for an ambulance before calling Lestrade and giving him the license number of the car. They get John to the hospital quickly and operate on his injuries, forcing Sherlock to wait in the visitors room. The hours pass by in a blur until the doctor returns and tells Sherlock the news.

Due to John's medical history and the force of the impact, they've had to put him in a chemically induced coma. That's when it happens; that's when Sherlock's whole world stands still and he struggles to hold it together.

This is all his fault and now John is paying for it again.

Chapter Text

Every day after the accident, Sherlock sits by John's bedside and only moves to eat (very little) and to change clothes.

He never leaves the doctor's side for longer than an hour and has even refused to take cases until John recovers.

He just barely managed to solve the case which put them both here; the drug dealer who hit John with his car, but now even the dealer has a pretty black eye and broken nose for his time in a cell.

Sherlock doesn't even know how he avoided being arrested for assault, probably something to do with Mycroft and the circumstances surrounding the assault , as his older brother would probably say in his defense.

The detective looks at his doctor everyday, willing him to wake up today, but of course wherever John is in his head is a lot happier place than in this reality Sherlock has come to know.

He talks nonsense to John; telling him about the latest news, about what celeb has got fat or pregnant because he knows John likes knowing about all the current events and daft things like that.

Mrs Hudson comes to the hospital everyday; bringing him food and a flask of tea as she tries to coax him away from John's bedside; she still goes home as unsuccessful as the day before.

She talks nonsense too; tells Sherlock about Mrs Taylor down the street and about how Detective Inspector Lestrade is doing well with his current cases, solving them with a speed Sherlock used to possess.

Mycroft comes in and doesn't even try to coax Sherlock away, he just checks his chart and his vitals as though he knows what's going on but they both know it's just a front because Mycroft doesn't know what to say to help his little brother.

He stays for about an hour before silently excusing himself; not even bothering to tell Sherlock about some meeting or other, because what would be the point, he knows his brother wouldn't hear him even if he sat there talking for hours on end.

Sherlock knows he's slipping down a dangerous path; the path he took before John, when all there was was overwhelming noise in his head with nothing to do with. A dangerous path were he'd stick a needle in his arm just to quiet the ringing in his ears and the oncoming headaches that always followed.

He was so lost back then, even before John, he knew he was lost and alone, struggling to find away out of his hole and actually live in this world.

Then Lestrade took him under his wing and Sherlock felt needed and important, but still so very alone. When John entered his life, limping into Barts with a psychosomatic limp and an obvious military background, Sherlock felt as though it was Christmas. He saw the whole puzzle ready to be unravelled and solved

And how could he resist such an obvious looking yet extraordinary puzzle like Doctor John Watson, Captain of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers and honourably discharged with a hidden gun shot wound that had brought him here to the detective?

He'd worked so hard to unravel the mystery of John; one year, eight months and three weeks of trying to work out how the man beneath the woolly jumpers ticked and functioned.

And he is still a mystery to Sherlock even now, especially now, because where can John be in his head that is better than here with Sherlock?

Can he even hear Sherlock talking about all this nonsense? Can he even hear that Sherlock hasn't moved in days, weeks, months, a whole year?

Can he hear Mrs Hudson's endless prattling of mindless gossip? Or Mycroft's silence as he pretends to be of some support to his little brother?

Isn't it time to come back now? Time to come back to the real world and see Sherlock again? Is he even going to come back? What if he doesn't? Can't?

Sherlock has to admit that he's become a little dependent on John. Sherlock moans about how John should stop pestering him about doing menial things like eating and sleeping.

The young detective looks at his best friend now and wishes desperately that he'd chastise him for not eating properly and comment on the purple bags under his eyes, or about the fact that he's been wearing the same suit for three days and smells like most of the homeless people they consult with.

There's a knock on the door and that's the most unusual thing to happen since this unfortunate event, because nobody knocks before they enter this room.

The nurses just bustle in to check John's vitals and work around Sherlock's unmoving presence.

Mrs Hudson just walks in and starts prattling her mindless nonsense and Mycroft just seems to glide into the room like Casper the unwelcome ghost.

So who would knock on John's door before entering?

“Hello, I'm the Doctor. Sherlock, right?” The man asks with a smile, stepping into the room.

Sherlock ignores the stranger and looks back over at John, because obviously  this doctor isn't actually a doctor of anything, if his clothes are anything to go by. Unless he's some barmy as hell psychologist that Mycroft's hired to help Sherlock with what he's going through.

But Sherlock doesn't need help , he needs John. He needs his actual doctor back, not some idiot who thinks he knows Sherlock and can help him.

“Your brother asked for me.” The man continues to talk, standing by John's beside.

Sherlock scoffs in reply, rolling his eyes and muttering “obviously” under his breath.

“I can help him. I have a unique gift that might be able to help.” The man adds, trying to meet Sherlock's eyes.

“Help who?” Sherlock asks suspiciously, looking the strange man up and down.

“John. I can … well, I can get inside people's heads and read their thoughts. I might be able to talk to him and bring him back.”

“Who the hell are you?” Sherlock shouts, jumping up from his seat.

“I'm the Doctor. And I told you, your brother asked for me.” The Doctor replies calmly, raising his hands in defense.

“How can you possibly help him?”

“I can get into his mind. I … I'm an alien, a Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey. There's an organisation called UNIT, only the government know about it because they store anything extraterrestrial.”

Sherlock studies the man carefully, trying to work out the lie but he can't find it and maybe starts to think this man might be telling the truth.

“So you can access his mind and bring him back?” Sherlock asks carefully, looking hopeful.

“It's a little bit more complicated than that but yes, basically yes.” The Doctor replies, sitting down next to John's bedside.

“Alright. Do what you can.” Sherlock sighs, feeling like the most useless friend to John.

The Doctor smiles softly at the younger man, before leaning over John's still form and pressing his fingertips to the man's head.

Sherlock watches as the Doctor pulls a face but setting on a near expressionless mask as he finally finds a point in John's mind.

“John Watson? Ah, good. We need to talk.”

Chapter Text

Mycroft has watched his brother slowly slip away from reality for nearly two years. But when the doctors suggested to him that John should be taken off life support, that's when Mycroft saw his little brother's heart shatter into a thousand pieces.

That's why, as Sherlock's big brother, Mycroft has to fix this. He picks up his phone and searches for a number that doesn't technically exist, and why would it; they deal with alien artefacts and alien information, surely that's just all sci-fi nonsense.

But luckily for Mycroft, and Sherlock, such a thing does exist and is probably the only thing that can help bring John home.

“Hello, UNIT. My name is Mycroft Holmes, and I was wondering if you could find me … The Doctor?”

Mycroft spends the next half an hour being briefed on just exactly who the Doctor is and how to contact him and when that's finished, he immediately dials the number for the Doctor.

Mycroft explains to the Time Lord who he is and about his little brother's situation.

“What do you need exactly?”

Mycroft smiles before replying, “Well, I need a doctor, of course.”

“I'll be right there.”

And just as Mycroft puts the phone down, he feels a sort of gale force wind and a small blue phone box appears in the middle of his office.

The door opens and a man peeks his head out, “Hello.”

“The Doctor, I presume.” Mycroft replies, standing up and holding a hand out.

“Yes.” The Doctor grins, shaking the older Holmes' hand enthusiastically.

“Come with me, then, Doctor.”

Mycroft and The Doctor walk out of the office and climb into a government issued car.

“So you tell me again, you need me to go into the mind of a coma patient and bring him home?” The Doctor asks carefully, looking around at the lavish and most likely, expensive car.

“My brother seems to have fallen quite hard for Doctor John Watson and just a few short hours ago the doctors told him they would take the good Doctor off life-support.”

“Oh, so this is a love story. I love those.” The Doctor beams, much to the disapproval of Mycroft. “Sorry. Tell me, how did you get my number?”

“UNIT. Unified Intelligence ...”

“Yes, I know who they are.” The Doctor replies darkly and Mycroft finally gives the man a second look.

And what he sees, he's not sure he likes. Maybe this was a bad idea.

“Yes, well, they told me all about you and frankly I'm … trying to find a better word than desperate.” Mycroft says with disdain.

“Why lie about it? It's obvious that you are desperate. And what is wrong with wanting to help your little brother?”

“Oh, I'm sure Sherlock could give you a list.”

“Humans. You never say what you really feel.”

“Yes, well. We'll be there soon.” Mycroft mutters, turning to look out the window.

The Doctor hears him loud and clear and goes quiet, turning to look out of his own window.

The pair are silent for the rest of the journey and as the car pulls up outside the hospital, Mycroft climbs out the car and looks up at the building.

“Floor four. Room 221. Oh, and be patient with my brother, he's a man of logic. A time-travelling Doctor will not bode well with him” Mycroft informs the Doctor professionally.

“You're not coming up?” The Doctor asks in confusion.

“No. As I said, me and Sherlock have somewhat of a … complicated relationship. Goodbye, Doctor.”

And with that, Mycroft climbs back into the car and drives away. The Doctor rolls his eyes at the man, sighing as he walks into the hospital and searches for the lift.

It takes the Doctor five minutes to find Room 221 and he decides to knock before entering, waiting a suitable amount of time before walking in.

The young man sat by the bedside looks tired and worn and the Doctor's hearts break a little at the site.

Fragile. The Doctor thinks, watching the man study him carefully and critically.

“Hello, I'm the Doctor. Sherlock, right?” The Doctor asks with a smile.

The young man promptly ignores him and the Doctor should have suspected that given what Mycroft said to him.

Well, this is going to be interesting. The Doctor thinks before trying to talk to the young man again.

Careful, that's what Mycroft said.

Chapter Text

John had been pacing the floor for around twenty minutes. Well, pacing the floor in his mind because technically he isn't at Baker Street and he isn't actually pacing.

“Just wake up. That's all I have to do. Wake up. Wake up, how? Right, just breathe.” John mutters to himself, taking slow breaths and trying to focus.

After some more deep breaths, he closes his eyes and counts to ten, but when he opens them again, he's still in Baker Street and there's still no Sherlock.

“A little clue would have helped, Doctor!” John yells, after all, he isn't going to disturb anyone inside his own head.

“Right, I need to focus. Focus on something that matters. Focus.”

Then John hears it, a voice; the very recognisable voice of Sherlock Holmes calling his name.

“Something that matters? Well, that's easy. Sherlock. Focus on him. The sound of his voice. Those stupid cheekbones and the coat collar. The mess of curls that I just want to run my hands through … Whoa, easy there, Watson. One step at a time.”

John shakes his head and tries again, “Voice, cheekbones, coat collar, curls. Cases, adrenaline, stupidity, Angelo's.”

John chants these seemingly random things over and over, willing his mind to focus on waking up so that he can make his way home.

“That's it!” John yells in glee, “Wow, I think I just had a glimpse into what Sherlock goes through every time he solves a case.” He giggles, despite himself.

“Sherlock, cases, Baker Street, they all represent home. That's what I need to focus on. Home. Right, think about going home.”

John closes his eyes and smiles, his sole focus on going home; back to Baker Street, back to Sherlock.

x..x

“John.” Sherlock cries, his hand cradling John's face.

The Doctor had told him the conversation he'd had with John and that the doctor needed something to focus on.

It was almost like what Amy had had to do to bring him back but bringing John back should be a lot easier, considering.

It just depended on how much damage had been done to the ex-army doctor.

“John.” Sherlock repeats, and continues to repeat over and over.

He repeats John's name until it almost seems like a prayer and he wonders if John is doing the same, praying he can return to Sherlock.

The Doctor stands by Sherlock's side and waits, catching a glimpse of the concerned brother outside the room and wondering if he'll come in any time soon.

x..x

Suddenly, John feels like he's choking and he can't get enough air, that's when he realises it; this has happened before.

The night of the case; the drug addict killed in the abandoned house with Sherlock straddling him and his hands around his throat.

How could he have forgotten? No wonder everything had seemed so perfect; it wasn't real.

John almost sobs with the realisation of having to go back, back to a world were Sherlock will never know how much he loves him, one were they'll never be what John has always wanted them to be.

And for the first time since the revelation, he isn't entirely sure if he actually wants to go back.

No. That isn't fair on Sherlock; Sherlock's voice that's ringing inside his head, “Come back to me, John. Please.”

He has to go back, even if he and Sherlock never become what John so desperately wants, he can't stay here in this place.

Sherlock is his best friend and no matter what, they'll always have each other.

“Okay, I'm ready.” John gasps, tears falling from his eyes as he allows himself to be pulled back to the world of the living.

And just when he feels his heart breaking, he hears it; four little words that will change everything.

“I love you, John.”

Chapter Text

John's coughing in the otherwise quiet room is a welcome relief for Sherlock; as horrible as that sounds, it really is. For the first time since John's accident, Sherlock actually cries, his head dropping onto his and John's joined hands.

The nurses rush in and check John's vitals before removing the tube from his mouth so that he can finally breathe for himself. John gasps out Sherlock's name; his voice raspy from lack of use, and looks to his side where a riot of ink-black curls are resting on his hand.

He tentatively reaches out and runs his fingers through them, oblivious to the Doctor's presence and when the sad tearful eyes of his friend look up at him, John's heart nearly breaks all over again.

“John.” Sherlock whispers, his voice just as raspy as John's.

“Hey.” John smiles, and its the most glorious thing Sherlock has ever seen.

He's waited almost two years to see that smile again and it causes something inside him to break, his head dropping down onto their joined hands as he cries again.

“It's alright. I'm back now.” John soothes, stroking Sherlock's curls.

The Doctor, who had stayed out of the way until now, decides to make his exit quick, giving the pair some privacy.

John spots him and says quietly, “Thank you, Doctor.”

The Time Lord smiles and bows his head ever so slightly, opening the door and stepping out of the room. He spots Mycroft sat in a nearby chair; the older brother with his head in his hands and walks over to him.

“He's going to be fine.” The Doctor says with a smile.

“I know.” Mycroft whispers brokenly, the only sign of emotion the Doctor has seen from him.

Mycroft sighs softly and looks up at the Time Lord, “Thank you, Doctor. You really have saved my brother's life.”

The Doctor takes in the tear-filled and tired eyes of Mycroft Holmes and inwardly sighs, nodding at him before heading for the lift.

Mycroft smiles after the man and looks back to his brother's room, standing up and looking in at the pair. John smiles at him through the glass and Mycroft returns the gesture, before turning on his heels and heading for the lift.

x..x

The ex-army doctor looks down at his friend and sighs sadly at the physical signs of Sherlock's self-abuse.

“I'm sorry, Sher. I really am.”

Sherlock makes a noise in reply but barely moves; too afraid that this is all a dream and John will disappear again.

He doesn't look up until John says five little words that will change everything.

“I love you too, Sherlock.”

Chapter Text

It takes four months before John fully recovers and the doctors give him the all clear to go back to his normal life. John had been hoping to be given clearance sooner, especially with the young detective going almost out of his mind with boredom, but he had been in a coma for nearly two years so he should have expected a longer-than-normal recovery time. But two days after the doctor declares him fit to go back to work doing cases; with strict instructions not to over do it, Lestrade brings them a new case and this one is a nine.

John laughs as Sherlock looks about ready to kiss Lestrade for his gift, while Lestrade looks ready to smack the little maniac if he so much as takes one step closer.

“A nine, John. Finally! Isn't this brilliant?” Sherlock cries in delight, practically bouncing with excitement.

“Yes, Sher. It's brilliant.” John smiles softly, standing up from his chair and grabbing the file from Lestrade.

As he grabs it, Sherlock surprises him more than he ever has, by cupping his face in both hands and kissing him gently. John gasps in surprise at the initial contact before he sighs into the kiss and the file drops to the floor as it slips from his grasp; the papers scattering in a little pile by their feet. Sherlock pulls away with a soft smile and holds John's gaze for a moment, only pulling away when Lestrade clears his throat.

“Sorry, Greg. So the case, um … right. What is it?” John asks in embarrassment, blushing as Lestrade grins at him.

“Double murder, John.” Lestrade replies, grinning even more.

“Right. Let's go then.” John smiles, ushering Lestrade out the door.

Lestrade chuckles to himself all the way down the stairs as Sherlock follows after John, grinning like the cat that got the cream.

x..x

Sherlock, John and Lestrade climb out of the DI’s car and head into the deserted car park where the forensics team are waiting. At the crime scene two bodies are positioned side by side; a Caucasian man who looks to be in his mid-forties and a Japanese woman who looks like she couldn't be much older than her early twenties. The two victims appear to look so peaceful, which John finds slightly horrifying considering that they’ve both been murdered and then dumped in the deserted car park in this more secluded part of London. Anderson is talking to one of the other forensics team when he sees Sherlock and John standing next to the bodies and he groans loudly. Donovan rolls her eyes and walks over to her boos to give him more details on what they’ve found.

“Oh, great. Why did you bring our favourite psychopath?” Anderson asks with distaste.

“Sociopath, Anderson.” Sherlock snaps back, glaring at the man.

“Sherlock.” John warns, throwing a look at the younger man.

Sherlock sighs in frustration and snaps, “Can we just get on with it?”

“Right. Double murder. Male victim shot at point blank range and female victim had ...”

“Her throat slashed, yes. I do have eyes, Lestrade. It's been staged as a murder-suicide but you don't believe it is.” Sherlock replies, stooping down to look at the bodies.

“Yes. Because the two victims don't even know each other ...”

“How do you know that?” John asks in surprise, looking down at the two victims.

“We ran a background check on both of them. The man is a Derek Tapp, he's a manager at HSBC and has lived in London for thirty-five years. The woman is Isa Zenko, she's lived in Japan her whole life and only flew here last night.”

“That's it?” Sherlock snaps, glaring at Lestrade. “Incompetent.” He mutters to himself.

“Sherlock.” John warns again, raising an eyebrow at the younger man.

Sherlock takes a deep breath and looks back up at Lestrade, “Anything else, Inspector?”

“From what we’ve found so far, there's no reason why either of them would be around this side of the city. But is there anything else you can give us?”

“Both of them were coerced into coming here by a female team ...”

“How did you come to that?” Lestrade asks in confusion.

“If a man came over to you and asked you to come with him, would you? Never mind, you already have.”

“With who, genius?”

“My brother.” Sherlock smiles smugly, causing Lestrade to cough awkwardly and blush.

“Wait, Mycroft? You and ...” John asks in confusion, looking over at Lestrade.

The DI gives the doctor a look as if daring him to make a comment and John just simple shrugs in response, looking back at Sherlock.

“Okay, how about if the man wasn't Mycroft, Sherlock?” John asks pointedly, clearly hinting that he should drop the Mycroft subject.

“Lestrade?”

“No, I wouldn't.” Lestrade replies firmly, folding his arms across his chest.

“Well then, obviously a woman lured him. And a young woman visiting a new city wouldn't just follow a man willingly. Most women are smarter than that. So obviously she was lured by a woman as well. Women tend to trust other women more. I don't know why that is.”

“Well, unfortunately, our victim trusted the wrong woman. Now all we need is proof and motive.” Lestrade replies grimly.

“That's why you brought us in to help.” Sherlock smiles smugly.

Lestrade rolls his eyes and sighs in exasperation, running his hand through his silver-grey hair roughly. John gives him a sympathetic look and mouths a apology, to which Lestrade smiles back tightly in response.

“Now, who was she coming to visit?” Sherlock asks, looking over the female victim again.

“Well, coming all the way from Japan, I'd say family or a partner.” John replies, looking back up at Sherlock.

“Family then. So, find her family and we can plot her movements from the airport to here.”

“What about him?” Lestrade asks, pointing at the other victim.

“Shouldn't be too difficult to get information on him. Even you should be able to manage that, Lestrade.”

“Right, I'll call you when we get hold of Zenko's family.” Lestrade smiles gratefully.

“Come along, John.” Sherlock replies, holding a hand out to John.

John takes his hand with a smile, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet and carefully walking around the bodies. Sherlock squeezes his hand before letting go, directing John out with a gentle hand to the small of his back.

“Bye, Greg.” John says, looking back with a smile.

“Bye, John.” Lestrade grins, winking at the doctor.

John blushes and ducks his head, knowing that Sherlock is probably sporting a little smirk at John's expense.

Chapter Text

For the next three days, Sherlock sulks, and shoots the wall, and generally does everything he can to get on John Watson's last nerve.

The case was going smoothly, until a metaphorical spanner was thrown in the works.

Three Days Earlier:

They contact Isa Zenko's sister, Naoko; who tells them that she was supposed to meet Isa at the airport but her sister said she had some business to take care of first.

“Did she tell you what business?” Sherlock asks impatiently, receiving a sharp glare from John.

“Unfortunately, no. She just said that she would … call us when she was nearly here. But, well … the call never … came.” Naoko sobs, her face dropping to her hands.

“Did she know anybody else in the UK other than you and your family?” Sherlock asks carefully, trying to avoid another chastisement from John.

“Not that ... I know of … no. I'm sorry I can't be … more helpful … Mr Holmes.” Naoko continues to sob.

“That's … fine. You've tried your best.” Sherlock replies with a forced reassuring smile; causing John to hide a smirk.

“You will find the murderer, won't you, Mr Holmes?”

“Obviously. If you think of anything else. Give me a call. Come along, John.”

“We're very sorry for your loss.” John smiles softly, patting Isa's sister on the arm.

Naoko nods and gives a sad smile, watching as the pair leave.

x..x

Unfortunately, even three days later, they're still no closer to finding the killer and John is frankly losing the will to live having to deal with his boyfriend's sulking.

“Who would we trust without a doubt?” Sherlock asks aloud, causing John to look up from his newspaper.

“Family, obviously. No matter what happens, we always trust them despite our better judgement.” John replies absently, frowning at a particular article in the paper.

“What did you say?” Sherlock asks suddenly, sitting up on the couch.

“We trust family. No matter what.” John replies slowly as if talking to a small child.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid.” Sherlock snaps, shaking his head.

“Well next time, don't ask me to bloody repeat myself then, if it's so stupid.” John snaps back, throwing his paper down and heading to the kitchen.

“No, no, John. Not you. Me! I'm the stupid one. I missed the most obviously clues. And you, frankly, you've been brilliant this whole time.” Sherlock grins, grabbing John's face and kissing his forehead.

“Right.”

“Exactly. I forgot not all families are like mine, like how I have a distinct lack of trust for my brother. But you, ordinary people, you always trust your family. It's just who you are ...”

John raises an eyebrow at Sherlock in a sign of 'Not Good, Sherlock'.

“Oh, don't look at me like that. You know what I mean. Ordinary, less … dis-functional families.”

John smirks at his boyfriend, causing Sherlock to smile back and look at John just that little bit fonder.

Something warms in John's chest at the look and he has to turn away; memories of things he and Sherlock did in John's comatose dream-state coming back to the surface.

It wasn't real. We're not at that point yet. John tells himself, walking back into the kitchen to make two teas.

Sherlock's smile falters but then he remembers that they have to take this slow, otherwise one wrong move and one or both of them could break.

Sherlock moves back to sit on the couch; typing out a quick text to Lestrade about who he's deduced is the killer of Isa Zenko. He looks up and smiles gratefully as John holds out a fresh cup of tea for him; letting his fingers gently brush against John's as he takes the cup.

John smiles warmly in return, gently brushing Sherlock's curls with his now free hand before turning round and sitting back in his chair.

“So, you've obviously come to the conclusion that Zenko's sister murdered her but what about our banker?” John asks casually, sipping his tea.

“How did you know I'd deduced it was Naoko Zenko?” Sherlock asks in confusion, looking over at John.

“Elementary, my dear Holmes.” John grins, sitting back in his chair smugly.

“Ah, I've taught you well, John. So, you tell me, who killed our banker? Or at the very least, why he was murdered.”

“You tell me why you think Naoko murdered her sister?” John counters, challenging Sherlock.

“I asked you first.” Sherlock quips back, smirking at John.

“You love to show off. So, impress me.” John slyly smirks back, looking over the rim of his cup at Sherlock.

At that Sherlock's heart seems to stop beating because suddenly John is flirting with him and sure, it's not the conventional kind of flirting but then again, their friendship/relationship has never be classed as conventional.

But Sherlock feels his face heating because this is more than just friendly teasing; John is actually flirting with him and it's far too normal for this stage of their relationship but …

Suddenly, Sherlock is on his feet and standing in front of John's chair; while the doctor's face goes from smug to surprised in a matter of seconds and before Sherlock can stop himself, he leans down and grabs John's face; kissing the doctor passionately as John pulls Sherlock into his lap.

“You're brilliant, do you know that?” John says into Sherlock's lips, smiling softly at the younger man.

“The murderer … it's Naoko because … because her suitcase, Isa's suitcase, that is … is in Naoko's hallway cupboard.” Sherlock replies, stumbling over his words as he tries to process what's just happened.

“You see, brilliant.” John grins, kissing Sherlock once more. “You've told Lestrade then?”

“Obviously.” Sherlock replies without any of his usual bite. “So, who killed our banker?”

“I deduce Naoko killed them both. We already know that Isa had a large amount of money in her bank account and obviously she had a meeting with the bank manager about her finances. When Naoko found out just how much money her sister had, she planned to kill her sister and the only person who would have had contact with Isa.”

“I believe I should be impressed now, John.” Sherlock smirks, looking at John under his eyelashes.

“So, case solved then?"

“Well, unless you can think of anyone else who would have a motive and opportunity to murder both our victims.”

Just as John is mulling over this idea, Sherlock's phone buzzes with an incoming text.

You were right. Found the

suitcase at Zenko's sister's.

Also found the murder

weapon and Zenko's bank

statements. Thanks a

lot, guys.

GL

MESSAGE RECEIVED

“The case is now officially closed.” Sherlock smiles triumphantly, jumping off John's lap and doing his little victory dance.

“So, what shall we call this one then? International Affairs? Blood Is Thicker Than Water? Sibling Rivalry?”

“I'll leave that up to you. You are the writer after all.”

“Oi, you cheeky shit. Just remember who always makes you look good, Mr Consulting Detective.”

“And you do a remarkable job of it, my dear blogger.” Sherlock grins, grabbing his tea and downing it in one mouthful.

John shakes his head at his boyfriend, chuckling to himself and picking up his discarded newspaper.

“I'm going for a shower. Won't be long.” Sherlock smiles, disappearing out the door and towards his bedroom.

“God, I love that idiot.” John mutters to himself, settling in his chair to read the rest of the headlines and current events.

Chapter Text

One Month Later:

“Ah, here you both are. So new case for you guys to consult on, it's really …” Lestrade greets the pair brightly, until he notices John's death stare. “Alright, what did you do this time, Sherlock?”

“Why do you suspect I've done something?” Sherlock snaps, glaring at the D.I.

“Because John has his 'kill-mode' activated and you're usually responsible for anything and everything.”

“It wasn't my fault.”

“It never is!” John growls, shooting the death glare at his boyfriend.

“Alright fighters, enter the ring, also known as my office.” Lestrade replies, directing the pair into his office and shutting the door behind him.

“It wasn't my fault!” Sherlock shouts as John continues to glare at him.

“Oh, so my jumper just jumped onto the kitchen table and your chemicals just gained a mind of their own and poured themselves onto my jumper and ruined it, did they?” John yells back, resisting the urge to hit his boyfriend.

“I didn't know wool would react that way to such a small amount of sulphuric acid!”

“You're a so-called chemist! Or at least that's what you claim to be, Mr-I-Know-The-Exact-Properties-Of-Every-Chemical-And-Their-Reactions!”

“I diluted that solution to exact measurements. It's hardly my fault that your clothing is so cheap and non-durable.”

John growls and takes a step closer to Sherlock, his patience with his boyfriend rapidly running out.

“Now, now boys. Let's not do this here.” Lestrade replies, stepping between the pair.

“Just tell me, how would you feel if I poured chemicals on your Savile Row silk shirts?” John asks in a threatening tone.

“Bloody furious considering how much they cost!” Sherlock growls dangerously.

“Good to know.” John replies casually.

“You wouldn't dare.” Sherlock snaps, trying to be threatening.

“ENOUGH! Knock it off, children. We have a case to solve when you're finished bickering.” Lestrade yells, now completely done with the two immature man-children.

“This isn't over.” John warns, letting the matter rest for the time being.

x..x

In the end, Sherlock solves the case in under two hours and the pair have to return home; John's warning now ringing in Sherlock's head.

They take a cab back to Baker Street in silence and for once Sherlock pays for the taxi, unlocking the front door and letting John in ahead of him.

Sherlock waits and waits for what seems like an eternity for John to scream and shout at him again, but it never comes. Instead, John goes to the kitchen and makes a cup of tea for himself, heading back into the living room and reading the newspaper.

Sherlock wants to breathe a sigh of relief but he can't because John is acting too normal and it's like the calm before the storm; terrifying yet strangely exciting.

And Sherlock is surprisingly turned on by this; watching his dangerous and angry boyfriend being dangerously calm provokes such a reaction in Sherlock that he actually makes a sound like a whine.

John unconsciously looks up at the unexpected noise in the quiet flat and just stares at his boyfriend, taking in his stiffer than usual posture, the slight pink tinge to his cheeks and the way his eyes move around the room to avoid eye contact.

Is he … no, he can't be. This cannot seriously be a turn on for him. Is he seriously turned on by the fact I'm angry at him? No, it's not that. This is Sherlock Holmes, he's … he's turned on by the danger. He's waiting for me to make a move and because I haven't already, he's anticipating danger. Fuck, that's actually surprisingly … hot.

John's thoughts go unspoken as the silence in the room goes on just a little too long and then he does something very unexpected; he jumps up so suddenly that Sherlock actually takes a step back in surprise but John just continues to stalk toward his boyfriend and slams him against the wall, pinning his hands above his head with one hand.

Sherlock's head spins before he lets out the most erotic moan John has ever heard, followed by a full body shudder that makes John's cock twitch in interest.

John lets out the full force of his anger on Sherlock as he kisses him roughly and sets a bruising pace; which only seems to heighten Sherlock's pleasure as he takes the roughness willingly and openly.

The ex-army doctor knows he should still be furious with his boyfriend's antics but as Sherlock continues to moan and shudder under his touch, John's arousal wins out and he presses his whole body against his boyfriend's, gripping onto Sherlock's hip hard enough to bruise the younger man.

They're probably so far past the line of 'taking it slow' but they're two months into their relationship and three years into this waiting game that if they take it any slower, they'll be dead before they get past kissing.

And right now, John isn't patient enough to wait another thirty or so years to get close enough to this man to finally call him his own. And given the sounds coming from Sherlock, neither is he.

John breaks away from Sherlock's mouth to bite into his collarbone and mark him as John's.

“Fuck.” Sherlock gasps softly, his a voice raspy and breathing hard.

“Not really the thing to be saying right now, Sher.” John breathes against Sherlock's skin, trying to calm himself down.

“Fuck” Sherlock gasps again purposely before leaning close to John's ear and finishing his sentence in a whisper, “me, John.”

John stops breathing for a minute before sternly replying with, “No. Not after we've had an argument. I won't do that for your first time, Sherlock. I'm still mad at you.”

“I do like it rough, John.” Sherlock purrs into John's ear.

And maybe if it wasn't Sherlock's first time then he'd take him up on the offer but he can't do that now, not to his perfectly imperfect boyfriend.

“No, angel, I can't do that.” John sighs reluctantly, pulling away from Sherlock and releasing his arms.

“Angel?” Sherlock asks in confusion, wondering why John would call him that.

John chuckles and brushes Sherlock's curls tenderly, “Yes. Angel. Something wrong with that?”

Sherlock's cheeks flush as he smiles shyly and replies, “No. Nothing at all.”

“Good.” John smiles fondly, stepping away from Sherlock.

“I still want sex though.” Sherlock replies, sporting a little smirk. “Would it help if I apologised for the hideous jumper incident?”

“Try apologising without insulting my jumper.” John smiles despite himself.

“I can't help it if you have such hideous taste in clothes.” Sherlock grins at his boyfriend.

“Hey, my mum bought me that jumper.”

“Well, that explains everything then.”

John laughs out loud, because in all honesty, it was a hideous jumper and Sherlock probably did him a favour; he never wore it anyway, it just took up space in his wardrobe.

Sherlock walks over to John and kisses him as he continues to giggle softly at the absurdity of the situation.

When he pulls away, he smiles softly at the older man, “I always wanted to know what your laugh tasted like.”

“You daft idiot, a laugh doesn't have a taste, it's just a laugh.” John continues to giggle at his boyfriend.

“Yours tastes like happiness and most importantly, not anger.” Sherlock continues on as though John hadn't spoken.

“You're a bloody idiot.” John smiles, pulling Sherlock forward for another kiss.

“So on a scale of one to ten, how angry are you at me now?”

“About a five but only because if I always stayed at a nine, I'd have bloody killed you by now.” John chuckles, turning around and heading to the kitchen.

Sherlock follows him, intent on getting what he wants sooner rather than later.

“Are you going deaf or do you just have selective hearing? I told you I wanted sex.” Sherlock states, leaning against the kitchen table.

“And I told you, I'm still mad at you.” John replies, not bothering to look at the younger man.

“You're at a five. You probably wake up everyday at a five. You do live with me after all.”

“Well that's a point. I just … I don't want to get angry again while we're in bed and do something I'll regret.” John replies softly, finally turning to look at his boyfriend.

“Safeword.”

“What?”

“We'll have a safeword then. I can deduce your moods easily so if I can tell you're getting angry, we can use the safeword and you won't go too far.” Sherlock states, walking closer to John.

“Safewords don't always work, Sherlock.”

“Please, John. I've wanted you for so long now, don't make me wait any longer.”

“But, Sherlock ...”

“You trust me, don't you?” Sherlock asks carefully, meeting his boyfriend's eyes.

“Of course I do.”

“And I trust you, so this will work. Did we think our relationship would work? Or our friendship? No, but we took a chance. You've stuck by me at my worst, if things go wrong, I'll stick by you.”

John looks at his boyfriend and smiles softly, overwhelmed by Sherlock's words and unwavering trust in him.

“Come here, you.” John replies, pulling Sherlock in for a tender kiss.

But it becomes clear that Sherlock is done reasoning with the ex-army doctor as he backs him up against the counter and kisses him forcefully.

“Okay, I promise I'll be careful.” John promises, grabbing Sherlock's hand and pulling him towards their bedroom.

They undress slowly and carefully, the nerves of their first time now setting in as John considers the next step in their relationship.

“We don't have to do this, if you change your mind, I mean. If you tell me to stop, then I'll stop. You make all the decisions from now on.” John says carefully, standing next to the bed in just his t-shirt and underwear.

“John, stop. You know better than to try and talk me out of anything, so don't.” Sherlock replies with a smile.

“Alright then. So we're actually going to do this then?”

Sherlock chuckles lightly, walking over to his boyfriend and kissing him as he continues to giggle.

“We're not teenagers, John. You don't have to be so nervous.”

“You're telling me, I've got grey hair from putting up with you.” John laughs, squeezing Sherlock's hip. “I'll warn you, I've got a little bit … chubby since being back in London and the scar, it's not ...”

“I don't care. I … want you. Just you. I'm not the same man I was and neither are you, it doesn't matter to me.” Sherlock replies with surprising gentleness, resting his forehead against John's. “You're mine now. That's all that matters.”

John sighs softly, lifting his head up to kiss this wonderful man he's lucky enough to have in his arms.

“Okay then. Lie down and I'll take of you, I promise.”

“I know you will, John.” Sherlock smiles, stepping round John to climb on the bed.

John pulls off the rest of his clothes as Sherlock removes his boxers and gets everything they're going to need.

The ex-army doctor looks over at his boyfriend and smiles one last time before joining him, chuckling when Sherlock all but throws the lube at him.

“I'll have to open you up first, love. It will be a bit painful and probably a bit uncomfortable at first, but it will get better.”

“Angel.” Sherlock sighs, looking down the bed at John.

“What?” John asks in confusion, sitting back on his heels.

“I like angel. I don't know why but I do.”

“Okay. You sure you're ready, angel?” John smiles, kissing the inside of Sherlock's knee.

“Yes.” Sherlock smiles back, a fond look in his eyes.

John leans over and kisses Sherlock slowly, running his hand through the younger man's curls.

He pulls back and flicks the cap on the bottle pouring lube onto his fingers.

“Just try to relax.” John says carefully, gently pressing into Sherlock.

Sherlock gasps in surprise and grips John's arm hard, causing the doctor to pause in his actions.

“Do you wanna stop?”

“No! Carry on, please.”

“Alright, bossy.” John chuckles, gently pushing his fingers back into the younger man.

John feels Sherlock relax and leans over to kiss him, nibbling his bottom lip and drawing out ragged moans from his boyfriend.

He continues to open Sherlock up for a few minutes longer until Sherlock starts pulling on his arm, signalling his impatience at John not moving things along fast enough.

“This isn't going to be some fast and rough fuck, you know. I'm going to be slow and gentle with you so that means, if you've got some experiment to get back to then you better go now.”

“This isn't my first time, John but … I finally get to re-write with someone I truly care about and want to spend the rest of my life with.”

“Sher, that's ...”

“So, if you need your fix of tea any time soon you better go now, because I personally don't plan on leaving this bed until we've had at least two rounds.”

“God, I should have known you'd be a filthy one, although I always suspected you would be an animal in the bedroom.” John smirks, leaning down to bite Sherlock's collarbone again.

The resulting moan that the younger man makes would have been enough for him to rip Sherlock's clothes off, if he wasn't already naked and lying under him that is.

“Before we do this, I need to tell you something …”

“I know …”

“No, just let me say it, please. I need you to know that … I'm in love with you, Sherlock. I have been for a while and now just seemed like the right moment to say it. So, yeah.”

“I've always known, John. I was just waiting for you to act on it. And … I'm in love with you too so let's prove it, let's take the next step.”

“Right.” John replies, remembering where he is.

John lubes himself up thoroughly, lining himself up to Sherlock's entrance and pushing in slowly.

Sherlock moans softly and his eyes slide shut as he blindly reaches for John.

“I'm right here, angel.” John smiles, leaning forward and causing himself to slide deeper into Sherlock.

Sherlock's face contorts at the extra stretch and John quickly apologises to his boyfriend.

“I'm sorry, baby. I'll be more careful.”

Sherlock shakes his head in response, sliding down and forcing John deeper.

“Stop that. I could do serious damage to you.”

“Better now. Needed … more.” Sherlock replies, finally opening his eyes and looking at John.

“Bloody idiot. I thought I'd hurt you.” John chuckles lightly, leaning down to kiss the younger man.

“You could never hurt me. It's yourself you should worry about.” Sherlock replies honestly, looking into John's eyes.

“We've been there and done that already. Let's focus on the future instead. And in your future, I see me making love to you for a few hours and then we either get dinner at Angelo's or order a take away, is that alright with you?” John replies, kissing Sherlock's forehead.

“Show me just how much you're in love me and make love to me properly, then we'll discuss the semantics of dinner.”

John pulls out slowly and pushes back in, watching Sherlock's face as he moans softly.

John continues to go slowly, kissing Sherlock lazily and watching as the younger man surrenders himself to John; body, soul and heart.

“I love you.” John whispers, nuzzling his nose against Sherlock's as he continues to move in and out of him.

“John.” Sherlock purrs, shifting his head to gently nibble on John's bottom lip.

The nibbling slowly turns into lazy kissing which slowly turns more heated as John starts to speed up.

Sherlock has a moment of panic that John's remembered their earlier argument and then he himself remembers that they never came up with a safeword.

“John.” Sherlock whispers in a panicked tone.

John immediately stops, “Too much? Sorry, I thought that …”

“I thought your anger from before had come back.” Sherlock replies softly.

“No, angel. Sorry, it's my fault, I thought you wanted more. I must have read you wrong.”

Sherlock relaxes and smiles at his boyfriend, “No, I should have trusted you.”

“Do you want to stop? We can do this when that argument isn't fresh in our heads.”

“No, I trust you. Carry on, please. And John … go back to what you were doing before.” Sherlock smiles, leaning up and kissing John.

“Okay.”

John speeds up slowly, kissing Sherlock deeply before moving to his neck to bite and suck at the flesh.

Sherlock moans louder, dragging his nails down John's side and leaving his own claim in his boyfriend's skin.

“Fuck, Sher. Don't stop doing that, please. In fact, go harder. Make me yours.”

“Oh, John. I think I'm going to ...” Sherlock gasps breathlessly, shifting his legs to lock his ankles with John's.

“Go on. You don't need to hold back with me, angel. Let it go.” John moans into Sherlock's neck, his hand reaching up to gently pull on the younger man's curls.

“JOHN.” Sherlock yells to the ceiling, orgasming between them.

John goes faster as he chases his own orgasm, the stickiness of Sherlock's release between them bringing him closer to the edge.

“God, Sher, you are … you're just so …” John mumbles, as he rides out his orgasm.

He pulls out slowly and collapses next to Sherlock, looking over at him as though he's some sort of wonder.

He turns Sherlock's face to look at him and smiles.

“Beautiful.” He sighs happily and breathlessly, “ You're beautiful, my angel.”

Sherlock rolls over and rests his head on John's chest, “For the record, that's what I wanted from my first time. Protection, safety and love.” He whispers, kissing John's chest.

John remains silent to process this rare moment of vulnerability and honesty and files it away in his head, promising to bring it back to the forefront of his mind when he and Sherlock next argue.

“That should be our vows one day. Not about the first time but the rest of it.” John muses to himself, not expecting Sherlock's reply.

“Yes, one day.”

Chapter Text

“I need your help, John.” Sherlock announces, looking up at John.

“Alright, what can I do?” John asks with a smile, sitting down in his chair.

“Well, would you kill for someone you love?”

“Well, if I had no choice and it was to protect the people I love then yes, I suppose I would.” John replies confidently.

“Thank you.”

“Alright, so what was that about?”

“This latest case. A woman murdered her husband to protect her daughter.”

“Wait, what happened to her daughter?”

“The bruises on the little girl's body suggest she was beaten repeatedly, over a course of four years.”

“How … how old is she?” John stammers, trying not to get angry.

“Seven.” Sherlock replies, not bothering to look up.

After a few minutes of silence, Sherlock looks over at John and sees the clenched fists of the older man.

“Are you alright, John?”

“Mm, yeah, I'm fine.” John replies distractedly, taking deep breaths.

“Cases involving children always get you upset. Is there anything I can do? Do you want to sit this one out?” Sherlock asks gently, walking over to John.

“No! No, I wanna stop this woman getting locked up for protecting her daughter.” John says with a slight edge to his voice, looking up at Sherlock.

“Alright.” Sherlock nods, resting his hand on John's shoulder before walking back to his desk.

“What can we do?”

“We can stop her getting thrown into prison for protecting her daughter.” Sherlock replies, tapping away on the keyboard of his laptop.

In the end, Sherlock and John manage to stop the mother from being locked up. As it turns out, it wasn't just a crime of passion, the mother was defending herself and her daughter. She hit him with a small stone statue a little harder than intended and accidentally killed him.

Thankfully, the prosecution found the mother innocent of murder and; taking into account the evidence of abuse to her and her daughter, let the woman go. It caused quite an uproar with the press that she didn't get a sentence but all in all, John is glad she wasn't sent to prison.

“The case turned out quite well, don't you think, John?” Sherlock beams, sitting down on the couch.

“Yeah, it did.” John smiles back, truly elated that the mother and daughter will have a better life now.

“I'm surprised that the mother didn't get any jail time but really, I'm very glad. She didn't deserve to go to prison when there was a man like that around.”

John looks up in surprise and smiles softly.

“What?”

“Just you. Being all human and caring about a family for once.”

“Yes, well. I am capable of being sympathetic at times, John.”

“I know, love. It's just nice to see it.” John replies, walking over and sitting down next to Sherlock.

“I know it's unusual, John. But please, try not to sound so surprised.”

“Shut up.” John grins, leaning over to kiss Sherlock's cheek. “Anyway, I'm going to bed, love. I'll see you in the morning.”

“Goodnight, John.”

“Goodnight, Sherlock.”

x..x

Two days pass and another case comes in, taking up three weeks of John and Sherlock's life. The two men settle into a routine of solving crimes; locking up murderers, rapists, drug dealers etc.

Three years come and go by since John first moved in to Baker Street and he feels more alive than he has in a long time; and it's all thanks to Sherlock.

“You love this, don't you?” Sherlock asks with a smirk, looking over the table at John.

“Would I sound mad if I said yes?” John grins, sipping his tea.

“Completely.”

“Then yeah, I do.” John chuckles, causing Sherlock to laugh along with him.

“I never thought there'd be any one I could share this with. And then a short, thrill-seeking army doctor walked into my life.” Sherlock smirks at John.

“Oi, cheeky shit.” John smirks back, kicking Sherlock under the table.

Sherlock laughs manically, picking up his cup and heading to the kitchen.

“Being short has it's advantages.” He replies as he returns, “Mainly being that you make me look taller.” He grins.

“Any more of that and I'll get Lestrade to give you some truly boring cases.”

“John.” Sherlock whines, pouting at his friend.

“Then behave.” John warns, standing up and disappearing to the bathroom.

Sherlock smiles shyly as he sits down in front of his laptop, checking his emails and looking for clients.

As he hears John exit the bathroom and go up to his room to get changed, Sherlock decides to ring their favourite Chinese take away, feeling hungry for once and knowing John probably is as well.

The doorbell rings ten minutes later as John is heading down from his room and he goes down to the stairs to answer it; knowing Sherlock probably won't bother.

“Take away for Sherlock.” A younger man announces as John opens the door.

“Oh, yes. Thank you, Jay. How much is it?” John asks in surprise.

“It's already paid for, Doctor Watson.” Jay replies with a smile, handing the bag over to the older man.

“Here's a tip then.” John smiles, handing a five pound note over to Jay.

“Thanks, Doctor Watson.” Jay beams brightly, taking the money.

“I've told you to … never mind. Have a good night, Jay.” John laughs, rolling his eyes.

“Thanks, you too.” Jay grins as he practically bounces away from the door.

John laughs at the younger man and shuts the front door, heading back upstairs.

“You ordered Chinese?” John asks the younger man.

“Yes, problem?” Sherlock asks, raising an eyebrow at John.

“Not at all, love.” The older man smiles, dropping a kiss onto Sherlock's curls.

Sherlock coughs to hide his blush, accepting the tray of food from John.

The pair eat in comfortable silence until they're finished and Sherlock picks up his violin to play.

John listens to Sherlock play until his eyes start to drift close and then suddenly he's woken up by Sherlock shaking his shoulder.

“Go to bed, John. You're falling asleep.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“Not a problem. Take my bed if you're too tired to head upstairs.”

“Okay, thanks, Sher.” John smiles sleepily, stretching his back before getting up and kissing Sherlock's cheek. “Night, Sherlock.”

“Goodnight, John.” Sherlock replies, feeling his cheeks heat as John walks away.

Chapter Text

John wakes the following morning to find a tall, lanky detective wrapped around him tightly; snoring softly in his ear.

Desperately needing to relieve himself but unwilling to disturb the rare situation happening next to him, John tries not to think too much about needing to pee but as Sherlock snuggles closer, a new problem arises; quite literally.

The army doctor sighs to himself and carefully tries to untangle himself from Sherlock; subtly trying not to draw attention to his body's reaction to Sherlock's closeness. Of course, he fails miserably as Sherlock's hand brushes his erection and John involuntarily moans; waking the sleeping detective.

“M'ning.” Sherlock rumbles sleepily, making the situation worse.

By this point, John has two choices; try to escape without Sherlock noticing or just be upfront about the situation. He chooses the latter as he is currently in bed with the World's Only Consulting Detective.

“Sherlock, I need to get up and piss. And well, deal with myself. So, could you move, please?”

For a millisecond, Sherlock looks confused until his hand twitches again and John barely holds back a moan.

“Oh, right. Well, it's been a while but I'm sure I remember the mechanics of it.” Sherlock smiles, sitting up and looking down at John.

“Wait, what? Did you just offer to … That wasn't a request or a hint, Sherlock. That was me being polite. You don't have to do that. I can manage myself.” John replies, trying to be delicate about it.

“I'm sure you can, John. But wouldn't it be more pleasurable with my help?”

“Oh, for fuck's sake.” John practically whimpers, throwing his hand over his eyes.

“Would it not?” Sherlock asks in confusion.

“No. Well, yes, but we haven't got to that point yet. We're still trying to work out how we work, Sher.” John replies softly, looking up at the detective.

“Well, obviously we work very well together. We've already had sex so what else do we need to work out?” Sherlock asks, rolling his eyes.

John laughs at the absurdity of the situation, realising that once again Sherlock is right about everything.

“Yes, but having sex and giving someone a blow job are too very different things.”

“How? They're both sexual acts.”

“Yes, but … I'm not going to win this, am I? And it's probably a waste of time arguing with you about it, isn't it?”

“Obviously, John.”

“Okay then, are you sure you're comfortable doing this? Because if you're not then that's fine. But I don't want you doing it because you think you have to. I won't force you to do anything you're not comfortable with because ...”

"John, you're still arguing. I could have had you moaning for about … three and a half minutes by now.” Sherlock replies, smirking at the older man.

“Well then, put that mouth to good use then if you think you're so good.” John challenges, which probably isn't the best idea he's ever had given Sherlock's smirk.

Sherlock leans over John and whispers in his ear, “Hurry up in the bathroom. I'll be waiting.”

John jumps up so fast, he's pretty sure he probably threw Sherlock out of bed and quickly tries to relieve himself while having a raging erection.

He's sure he manages quite successfully and even manages to aim properly but with the promise of what's to come, he wouldn't bet money on his success.

John re-enters the bedroom to find a dishevelled and very interested consulting detective waiting for him; looking up at him with pupils blown wide and a seductive smirk.

“God, you're gorgeous.” John smiles, climbing back onto the bed.

“That's usually how you'd talk someone into your bed, not to someone who's already in it.” Sherlock grins, leaning over John.

“Well, as we're in your bed, how did you manage to get me here?” John chuckles, leaning up to kiss Sherlock.

“Originally, I do recall it was by destroying one of your jumpers. Last night, all I had to do was offer you an easier way to sleep.”

“Ah, ever the romantic, aren't you?”

“That's your job, not mine. Mine is to be dashing and irresistible.” Sherlock replies with a smirk, shuffling down the bed.

“That's true.” John sighs as Sherlock's hand brushes against his erection again.

Sherlock quickly pulls off John's pants and boxers, leaning back down to lick a stripe up John's cock. John moans at the action and reaches down to stroke Sherlock's curls, gently encouraging him.

Sherlock  repeats the action before taking John fully into his mouth and beginning to slowly move his head up and down.

“That's it, Sher.” John moans softly, continuing to stroke Sherlock's curls.

The older man grips the sheets, moaning loudly and trying not to thrust into the younger man's mouth. But as Sherlock practically purrs around his partner's cock, John instinctively thrusts into his mouth.

Sherlock speeds up slightly, reaching up to scratch John's chest and the doctor is startled that that's all it takes before he's orgasming down the younger man's throat.

Sherlock wipes his mouth before crawling back up to lie next to John, his hair even more ruffled thanks to John's hands.

“Well, that was embarrassingly quick.” John chuckles, running his fingers through Sherlock's hair.

“Actually, given how worked up you were and with my talents, I estimate it was longer than expected.”

“God, I love you, you mad idiot.” John laughs, rolling over to kiss his partner.

Sherlock rolls John onto his back and they continue to kiss lazily for a while until the sound of Sherlock's phone interrupts their sanctuary of quiet.

“Go on, it's probably a case. I'll get myself cleaned up and dressed.” John smiles reassuringly, sitting up and stretching.

Sherlock grins and all but runs from the room, quickly snatching up his phone and answering it.

“What is it, Lestrade?”

Chapter Text

“Just so we’re clear, you’re sure about this? Because it’s a big responsibility, Sherlock. You can’t walk into lightly.” John asks unsurely, trying to process what his partner is suggesting.

“John, I’ve done the research and I’ve got the application forms right here.” Sherlock replies, handing over the stack of papers.

“Children take a lot of work, Sherlock. You can’t just stick a child in the corner and hope they feed themselves. When I go to work, you’ll have to look after him or her.” John replies, sitting forward in his chair.

“I know that, John.” Sherlock sighs, rolling his eyes and lying down on the couch.

“You barely feed yourself, Sherlock.”

“I thought this is what you would want, John.”

John sighs softly and walks over to his partner, sitting down on the edge of couch and running his hand through his curls.

“Of course I want to start a family with you, Sher. I just don’t want it to become a strain on our relationship. We go out chasing criminals all the time. We’re barely home some days because we’re on stake outs or running through the city. So you can understand my concern. I just don’t want a child to interfere with your work.”

“Our work, John. And we can work around the work, can’t we?”

“Of course we can but … it’s just a lot to take on, that’s all. I’m worried you’ll end up regretting it.”

“Of course I won’t.” Sherlock snaps, sitting up and grabbing John’s arms. “I want to have a family with you. I see how you look at all the other people walking around with children and I know you want that. Of course I can’t bear a child for you, but there are so many that need a home.”

“I know, love. But when we got in a relationship together I knew having a child might not happen. Of course, I’d like to be a dad but I love you and that isn’t going to change, Angel.”

“But John …”

“Let’s sit and think about this rationally first. Give it a week and we’ll see if this is still something you want to do. If it is, then we’ll make plans to prepare for it.” John replies softly, kissing Sherlock’s forehead.

x..x

One Week Later

John is on his way home from work after a long day of dealing with colds and coughs when it happens …

The force of the impact isn’t what paralyzes him with fear; it’s the noise and the screaming that follows it.

The worst part is, he’s a doctor and he fought in Afghanistan; if anything, a bomb on the tube shouldn’t scare him. But it’s been so long since he was in Afghanistan and he’s so far from there that it’s completely unexpected and terrifying. And what scares him even more is that he should have been on the tube but he’s running late. If he hadn’t have left his phone at work and had to go back for it, he’d have been on the very train that just exploded.

Before John even realises it, he’s running towards the subway; shouting to bystanders to call for emergency services and bomb squad while he tries to assess the damage and if he can get down to the subway safely. Slowly, he tries to navigate down the steps to help find survivors and take a better look at the damage. He loses his balance as he trips on rubble but quickly regains his footing, listening for any signs of life.

He hears a woman sobbing and follows the sound, carefully stepping over chunks of rubble and the mangled remains of those who were clearly too close to the bomb to survive. As he passes by more people; checking for signs of life, he starts to wish he hadn’t let his phone battery die because now he can’t ring for assistance or even call Sherlock.

He finds a small child and manages to carefully pull her out from under her dead mother; she’s got scratches across her face and a sprained ankle but seems relatively unharmed. John realises that her mother is lying next to what used to be the wall of one of the subway entrances and managed to shield her daughter from the worst of the blast.

“Hey, can you tell me your name?” He asks the child, who seems to be in a severe state of shock and completely unresponsive.

When she doesn’t answer, John gently guides her face towards his own to stop her eyes from wandering and help her to focus.

“Hey, sweetheart. What’s your name?” He asks softly, careful not to frighten her.

“Beth … Bethany.” She whispers, turning to look around her again.

“Bethany, we need to get you out of here. Okay? Police officers are on their way so let’s go over to the steps, yeah?”

She nods but makes no attempt to move so John carefully directs her back to the steps just as Lestrade and members of his team come down into the subway.

“John, are you alright?” Lestrade gasps, running over to his friend.

“Yeah, I missed the tube. Found this one under … um, can I get a paramedic over here, please?” John calls, waiting until Bethany has been taken away by the paramedics before he continues speaking, “I found her underneath the body of her mother. I’m not sure she realises yet. She’s in serious shock.”

“Yeah, she’s bound to be. So you acting as doctor and first responder then?”

“Looks like it. Oh, text Sherlock for me, please. My phone’s dead and he probably expected me to be on the tube.”

Just as Lestrade pulls out his mobile, the men hear Sherlock’s yelling from the surface.

“John! John!” Sherlock yells, running down the steps.

“Sherlock, be careful, you’ll break your bloody neck.” John calls, watching his partner stumble over rubble.

“John.” Sherlock sighs in relief, grabbing John’s face and kissing him.

John sways slightly before gently gripping Sherlock’s coat and kissing him back.

“I thought … John. I …”

“I know, love. I missed the tube. My battery died so I couldn’t text you. Sorry for worrying you, Angel.”

Sherlock huffs in response, pulling John into his arms and burying his face in his neck.

Around them, Lestrade is directing paramedics and police officers to various parts of the scene, giving the pair a moment of privacy.

Sherlock finally pulls away and collects himself, looking at the scene around them and at what could have cost him his partner.

“I’ll consult with Lestrade about this. It could be just the beginning.” The detective replies, scanning for every detail.

John is glad for the distraction; relieved that they’ll be able to be of assistance in this situation.

“I’m gonna help check for survivors. You get any details you can into that mind palace of yours.” John replies, knowing Sherlock is barely registering his presence as he processes the scene.

John nods once and kisses Sherlock’s cheek, heading off to help the paramedics search for survivors.

Sherlock smiles softly as John walks away, finally fully submerging himself into his mind palace now that he’s certain John is unharmed.

“Anything I can do to help? I’m an army medic and used to dealing with this sort of thing.” John asks one of the paramedics.

“Yeah, that would be great. We could use all hands on deck right now.” The paramedic smiles gratefully, directing John to help him lift a large chunk of rubble.

Together they carefully lift the chunk of rubble, finding an elderly man trapped underneath; barely conscious.

“Sir, can you tell me your name?” The paramedic asks carefully, checking the man’s breathing and pulse.

The man gasps and coughs in reply, clutching his chest as he struggles to breathe.

“It’s alright, we’re going to get you out of here.” The paramedic reassures the elderly man. “Stretcher over here!” He calls to another paramedic.

Two paramedics carefully come rushing over with a stretcher, laying it down and slowly sliding it under the man; John and the other paramedic carefully manoeuvring the man onto it.

The paramedics fix an oxygen mask to the man’s face, strap him onto the stretcher and then carefully carry him away.

“So you were first on the scene?” The paramedic asks John, as they move around the ruined subway.

“Yeah, I was actually supposed to be on the tube when it happened. Was running late home from work.”

“Bloody hell, someone was looking down on you then.” The paramedic chuckles dryly, kneeling down to check the pulse of an elderly woman. “Well, that’s another death to add to the list.” He sighs sadly, standing back up.

“Yeah, I’d like to hope there’s less but it doesn’t look good.” John replies, checking a young man near the dead woman.

He shakes his head as he finds no sign of a pulse and the broken neck of the kid who’s probably no older than seventeen.

After three hours, the list of the dead is so long with the majority of the dead being aged between twelve and twenty-one; that John sighs sadly at the loss of so many young lives and how things could have been so different if he’d been on that train.

He’s sitting down on a bench on the street near the subway, his head in his hands as he tries to breathe in something other than the stench of death when Sherlock walks over to him; his hand rubbing gently at John’s neck.

John’s hands drop to his sides as he relishes in the touch of the younger man, calming his nerves and providing him a new smell to process; something purely Sherlock.

Sherlock steps closer as he recognises John’s need for comfort and allows John to rest his head against his hip; continuing to rub his partner’s neck.

“Go home, you two. Get some rest.” Lestrade says, rubbing a hand through his silver hair.

“You should as well, Lestrade. It’s been a long day for everyone.” Sherlock replies, not looking at the D.I.

“Got some paperwork to do first but yeah, it has.” Lestrade sighs, patting Sherlock’s shoulder. “Good work today, John. You’ve been a life-saver, literally.”

John nods slightly in reply, standing up and stretching his aching muscles.

“Tell my brother not to start a war over this. Even if he does care greatly for John.” Sherlock replies dryly, causing John to smile just a little.

“How did you … never mind.” Lestrade chuckles, walking off towards his team.

“Lestrade and Mycroft?” John asks in surprise, chuckling to himself.

“Yes, for quite some time now. Not that they thought I knew.” Sherlock replies in distaste, directing John to walk the opposite direction.

“It’s killing you, isn’t it? Those two being together.” John smirks, looking smugly at his partner.

“Of course it isn’t. They’re adults, what they do in their private time is nothing to do with me.”

“Bollocks. You’re just mad because that means that someone finds your brother attractive and actually wants to be in his company.” John laughs.

“Why would I care?” Sherlock sniffs in annoyance.

“Because it means you were wrong. Your brother isn’t as repulsive as you make out.”

“Wrong? I’m never wrong. It’s Lestrade who’s wrong. He thinks my brother is capable of loving something other than his power.”

“That’s crap and you know it, Sher.”

“Yes, well, can we not talk about my brother and Lestrade?”

“Sorry, Angel.” John replies, grinning at his partner.

“We have more important things to talk about. Adoption for starters.” Sherlock replies, grabbing John’s hand.

“Yeah, I suppose we do.” John smiles, squeezing Sherlock’s hand.

Chapter Text

John walks into the kitchen and peers through to the living room where he sees his partner sat in the same position that John left him in last night. He clicks the kettle on and grabs two cups out of the cupboard, dumping a tea bag in each of them before adding one sugar to Sherlock's cup and two to his own. The kettle boils and John pours water into each cup, before grabbing milk from the fridge and adding milk into both brews. Once he's finished making the brews, he takes them both to the living room and smiling fondly at his partner.

"Morning, John.'' Sherlock greets with a smile as John walks in.

''Morning, love.'' John smiles back, walking over to kiss Sherlock softy. ''Did you get any sleep last night?''

''I was busy doing an experiment.''

''Sherlock, if you're serious about adopting then you need to get a better sleeping pattern. You can't be awake at all hours when we finally have a child, it will only disrupt them.''

''But John, the work.'' Sherlock replies, waving a case file to emphasise his point.

''Yes, I know, Sherlock. That's why I said we can't go into this lightly. If you can't adjust your work around a child then we just won't be able to adopt.'' John says gently, turning back to the kitchen.

John heads back to the kitchen to grab some toast as Sherlock stands up and charges into the kitchen in a panic, his mind going a hundred miles a minute. Sherlock steps up behind John and grabs his shoulders to turn him around.

''But you want a child more than anything.'' Sherlock cries desperately, shaking the older man.

John gently pulls Sherlock's hands away and brings them both to his lips, kissing the younger man's knuckles. He reaches up to cup Sherlock's face and pulls him in for a kiss, stroking his cheek as he does so to calm down his frantic partner before pulling away with a soft smile.

''No, love. I told you, I want you. And if we can't have a child then we can't have one. It's as simple as that. I'd rather miss out on something I don't have then lose something I already have. I love you, Sherlock. You know that. If that's all I can have then I will gladly take it and cherish every moment I have with you. Regardless of if we have a child or not.'' John replies softly, stroking Sherlock's curls to reassure him.

''I would do anything to make you happy, John. I love you too. And if you want a child then I will do whatever it takes.''

John smiles at his partner with all the love he feels in his heart, "I'm so lucky to have you, Sher."

"No, John. I'm lucky to have you." Sherlock replies, leaning down to kiss his army doctor.

"Listen, I'm gonna meet up with Harry today. Last week made me realise the importance of family and about second chances. I was lucky I wasn't on the tube when that bomb exploded and I need to make things right, now. I need my sister back in my life, despite her past." John says seriously, swiping his toast out of the toaster as it pops.

He quickly butters the toast and takes a large bite, trying to eat it quickly so he can head out.

"I understand, John. Tell her I said hi."

"Really?" John asks in disbelief, around a mouthful of toast.

He stares at the younger man for a moment as he swallows the piece in his mouth, remembering it's poor manners to talk with a mouth full of food. He takes another bite and nearly chokes on it as Sherlock responds.

"Well, you're hardly going to tell her I asked if she's still an irresponsible alcoholic, are you?" Sherlock smiles, making his way back to the living room.

John rolls his eyes as he manages to swallow the piece of toast and glares at the younger man.

"Sherlock." John warns, finishing off the cups of tea.

"Have fun." Sherlock calls back.

"Dickhead." John mutters with a smile, shaking his head.

John pulls his phone out and dials his sister's number as he puts on his coat, putting the phone to his ear as he puts his shoes on.

“Hey, Harry, are you still up for meeting me? Okay, see you soon.” John replies before hanging up.

He shoves the last of the toast in his mouth as he heads down the stairs and onto the street, hailing a cab to take him to a café near by. When the cab pulls up outside the café, he pays the driver and climbs out of the cab before heading inside. He suddenly realises that he's finally ready to make amends with his sister after so many years apart. He finds her sat at a table by the window and he has to admit that she looks good, healthier and her skin isn't as deathly pale as it once was. She waves him over enthusiastically with a big bright smile.

“Hey, Harry. Thanks for meeting me. How are you?” John asks politely, sitting down at the table across from his sister.

“I'm alright, yeah. I'm off the booze now. Oh, me and Clara are going strong too. Anyway, how are you doing, little brother?” Harry asks with a big smile.

“I'm great. Yeah, well, more than great actually.”

“Oh yeah? Tell me everything, what's she like then?” Harry chuckles, playfully kicking him under the table.

“Who?"

“There's only one reason you'd be smiling like that and it's either because you had sex or there's a woman in your life. So which is it?"

She leans forward conspiratorially, grinning at her little brother as though they're kids again and he’s just about to tell her all about it first kiss.

“Neither. Well, there is someone but not a woman.”

"Nooo, you like guys? God, mum would have loved this. Two gay kids. Who would have thought? Well, she did always want a daughter-in-law and a son-in-law, probably just not in this way." Harry giggles, playfully slapping John's arm.

"That's the thing though, I don't know if I do like men or if it's just Sherlock. I mean, I know a experimented a bit as a kid but that doesn't really mean I like guys."

"Sherlock? Wait, the guy from your blog? From what I've read he's a right dickhead so why him? I mean, no offence, Johnny, but isn't he just a little be too high maintenance for you? After all, you dumped Emily because she was a Class A bitch."

"Harry, you don't see him the way I do. Everyone thinks he's an insufferable dick, and yeah, most of the time he is but sometimes ... Sometimes he's caring and loving. And he's just so insecure. He has a brilliant mind but also a gentle heart ..."

"Oh fuck, bro. You're in deep. You're in love with him, aren't you?" Harry replies softly, looking carefully at her younger brother.

"Yeah, I am, Harry. I've never felt like this before about somebody and now he wants us to have a kid too ..."

"Do it."

"What?"

"Do it. Have a kid. If you're in love with him then take that next step. If you want a family then have one. Now that you're officially out of the army, you can finally have that family you always wanted. You were always great with me, and we both know that I was supposed to be the older sibling.”

“Harry, I want to but there's so much to consider and Sherlock, he ... I think he'll have a hard time with a child. But he's willing to do anything so I get the chance to be a dad."

“Johnny, you love each other and I assume you want to spend the rest of your life with him, right? Well then, if you've really discussed it then go for it. Having a kid isn't easy, I know, but it isn't impossible. There are so many kids that need a loving home and I know that no matter what, you can give a child that."

John looks at her properly, trying to figure out what her angle is. But all he gets is honesty and complete support. She definitely looks good now, John notices with pride. She doesn't twitch from alcohol withdrawal anymore and her face looks a nice shade of pink from the cold. She looks like old Harry did when they were kids.

“So you're going to support us with this?” John asks with a smile.

"Of course I will, Johnny. Just... Uh... So long as you support us, me and Clara I mean."

"Of course I will but you've got to tell me what's going on, Harry."

"Well, me and Clara... We are gonna adopt a kid too. We've already started the process, we just have to wait for the all go."

"Harry, that's fantastic. I'm so proud of you." John beams at his sister, truly happy that everything is working out for her now.

“Thanks, little bro. Now as someone who is already going through this, remember one thing, adopt a child because you want someone to love and take care of. Your main weakness is that you need to be needed, John. But in the right circumstance, it can also be your strength. Isn't that why you joined the army? To be needed to help people? Well, you still can. And I know it probably doesn't count for much but, I think you'll be an amazing dad. Better than ours ever was.”

“Harriet Watson, that means the world to me. God, why didn't we do this sooner? We've missed out on so much." John smiles, grasping his sister's hand.

“We both needed to sort ourselves out, John. You needed to leave the army behind completely and at that time you couldn't. As for me, I needed to get through my alcohol addiction. But I blame, this right now, on Clara. That woman's changed me, John. She really has. We've had our issues but she's never given up on me. I'm a better person because of her." Harry smiles back, squeezing her little brother's hand.

Me too John thinks to himself, remembering how Sherlock changed his life for the better. 

“Well, remind me to thank her.”

“Come over on Friday and you can. She's cooking tea for us. She really wants to meet you, John. Hell, you can even invite Sherlock too, after all, I've got to give him 'the talk', don't I?"

“Alright. Friday. We'll be there.” John grins.

“Good.”

Chapter Text

"So you're sure about this, right?'' John asks carefully as they leave 221B.

''Yes, John. I am very sure about this.'' Sherlock replies in an exasperated tone.

'' I just want to make sure, Sher. Children are...''

''A big responsibility. Yes, I know, John. But I've already told you, I want to have a family with you.''

''Okay then.'' John replies with a smile.

John and Sherlock walk into the orphanage and are just looking around for someone when an older woman walks up to them with a bright smile.

“Doctor Watson and Mr Holmes, I presume.”

“John, please. And this is Sherlock.” John smiles back, holding a hand out for her to shake.

“Nice to meet you, John, Sherlock. I'm Kate Willows, the Governess. Well, we don't get many army doctors and consulting detectives coming here, it's a bit of a surprise.” The woman replies, shaking John's hand before motioning for the two men to follow.

''Surely an army doctor isn't that rare but of course you have never had a consulting Detective here. I'm the one and only.'' Sherlock replies with a sneer.

John elbows him in the ribs and shoots him a dirty look.

“Governess? I didn't realise that's what you still called yourself.” John chuckles lightly, trying to change the subject and following Kate into her office.

“Ah, I'm the only one who keeps the title really. I've been the Governess for over thirty years. We're very traditional here. My great grandmother set up this orphanage back in the old days. She didn't like the word 'nanny' so she called herself Governess Kathrine instead, and it's been tradition since.” Kate replies animatedly, pointing to various photographs on the walls.

“Wow, so family run place then. Nice.”

“Oh yes. Kathrine was quite the care-giver, couldn't cope seeing children on the streets. She had a good heart.”

“I bet she did.” John agrees with a nod and a soft smile.

Sherlock mutters something under his breath causing John to shoot him yet another dirty look and sit down at the desk.

“Yes, anyway, down to business, Doctor Watson, Mr Holmes. Obviously, we need a couple who are good with children and can provide a steady and loving home. So, from what I can see neither of you have a criminal record and you both have a steady income. Which is a hopeful sign.” Kate smiles again, quirking an eyebrow under the silver framed glasses. “Now, if you'd like to come with me and meet the children.”

John smiles softly and nudges Sherlock to respond, to which the younger man smiles awkwardly and stands.

“Of course.”

x..x

John sits with the children for half an hour under the supervision of Governess Kate while Sherlock, on the other hand sits in a corner, smiling softly as he watches John interact with the children around him.

''John, Sherlock, I just need to talk to some potential foster parents for about 30 minutes. Another carer will be here any moment."

“No problem, I'm sure we'll be fine. Won't we, kids?” John beams at the children.

They cheer in unison before going back to playing with their toys.

A little boy with dark curls and abnormally pale skin is the only child sitting quietly in the corner, reading a book. John looks at him and his heart stutters in his chest; he's so much like Sherlock it's unreal. He looks back at his partner and sees that he's currently pre-occupied with studying the books on the shelf; no doubt mentally critiquing them as 'boring' or 'predictable'.

“Hi, what's your name?” John asks carefully as he approaches the little boy.

The little boy looks up and he has the brightest blue/green eyes John has ever seen.

He eyes John warily before whispering, “Caden.”

“Hi, Caden. I'm John.” John replies, sitting down in front of the boy.

“John.” Caden replies simply, before looking back down at his book.

“What are you reading?”

“A Midsummer Night's Dream.”

“I've read that one. It's a good book, isn't it?” John asks with a bright smile.

Caden looks up warily and when he sees John's genuine interest, nods excitedly, showing John the book.

“Where are you up to?”

“Helena and Hermia in the forest.” Caden replies with a smile.

John moves over to sit next to Caden and the next twenty minutes are spent helping the little boy understand the more difficult words.

Unnoticed by John, Sherlock watches the pair interact the whole time and feels a lump in his throat at how natural John is with the child.

A carer enters the room and sits with the other children but Sherlock pays her no attention beyond the facts; single, two cats, late twenties, loves children, had to get the bus to work - boring, ordinary and predictable.

Caden and John are just finishing the book when John hears his name being called by a familiar voice.

“Johnny!”

“Harry, hey.”

''Oh good, the alcoholic sister. We finally meet.'' Sherlock drawls, standing up to look at John's sister.

“Hey, little brother. Ah, and the famous Sherlock Holmes. Nice to meet you, Sherlock.” Harry smiles with a far too fake smile.

''Ah, the infamous Harry Watson. How's the alcoholism?''

''Sherlock!'' John snaps at the younger man, fixing him with his 'not good' look.

''Apologies, Harry.'' Sherlock replies, offering a hand to the younger woman.

''Must have hurt sucking up your pride like that, huh? You must really love my brother.'' Harry replies with a smirk, shaking Sherlock's outstretched hand.

''Could you two just try and get along?'' John sighs, shaking his head at the pair.

''I'm sure we'll try.'' Harry replies, turning back to face John. ''So what have you two been up to?''

“Me and Caden here were just reading A Midsummer Night's Dream. Weren't we, Caden?”

Caden nods excitedly, smiling brightly at Harry.

“It's a good book.” Harry agrees, before looking back at Caden, “How are you, Caden?”

“I'm fine, thank you, Harry.” The little boy replies, smiling at Harry.

“Have I missed something?” John chuckles, looking at his sister.

“I told you that me and Clara were thinking of adopting, right? Well, when we saw Caden, we just knew … Um, come over here, Johnny.” Harry replies, helping John up onto his feet.

She pulls him out of ear shot before continuing, “Clara fell in love with him the minute she saw him. She said he's the most beautiful little boy she's ever seen. So, we're thinking of adopting him. But it's still a work in progress. That's why we haven't told him yet. But if you're bonding with him then ...”

“Harry, don't be silly. If you want to adopt him, then do it. I'll have a lot more bonding time with him when you do. Besides, I was thinking of a little girl. I always wanted a little girl.” John smiles wistfully at his sister.

“Are you sure, John?”

“Harry, it's only been a day. How long have you and Clara spent with him, eh?”

“About seven months now.”

“Then adopt him. He's a bright little boy and deserves some love.” John says with a smile, touching his sister's arm.

“Oh, Johnny. You're gonna be a great dad.” Harry cries happily, hugging her brother tight.

“Thanks, sis.” John replies, hugging her back.

“I'll go tell Clara.” Harry grins before running off to find her partner. “Oh, Johnny, thank you.” She calls back from the door.

“You're welcome, Harry.” John calls back, grinning widely at her.

“John. John, what's going on?” Caden asks softly, tugging on John's jeans.

John crouches down until he's at eye level with the little boy before replying, “I think, your day is about to get better, Caden.”

Caden looks at John in confusion before looking back at where Harry was stood.

“I don't understand.”

“You will, trust me.” John smiles, patting Caden's head gently. "Come on, Sherlock. Time to go."

"Goodbye, Caden. Enjoy the rest of your book." Sherlock says, genuinely smiling at the child.

John looks at his partner with Caden and smiles softly; he'd never realised how good with children his partner was.

Sherlock gently ruffles the boy's mess of curls before grabbing John's hand as the pair walk out into the hallway.

"John, why didn't you tell him that your sister is going to adopt him?" Sherlock asks when they're out of earshot.

"Because it's not my place to, Sherlock. Besides, it will be better coming from them." John replies carefully, looking over at his sister and Clara.

The pair fall into a comfortable silence as they reach the office of Governess Kate.

She leads them into her office and all three sit down at the desk, ready to discuss the next step in the adoption process. 

“Thank you for coming here, gentlemen. So, how was it? Are you still considering adopting from our home?" Kate asks the two men with a smile.

“It was good, yeah. Um, we'll have to discuss it more but I'm sure the plan is still the same, right Sherlock?"

"Yes, very much so. It will mean some adjustments to our lifestyle and home but we can make it work." Sherlock smiles, leaning towards John just a little.

“Aww. Well, we're glad. If you do change your mind however, let us know. Obviously our main priority is rehoming the children in safe and loving environments. And if potential foster parents are unable to provide that then that means a child's welfare is going to be at stake."

"We understand that. And I know I'm not at liberty to say anything but if Harriet Watson needs referees then we'd be willing to step forward to support her and Clara."

"As her brother, I will say this, we were worried when we first saw Harriet. She looked a little worse for wear. But after seeing the way she and Clara were with Caden, there was no mistaking were he belonged. He was a difficult case when he came in. The poor lad was only three when he was dropped off on our doorstep, and he rarely opened up to anybody. I think other than myself; you two, Harriet and Clara are the only ones who ever made him open up to somebody. I still can't believe it only took you two half an hour.” Kate replies with a proud smile, touching John's hand.

“Yeah, me too. He's a very bright little boy and we had something in common.”

“Oh?”

“His book, A Midsummer Night's Dream. I read it when I was younger, it was my favourite book. So much so, I re-read it when I went into the army so it's still relatively fresh in my mind. Reading it with Caden took me back to when Harry used to read it to me.”

“Aww. Well, I'm glad he'll have a couple of familiar faces around him. Lord knows that boy needs some stability in his life after what he went through.”

“Yeah, he's only seven after all. Poor kid. But I know for certain that my sister and Clara will take good care of him.”

“Of course, well, I've got to get the children ready for tea, otherwise I'm afraid I'll talk all night.” Kate giggles, standing up from behind her desk, “I'll be in contact about your next appointment, gentlemen. Thank you for your time."

“Thank you, Kate.” John replies, standing up and shaking her hand.

"Yes, thank you, Kate. It's been very insightful." Sherlock replies with a smile, kissing Kate's hand.

“Oh no, thank you, gentlemen.” Kate smiles blushing a little.

She leads them out of her office before disappearing, when John sees a little girl stood in the doorway to another room.

“Oh, hello.” John says, smiling down at the little girl who's face is mainly covered by a teddy bear. “What's your name?”

“Harriet.” She mumbles into her teddy.

“Nice to meet you, Harriet. I'm John and this is Sherlock."

Sherlock smiles awkwardly at the child.

"Is that your teddy? What's his name?” John asks to cover up Sherlock's discomfort.

“Benny.” The little girl whispers, looking down at her teddy.

“That's a very nice name.” John nods, crouching down next to Harriet.

“Did you come to take someone home?” Harriet asks, looking back up at John.

“Well, yes if we can.”

“I saw you with Caden.” She replies, playing with her teddy's ears.

“Yeah, my sister is going to adopt him. He's … going to be very happy now. Are you two friends?”

Harriet nods in reply, squeezing her teddy tighter.

“Well, I can tell my sister and I'm sure she'll bring him round here to visit. Would you like that?”

Harriet looks up at John then Sherlock curiously before nodding.

“Alright then.”

“Harriet! Harriet! Has anyone seen Harriet?” John hears Kate's voice shouting worriedly.

“Kate! She's down here!” John calls up the corridor.

“Oh, goodness. Harriet, you gave me such a fright. I was worried, dear.” Kate replies gently, touching the girl's head.

“We were just talking, weren't we, Harriet?”

Harriet nods in reply before holding a hand out for Kate.

“Sorry, Governess Kate.”

“It's alright, dear. Let's get you some tea, shall we?” Kate replies with a smile, grabbing hold of the little girl's hand.

“I swear, we'll make it out the door this time.” John jokes, standing up straight again.

Kate giggles in reply, patting his shoulder.

“Bye, John. Bye, Sherlock.” Harriet whispers, trying to wave with her teddy in her hand.

“Bye, Harriet.” John smiles, waving at her before Kate gently pulls her away to the dining room.

She disappears round the corner, still looking over her shoulder at the pair.

“Cute kid.” John says aloud, turning back to Sherlock.

"Yes, quite." Sherlock replies, grabbing John's hand and leading him out the door.

Chapter Text

For the next few days John and Sherlock visit the orphanage, the highlight being the children’s smiling faces as they walk through the door. Then John sits down to read them a story and little Harriet crawls into his lap every time while Sherlock sits to one side watching the pair. Unfortunately though, the criminals of London don’t take vacations and the following three days sees the pair chasing after a murderer and solving yet another case.

“Are we going to see Harriet tomorrow?” Sherlock asks as the pair sit down to eat their Chinese.

“Well, I think we’ll have to. After all, we haven’t been to the orphanage in three days now and if we want to adopt a child then we’ll have to choose one, spend time with them then start sorting the paperwork out.” John replies, avoiding the mention of Harriet.

“You didn’t answer my question, John.”

“Yes, I did. You asked if we were going to the orphanage tomorrow. I said yes.”

“No, I asked if we were going to see Harriet tomorrow? You decided to avoid the question and speak in a general sense.” Sherlock replies with a smirk.

“Sherlock. Don’t get the girl’s hopes up for goodness sake. If we can’t adopt her for whatever reason, it will break her heart.”

“Who says we won’t be able to adopt her? I like her and you obviously felt an instant connection with her even after only spending a few minutes with her.”

“It’s not that simple, Sherlock. What if somebody else wants to adopt her?” John replies, eating a forkful of rice.

“Then ask her.” Sherlock says matter-of-factly.

John nearly chokes on his food as he realises what Sherlock has just said, “We can’t ask her if anyone else wants to adopt her, Sherlock. She’s a child. You don’t ask children that sort of question.”

“Then ask Kate.”

“Sherlock, be reasonable. We’ve not been able to go to the orphanage for three days because of a case. At this point I’m wondering if we’re even able to adopt a child.”

Sherlock’s fork clatters loudly into his bowl as he stares worriedly at John, “Don’t say that!” He shouts in the quiet of the flat.

“Sherlock, I’m just being realistic. I want a child with you, yes, but we’ve discussed this. I don’t need to have a child with you. I love …”

“Yes, you love me. And I love you too but I want a child with you, John. I don’t want you resenting me later on!” Sherlock yells before snapping his mouth shut, realising he’s said too much.

John puts his fork down and looks at his partner carefully, “Sherlock.”

The younger man ignores him in favour of staring down at his half-eaten curry.

“Sweetheart, look at me, please.” John says softly, reaching over to gently clasp his partner’s hand.

Sherlock’s eyes slowly meet his with a sad expression.

“You need to stop thinking that I’m going to leave you. I’m not. But if you think we can manage this then we’ll go to the orphanage tomorrow and see Harriet again. Or any other child you might want to see.”

“I like Harriet, she makes her eyes light up and your smile go soft.”

As if to prove his point, John’s face softens at the mention of the little girl and Sherlock’s heart swells with affection and love.

“Okay.” John replies simply, leaning over to kiss Sherlock softly.

x..x

The following morning, John and Sherlock are sitting in Kate's office to discuss the next steps of fostering and adopting. The governess hands them both a cup of tea, settling into her seat with her own as she watches the two men get comfortable.

“I see you’re getting along very well with little Harriet, John.” Kate smiles, bringing the cup of tea to her lips.

“Yeah, I don't know what I did but she seems to like me.” John chuckles, gratefully sipping his own cup of tea.

“Maybe you're kindred spirits. Harriet had a difficult little life before she came here. She came from an abusive home and her mother brought her here to give her a better life. She said that she was terrified that Harriet's father would start on her when it was too much for her mother to take. That was two years ago and we … haven't seen her mother since.” Kate replies sadly, looking down at her tea.

John sighs softly as he remembers his own abusive childhood and how he rarely saw his mother smile, especially after he was born. His dad's drinking got worse after another mouth to feed and losing his job when the company went into administration just added fuel to an already explosive fire. His mother was a stay-at-home mother, having given up her job after John was born; she'd worked so many hours when Harry was a girl that she decided things would be different with baby number two.

John was so happy to come home from school to freshly baked cookies or muffins and his mother's smiling face as she saw her baby boy come into the house; pink faced and grinning from a few hours of football practice at school with his friends. Her smile would quickly slip away as they heard John's father stumbling down the stairs, hungover from hours of drinking and in a foul mood because his wife hadn't made tea yet.

At sixteen, John finally made the decision to pack his stuff and go to college, living in dorms there just so he could get away from his father and Harry said he could stay with her on the weekends, if he wanted. She'd moved out when John turned thirteen, determined to get away from the monster who'd spent most of her life drunk and abusing their mother. He'd begged her back then to take him with her and she'd promised that once college was over, she'd come back for him, then their mother had no reason to stay with their father once her children were safely out of the house.

By nineteen, John made the decision to join the army and while his mother worried, she'd told him how proud she was of him and not to worry about her, that his dad was sick and it was her responsibility as his wife to help him get better.

Two years later, he got the call he'd spent his life dreading, his mother was dead, killed by the monster her children had fled away from and left her with. Three years into his father's twenty year sentence, John got the called he'd waited for since he was sixteen, his father was finally dead; hung by his own hand in prison after his children refused to visit him.

The nightmare was finally over, or so he thought. Over the years during his time in the army, John had gradually lost contact with his sister; who had followed in their father's footsteps, trying to find solace at the bottom of a bottle. John knows that he should have been there for Harry, especially after she kept her promise to come back for him, but the trauma ran deep and seeing her spiral the same way as their father did, was too much for John to take. Maybe if he'd just ...

“John. John.” Sherlock says gently, shaking John's shoulder.

“Sorry, I was just thinking, that poor girl. Well, both of them really. But her mother was brave to take her away from harm.”

“Yes, she was. We tried to contact her to see if she wanted to visit Harry but we've never heard anything back.”

“Most likely the mother tragically lost her life.” Sherlock cuts in, causing a look of horror to cross Kate’s features.

“Or maybe she's making sure that the father doesn't find Harry. It's the best way to keep her safe, Sherlock.” John replies, glaring at Sherlock.

“Well, statistically ...” Sherlock begins until John gives him the ‘Not Good’ look, “That could be a possibility too.” He says instead.

Kate’s features relax dramatically and she resumes drinking her tea, eyeing Sherlock warily. John tries to smile reassuringly at her, trying not to show that he thinks Sherlock may well be right and trying to be positive about the mother's outcome.

“Sorry about him, Kate. It’s the detective in him.” John replies gently, nudging Sherlock.

“I apologise, Kate. Please go on.” Sherlock smiles, trying to be caring.

“Well, as I was saying she's a wonderful little girl despite it though. And she has a lovely little smile.”

“I know, I can't understand why anyone would want to hurt a child, especially one as small as her. Poor thing wouldn't have stood a chance.”

“No, she wouldn't. John, Sherlock, I know it's only been a few weeks but … would you both consider adopting Harriet? She needs a good home and a loving family.”

“We’d love to but …”

“Yes.” Sherlock interrupts, smiling at Kate.

“Oh, great.” Kate replies with a beaming smile.

“Sherlock. Kate, I’m sorry but we need to discuss this first.”

“Of course. Lord knows that girl needs some stability. Well, all the children here need that. But I understand, I really do.”

“Thank you, Kate. Sherlock, a word, now.” John replies, the tone of his voice leaving no room for argument.

The pair walk out of the orphanage into the open air to prevent the children witnessing the conversation they’re about to have. He understands Sherlock’s excitement but adopting a child isn't like solving a case, you can't just put it down when you're bored of it. You have to be there constantly taking care of a child and it's a big responsibility.

“Sherlock, I want to adopt a child as much you do but you can’t just promise to adopt a child without discussing it with me first. Children are a big responsibility, Sherlock, they need constant love and attention. You can't just get bored, love.”

“Apologies, John. I got ahead of myself. But we can do this, I know we can. She needs us, John. And who better than someone who’s been where Harriet has? I know your childhood was unimaginably awful, John, but your experiences could give Harriet someone to relate to, someone who knows what she's been through and will do everything to make sure it doesn't happen again.”

John looks at his partner with tears in his eyes, his partner and best friend has grown so much since they first met and he's so incredibly proud of who he's become, and grateful that he's been a part of that.

“Yes, you did get ahead of yourself. Now, I get the feeling you want to adopt Harriet?”

Chapter Text

A few days later, Harriet walks cautiously up to John; her little stuffed bear in her hands.

“John.” She whispers softly, looking up at him with big eyes.

“Hey, Harriet. What's up?” John asks with a smile, crouching down to the little girl's height.

“Um, how come nobody wants to adopt me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, all my friends have got mummies and daddies now but I haven't.”

“That doesn't mean nobody wants to adopt you, Harriet. It just means that the right person hasn't come to see you yet. You'll get a mummy and daddy soon enough. You just have to be patient, sweetheart.” John replies gently, touching the little girl's hand.

“I don't care about having a mummy and a daddy, specif - ikly.” Harriet says, trying to use the correct words before continuing, “I know why mummy brought me here. Daddy was a bad man who hurt Mummy.” She whimpers, closing her eyes and burying her face in her bear.

“Not everybody is like that, Harry. Some mummies and daddies love their children and take care of them.” John says carefully, sitting down properly and pulling Harriet into his lap.

“Are you and Sherlock going to adopt me?” Harriet asks hopefully, looking back up at John.

“Um, we don't know yet, Harry. We … um … need to discuss it and make sure we can give you everything you need.” John replies softly, stroking Harriet's hair out of her face.

“Oh, okay.” Harriet says with a slight nod. “That's okay.” She adds, kissing John's cheek and climbing out of his lap.

John stares dumbfounded at the little girl when a cough behind him knocks him from his thoughts.

John looks up and sees Sherlock standing behind him with a soft smile on his face.

“So, she wants us to adopt her then?” He asks carefully when the little girl is out of ear shot.

“Yes, she does. So, what do we do?” John asks, standing up to properly look at his partner.

“We talk to Kate and see what we can do about adopting her.” Sherlock replies softly, leaning in to kiss John.

x..x

The two men are heading to Kate’s office to explain the situation to her, when Sherlock stops suddenly; walking into the room with the children in.

“Sherlock?” John asks when he notices he’s disappeared.

“Go on ahead, John. I’ll catch up with you.”

John rolls his eyes and decides to do as he’s told, despite wanting the three of them to have a conversation about Harriet.

After John tells her the situation, Kate smiles softly before replying, “She talks about you all the time.”

“We’re considering adopting her but we obviously wanted to speak to you first before saying anything to Harriet.” John replies sadly, looking back over at the room of children.

“Well, honestly, John … You’re only one of a few couples to actually approach us about Harriet. The girl tends to become very difficult around most couples.”

“Difficult?” John asks unsurely, wondering if they’re talking about the same child.

“Don’t get me wrong, John. I’m not saying she’s a naughty child or anything of the sort. The difficulty lies in her trauma, it's so deep that she struggles in high stress situations. Raised voices will either cause her to go non-verbal or scream if someone tries to reach out to her. Our in-house therapist says that she needs a couple that can cope with her psychological needs and manage them at all times. She needs an environment that is calm and parents who will minimise potential triggers for her.”

“Ah, right. Yeah, coming from an abusive home can do that to you. So, is she the same with all couples, heterosexual and homosexual?” John asks carefully, watching Kate with concern.

“Well, you see, other than you, your sister and your respective partners … we actually don’t get many homosexual couples adopting from this orphanage.”

“Oh, okay.”

“I honestly don’t know why as we’re very open to same sex couples adopting. We don’t judge by colour, race, gender or sexuality. All we care about is ensuring safe environments and support networks for both our children and potential foster and adoptive parents.”

“That’s a really positive view, Kate. I’m glad that couples like me and Sherlock are being given that opportunity. So, tell me more about the support network.”

x..x

"We need to think about a support network," John says out of the blue, six hours after returning from the orphanage.

"Come again?" Sherlock asks, having been up to his eyes in his latest experiment.

John glances behind him, making sure no more of his jumpers are suffering; after losing three already. He spots one on the floor by his feet and kicks it under his chair before continuing.

"A support network. Harriet asked if we'd adopt her, and I think it might be wise to have a look into creating a support network for her and ourselves. Harriet may be young, but this is the age where children start to remember things more vividly, and she's already got her own mindset, beliefs, and opinions because of her past. We'll need people who are willing to be a listening ear for all three of us, people who'll run errands when we're rushed off our feet, people we can call to babysit if needs be. All of that and more, Sherlock."

"You mean like personal assistants and therapists?" Sherlock asks disdainfully, looking up at John to make a face of disapproval.

"No, not personal assistants and therapists. Like friends, family, and colleagues," John sighs, a bit aggravated by his partner's inability to get it. "Kate mentioned it to me, and she explained it. It’s a good idea. God knows that with our job, we'd need the help."

"Very true, but that's why we have Mrs Hudson," Sherlock replies indifferently, waving his hand dismissively and going back to his experiment.

"We can't adopt a child and drop them on Mrs Hudson every time we have a case, Sherlock!" John exclaims.

"Why not? She might like the company of someone small," Sherlock says, then snickers quietly to himself, so quietly that John almost doesn't hear it. 

Almost.

"Were you about to make another joke about my height?" John asks suspiciously.

"No, not at all," Sherlock dismisses, grateful that his back is turned away to hide his smirk.

“Cheeky shit.” John chuckles, leaning down to kiss Sherlock’s curls.

Sherlock lifts his head up and watches his partner as he makes his way over to the kettle to make teas.

“What?” John asks when he realises Sherlock is watching him.

“Nothing.” Sherlock replies sheepishly, lowering his head as a blush starts to creep up his cheeks.

“It’s okay, if you’re not comfortable with all the public displays unless it’s you instigating it.” John smiles softly, reaching out to touch the younger man’s curls.

Sherlock makes a noise that almost sounds like a purr as John gently strokes his curls. The older man smiles and then feeling bold, he gently tugs on a handful of the ink-black curls, suddenly causing Sherlock’s purr to turn into a low moan. John grins mischievously, pulling them again a little harder and relishing in Sherlock’s surprised gasp.

The ex-army doctor decides to take it a step further and gently pulls Sherlock to his feet by his hair drawing another long moan from the younger man as he complies to John’s man-handling.

“I didn’t know you like that sort of thing, Sher.” John whispers into Sherlock’s ear, the tone forcing the younger man to lean against the table to steady himself.

“Very interesting information to have that.” He continues to torture the younger man with his low husky tone; just a hint of Captain lying underneath it.

“God.” Sherlock gasps, grabbing a handful of John’s jumper and pulling him slightly.

“You’re so hot like this, darling.” John praises sweetly, trying out the new endearment.

It has its desired effect as Sherlock whines softly, clearly wanting more than what he’s being given. John smiles to himself, stroking Sherlock's curls as he leans in a little to whisper in his ear.

“What do you want, darling?”

“You, John.” Sherlock sighs, gravitating closer to his partner.

John contemplates torturing Sherlock a little more but when he sees his partner’s face properly, he realises he could probably snap his fingers and it would undo the younger man completely. Instead, he pulls him in for a rough kiss that has Sherlock melting in his arms immediately as he roughly rubs at the bulge in the younger man’s pants.

“I have a strong feeling I could make you come like this. What do you think, Sher?” John whispers huskily, leaning in to nip at Sherlock’s neck.

The younger man keens at the first gently nip, body twitching slightly as his orgasm hits him like a freight train, causing John to smile proudly. Sherlock's body sags against his partner and John softly kisses his forehead, stroking his curls in soothing circles.

“Fuck you’re beautiful like this. I love you, Sherlock, so fucking much. Marry me.”

“I’d love to, John.” Sherlock breathes, leaning in to kiss his partner, “But I’ll need to clean myself up first.”

John laughs loudly, pulling Sherlock flush against himself, “You’re a bloody idiot but by God do I love you.”

Sherlock grins at the older man, nuzzling his nose against John’s, “And no, I don’t mind public displays of affection. Not with you anyway.”

John smiles warmly, “Go on, sweetheart, go get yourself cleaned up. I’ll order us a Chinese for when you’re done.”

“What about you?” Sherlock asks, his hand dropping to John’s own very impressive bulge.

“You can make it up to me later, gorgeous.” John grins, pecking Sherlock’s cheek.

The younger man’s eyes light up and he practically runs to the bathroom to clean himself up. John giggles as he goes, pulling out his phone to order food for them both.

Chapter Text

Two weeks go by in a blur of cases for Scotland Yard, sleepless nights and visits to the orphanage for various appointments.

By the end of week two, John is practically dead on his feet and struggling to keep his eyes open as they enter 221B.

“John, when is our next appointment with Kate?” Sherlock asks as he flops onto the couch.

“Two weeks, Sherlock. Kate did say we could drop into the orphanage and see Harriet if we rang ahead first though.” John replies sleepily, trying to suppress a yawn.

“Ah.” Sherlock replies simply.

“What’s wrong, Sherlock?” John sighs softly, rubbing his tired eyes.

“Do you think Kate would let us take her out for a day trip?”

“Not sure, Sher. Listen, sweetheart, I’m completely shattered and need at least twelve hours sleep. Can we discuss this after I’ve slept, please?” John asks gently, standing up to stretch his aching muscles.

“Of course, John. And take my bed for the night. I think I’ll stay up and sort a few things.” Sherlock smiles softly, holding his hand out for John.

John grabs Sherlock’s hand and leans in to kiss his partner’s forehead.

“Thanks, Angel. Love you.” He replies softly, squeezing Sherlock’s hand before heading off to his bedroom.

“I love you too, John.” Sherlock calls after him, a soft smile playing at his lips.

He jumps up from the couch and gets to work on what he needs to sort out, hoping John will be happy with what he’s done.

x..x

John wakes from the most restful sleep he’s had in years and looking over at the clock explains why. The numbers slowly come into focus as John’s eyes adjust; 3pm the clock tells him and the doctor swears as he jumps out of bed in a rush.

He hastily shoves his clothes on and brushes his teeth before he runs towards the door; it’s only Sherlock’s voice that stops him from leaving the flat entirely.

“It’s Saturday today, my love.” Sherlock calls with a chuckle as John shuts the front door and makes his way back upstairs.

“Could have told me bloody sooner, you git. Wait, did you just …” John replies as he enters the room.

“What?” Sherlock asks in confusion.

John moves to stand directly in front of Sherlock’s chair as the younger man watches him.

“What you said before, say it again.”

“I said it’s Saturday today.” Sherlock replies in his ‘bored’ tone, rolling his eyes.

“No, all of it, Sherlock. Exactly as you said it.” John replies with a smirk.

“I said, it’s Saturday today, my … Oh.” Sherlock stops before the end of the sentence, only now realising what he said.

He looks down at John’s feet, trying to determine if he’s made an error. Not that he realised he’d even said it; not consciously anyway.

“Say it, Sher.” John says gently, reaching out and tilting Sherlock’s head up.

Sherlock takes a deep breath and replies almost in a whisper, “It’s Saturday today, my love.”

John sighs softly, smiling at his partner before leaning down to kiss him slowly.

Sherlock’s hand reaches up to cup John’s cheek as he pulls him forward to stand in between his legs.

John follows Sherlock’s pulling willingly, debating about straddling his lap before deciding to kneel on the chair between his partner’s legs; never once breaking the kiss.

“John, I don’t understand.” Sherlock murmurs as they break the kiss.

“Sorry, Angel. You just got me by surprise that’s all. I didn’t expect you to say that.” John smiles reassuringly, a blush forming on his cheeks.

“It wasn’t a conscious thought, John. It just …”

“I know, love. And it’s fine. It’s better than fine really.”

Sherlock smiles at his partner, running his fingers through his slightly greying but still blonde hair as said partner smiles down adoringly at him.

“I love you, John.”

John chuckles lightly, “I love you too, Sherlock.”

x..x

The pair spend the rest of the day having a lazy day; well, John does as he watches tv while Sherlock decides he has ‘very important experiments to see to’.

John chuckles as he occasionally glances over at his mad-scientist partner until Sherlock interrupts his thoughts.

“Are you going to do that all night?”

“Do what, love?” John grins, turning to properly look at Sherlock.

“Watch me working. It’s incredibly distracting.” Sherlock replies, a smirk sliding across his lips.

“I thought you loved having an audience while you worked.” John replies innocently, making his way to the kitchen in search of tea.

“Yes, but I told you …”

“You’re working on very important experiments that need your full attention and focus. I know, Sherlock.”

“Well, if you know then why are you so intent on distracting me?” Sherlock huffs, glaring at John from over his beakers.

“If you were so focused then I wouldn’t be able to distract you, would I?” John counters, flicking the kettle on.

“You’ve always distracted me. You know that.” Sherlock replies distractedly, noting down something on some paper.

“I didn’t actually.” John replies, looking over at his partner.

Sherlock stops mid-writing to look over at John in confusion.

“Oh. Well, now you do.” He says simply, going back to his experiment.

John chuckles lightly, unsure how to respond to that; instead deciding on making two teas and some toast before going back to watching tv.

“Eat something at least, love.” He says with a slight command, setting the toast and tea next to Sherlock’s elbow.

Said detective sighs dramatically and rolls his eyes, but still obliges to John’s pestering and shoves a piece of toast into his mouth.

“Thank you.” John grins, hearing the tell-tale sound of chewing even if he can’t see him eating.

There’s a knock on the door and the sound of Mrs Hudson answering; Sherlock groans loudly before the sound of footsteps and an umbrella notify them that Mycroft Holmes has arrived.

John grins and picks up today's newspaper off the coffee table; checking to see if anything interesting is going on in the world.

“What the hell do you want, Mycroft?” Sherlock growls, glaring at his brother as he enters the kitchen.

“I wouldn’t annoy him, Mycroft. I don’t know what chemicals he’s messing with but I’m sure that at least one or two of them combined could kill you.” John calls conversationally from the living room, flicking through the newspaper without really reading it.

“Why thank you for the warning, Doctor.” Mycroft calls back in a mocking tone.

“Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” John replies, recognising Mycroft’s tone.

Sherlock sniggers from the other side of the table and gives his brother a grin.

“Must you two behave like children all the time?” Mycroft replies in his usual bored and exasperated tone.

“We’ve had this conversation before, Mycroft.” John replies, still not rising to the bait.

“Yes, something about blogs and pants.” The older Holmes drawls, almost visibly shuddering at the memory.

“Something like that, yeah.” John agrees conversationally, grinning to himself.

“Very funny, Doctor Watson. I can practically feel you grinning from here.”

Before John can reply with his comeback, Sherlock reluctantly interrupts the conversation.

“As much fun as it is to watch you two spar with words, brother mine, I believe I asked you a question.”

“I have a case for you, it’s …”

“No.” Sherlock replies immediately, before adding, “Goodbye, Mycroft. Try not to let the door hit you on the way out. Or do, I’d much prefer that.”

“Sherlock.” Mycroft warns, causing John to sigh loudly.

The ex-army doctor makes his way over to the kitchen, ready to stop the argument before it starts.

“See what he has to say first, Sherlock. It might be a good one.”

“I’m not his lapdog. He has Lestrade for that. If my brother can’t be bothered doing ‘legwork’ then why should I do it?” Sherlock replies, not even bothering to look up from his note-taking.

“As much as I’d rather deal with this myself, unforeseen circumstances have made it that I cannot actively get involved.” Mycroft replies, an edge to his tone that peaks Sherlock’s interest.

“Ohh. It’s a matter concerning someone very important and for you to get involved could cost an alliance.” Sherlock deduces easily, almost grinning with glee.

“Very good, dear brother. Now, will you take it?” Mycroft replies tensely, not impressed with his brother’s antics.

“Busy.” The younger man replies with a smile.

“For the love of … Sherlock, this is a matter of national importance.”

“Sherlock, stop winding your brother up and just take the case.” John replies in exasperation, looking pointedly at the younger man.

“Fine.” The younger brother sighs, rolling his eyes.

Mycroft barely suppresses the urge to breathe a sigh of relief before dropping the folder on the table and throwing a grateful look to John.

Sherlock picks up the file and scans it quickly, “I can’t possibly prove this man's innocence.”

“I don’t expect you to, Sherlock.” Mycroft replies with a knowing smile, turning and exiting the kitchen.

John looks after the older Holmes before moving to Sherlock’s side to read the contents of the folder; his eyebrows rising to his forehead as he sees what they’re going to be dealing with.

Chapter Text

It takes Sherlock five days to deal with the case his brother handed to him. Five days to prove that a certain man with substantial power is guilty of both espionage and murder.

Neither Sherlock or John knows what happens to this man after being found guilty but the younger Holmes has a pretty vague idea about the consequences.

But of course, five days working a case means that Sherlock’s plans to organise a day trip for the pair and Harriet had to be put on hold.

The following week, Sherlock contacts Kate and asks her about taking Harriet out for a day and what that would entail.

“Supervision would be required, Mr Holmes.”

“Ah. I see. That won't be a problem, Kate. When would we be able to arrange that?”

“Well, our next appointment is tomorrow so we can discuss it further then.”

“Thank you. We'll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes, you will, Mr Holmes. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Kate.”

Sherlock smiles as he ends the call and pockets his mobile as John enters the living room.

“What have you done?” John asks suspiciously, eyeing Sherlock’s grin with amusement.

“Kate is going to discuss with us about taking Harriet out for a day trip at our appointment tomorrow.” Sherlock replies, practically bouncing where he stands.

“That's great, Sher. I'm glad you're taking some initiative.”

“Yes, well. I'm hoping we can take her somewhere this weekend.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, love. We’ll talk with Kate tomorrow but it might be a couple of weeks before we can take her out for a day.”

“Yes, of course.” Sherlock replies in a disappointed tone.

“But who knows, love. We’ll see what Kate says.” John replies with a soft smile causing the younger man to smile back hopefully.

John kisses Sherlock’s cheek, before turning and heading for the kitchen to makes two teas.

Sherlock watches him go, a fond look on his face for the man he loves.

x.. x

“Hello, John, Sherlock.” Kate greets with a smile. “Step into my office.”

“Hi, Kate. Come on, Sherlock.” John smiles, grabbing his partner’s hand to prevent him from wandering away again.

Sherlock rolls his eyes at his partner; knowing exactly what he’s doing but allows himself to be pulled into Kate’s office.

“I love you, you daft sod.” John whispers in his ear with a smirk, kissing his cheek.

Sherlock smiles back at his doctor; turning him around to face him and leaning in to kiss him properly, whispering as he pulls away “I love too, John.”

John’s face goes soft, appreciating how affectionate Sherlock is being despite struggling with his own emotions.

John turns back towards the door, pulling a willing Sherlock along with him and into Kate’s office.

“So let’s get started shall we?” Kate smiles at the pair, completely unfazed by their little scene outside.

The meeting goes on as usual; Kate updating the pair on Harriet's progress and the progress of their application before she gives them the news about the day trip.

John is practically bursting with joy when Kate tells them that; yes, they can take Harriet out for a day trip but it must be supervised by one of the staff.

“As you’ve both had a background check and are clear of any crimes, we can start the paperwork for the day trip right now.”

“That’s great news.” John beams, looking over at Sherlock; who looks just as excited.

“It will take a couple of days to sort out but should be ready by Friday. Which means you can take Harriet out on Saturday. If you could both just sign here.” Kate replies with a smile, pointing to the relevant part of the contract.

The pair sign their names and hand the form back to Kate; who quickly signs her own name at the bottom of the form.

“Now, I have to go and check which carers are working on Saturday and who will be available to supervise the day out. I’ll be right back.” Kate says brightly, standing up and heading out of the office.

John turns to look at his partner with a smile, “So good news, eh?”

“Indeed, John.” Sherlock replies with a smile, leaning in to kiss John’s cheek.

Kate returns fifteen minutes later with a man who John estimates is in his thirties.

The man is taller than John with dark brown hair and brown eyes. He has a kind smile which quickly gets John’s attention, as well as the fact that it’s hard to deny how handsome he is.

Sherlock scowls at his partner’s obvious admiring of the newcomer, even going so far as to pinch him in the leg as punishment for staring.

John gives his partner an apologetic look, leaning in to kiss his cheek to emphasis his apology. Sherlock seems to soften at the gesture and even deduces that the man obviously gets attention very often.

“Gentlemen, this is Fraser Willows. He’s one of our senior carers and has been with us for ten years now. He has offered to supervise the day trip on Saturday.” Kate introduces the man with a fond smile.

“Hello, it’s a pleasure to meet you both.” Fraser smiles, holding a hand out for John to shake.

“Like wise. I’m John and this is my partner Sherlock.” John introduces, shaking the man’s hand.

“Yes, I’ve heard about you both. You’re the famous duo. It’s wonderful to know you’d like to adopt from our orphanage. Kate does such a brilliant job here. It’s a pleasure to be a part of it.” Fraser says with a soft smile, his genuine love for the job obvious to the pair.

Kate smiles shyly in response to the praise, patting Fraser’s arm gently in appreciation.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to be adopting from such a lovely place.” John replies brightly.

“Yes, well, when you two have finished.” Sherlock snaps, clearly not liking the newcomer or the apparent ‘threat’ to his relationship.

“Its not like that, love.” John whispers gently, stroking Sherlock’s knee.

“I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I just carry on talking once a conversation has started. I didn’t mean to push you out of it, Mr Holmes.” Fraser responds apologetically, a blush creeping across his cheeks.

The sweetness of the man makes him more annoying to Sherlock but he offers him a convincing kind smile in return anyway. Clearly the man is just too nice for his own good and while it annoys Sherlock, he knows that John appreciates when Sherlock is nice to other people.

“No apology necessary, Fraser. And please call me Sherlock. I believe I owe you an apology for my rudeness. I forget that John is the more social one out of the pair of us.”

“That’s alright. I was a little socially awkward myself as a child. It took me a long time to come to terms with ‘social conventions’. “ Fraser replies with a smile.

And despite himself, Sherlock finds himself smiling back in return.

Clearly he’s not as annoying as I first thought.

“Anyway now that all the formality is put of the way. Shall we go tell Harriet the good news?” Kate says with a nod of her head. 

“Yes, let’s.”

Chapter Text

John's still smiling as he and Sherlock leave the orphanage and head home; Harriet's excitement at going out with the pair still filling him with a pleasant buzz.

Sherlock looks over at his partner and smiles fondly, wondering what his parents will say when he tells them he has a partner and a child.

Don't get ahead of yourself, Sherlock. First, you have to get through Saturday with the girl.

“Did you see her face, Sher? She looked at us like we were the best Christmas present she's ever received!” John says with a grin.

“Yes, John. I did. As I've told you twice already.” Sherlock replies, unable to suppress the grin that crosses his face.

John stops dead in the middle of the street, trying to control the rush of emotions he's feeling by taking slow breaths.

“Sorry. I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I?” He asks softly, his smile dropping and a blush creeping up his cheeks.

Sherlock turns to look back at his partner, walking towards him and immediately running his hand through John's hair.

“You're not the only one, John. In all honesty, I never thought I'd be the kind of man to do all the … sentimental things that ordinary people do. But with you, I … I find I quite enjoy it. I'm already looking forward to telling my parents I have a child. And a partner, of course.” Sherlock replies with a gentle smile, leaning in to kiss his partner.

“You're a wonder, Sherlock Holmes.” John sighs, resting his hand on the detective's hip.

“As always, John, you see but you do not observe. For in actual fact, you are a wonder. Not me.”

John looks up at his best friend and partner, wondering what he had done to deserve such a brilliant and wonderful man that he can call his own.

Sherlock observes the play of emotions across the doctor's face and leans in to kiss his forehead.

“Let's go home, John.” He smiles, slipping his hand into John's.

John smiles in response, allowing Sherlock to lead the way as always; knowing that wherever his partner goes so will he.

Saturday

John is awoken by the sound of banging and cursing that seems to be coming from Sherlock's wardrobe.

“Sherlock, what the bloody hell are you doing? It's … six am! We're meeting Harriet and Fraser at nine-thirty!”

“Yes, I know, John. That's why I woke up early. I have to find the right outfit.” Sherlock replies, continuing to rummage through his wardrobe.

“Really? You woke up early to find an outfit? For the love of … Just wear what you usually wear, Sherlock.” John sighs, burying his face in his pillow.

“I can't, John! I need to look … what's the word when you want to look happy to see people? Nice? Kind? No, it's not that ...”

“Friendly, Sherlock! The word you're looking for is friendly!” John snaps back, trying to ignore his partner and go back to sleep.

“Exactly, John! I need to look friendly. Like the type of person you'd actually like.”

John rolls his eyes and resigns himself to knowing he won't be able to sleep until he helps his partner.

“Sherlock, Harriet is a child. You can't fake friendly with children. They know when you're lying ...”

“I'm not trying to fake it, John. I want to seem more friendly so I don't scare Harriet away.” Sherlock cries in frustration.

John climbs out of bed, walking over to his partner and wrapping his arms around his waist; Sherlock is practically shaking with nervous energy and trying to slow his racing heartbeat down.

The ex-army doctor holds him in his arms as Sherlock starts to relax and he slowly melts into the embrace.

“Listen to me you mad genius, you are brilliant with children. I've seen it. Harriet will love you, even with all your mad genius antics.” John says into his partner's shoulder, giving the detective a reassuring squeeze.

“You really think so?” Sherlock whispers softly, clasping John's hands on his waist.

“I don't think, I know she will, Sher. Because she'll see what I see in you. What I've always seen.”

Sherlock smiles and turns in his doctor's arms; wrapping his arms around his shoulders and kissing his hair.

“Now, Detective Holmes, I think it's time to get some more sleep. We have a big day ahead of us.”

“That we do, Doctor Watson.”

x..x

The pair arrive at the park just before 9.30am to find Fraser and Harriet feeding ducks by the pond.

“Ah, gentleman, hello. Me and Harriet arrived a bit early so we decided to feed the ducks, didn't we, Harriet?” Fraser greets with a smile, shaking each man's hand in turn.

“Sorry, I was a bit excited for our day together.” Harriet replies sheepishly, looking down at the ground.

“There's no need to apologise, Harriet. I'm sure we can stay and feed the ducks for a while, can't we, John?” Sherlock replies with a smile, ruffling the girl's hair.

“Of course we can. Whatever you want to do, sweetheart.” John agrees, holding his hand out for Harriet to take.

Harriet smiles shyly and grabs John's hand tightly before immediately reaching for Sherlock's hand too.

Sherlock's lips quirk up in a small smile as he holds the girl's small hand in his own before she tugs them closer to the pond.

Fraser gives John a knowing smile and hands him the bag of bread, before stepping behind the three of them to give them some semblance of privacy.

“So this one is called Daffney, and then there's Bert over there. That's Bill, he pretty much stays over there ...” Harriet informs the pair, motioning to each duck without actually letting go of their hands.

John smiles as the little girl continues to name each duck and tell them different things she's learnt about each of them.

A few hours later, John and Sherlock walk hand in hand through the park as Harriet runs ahead of them picking flowers as she goes. Fraser has taken to staying about four feet behind them as he supervises and observes the day's progress.

“Fraser.” Sherlock says as he stops and turns to look at the other man.

“Yes?” Fraser asks with a smile, catching up to the pair.

“Does Harriet have a favourite food or meal?”

“Well, yes, she does. Her favourite meal is Spaghetti Bolognaise.”

Sherlock's eyes light up as he has a thought and John smiles knowingly at his partner.

“Angelo's?” The detective asks the ex-army doctor with a grin.

“Angelo's.” John agrees, grinning along with Sherlock.

A look of confusion passes across Fraser's face before realisation dawns on him.

“Are you talking about Tapas Brindisa round the corner?” The man asks curiously, pointing behind him in the direction of Angelo's.

Now Sherlock looks confused and gives John a questioning look, to which the older man replies with a grin, “Yes, that's the one. Ignore him, he's always called it Angelo's after the owner.”

“Is that what it's called?” Sherlock asks in genuine confusion.

“Yes, Sherlock. The name on the front is hard to miss.” John giggles, shaking his head at his partner.

“I prefer Angelo's.” Sherlock replies, looking back over at Harriet.

John rolls his eyes fondly before saying, “Fraser, would you and Harriet care to join us for dinner?”

“I suppose I can call Kate and tell her that Harriet will be eating before we go back.” Fraser replies, pulling out his mobile to call the Governess.

The ex-army doctor smiles and nudges his partner gently, “Let's go tell her the good news.”

“Yes, let's.” Sherlock replies with a soft smile, pulling John along as he heads over to the girl.

“Harriet, it's time to go.” Sherlock says by way of greeting, holding his hand out for the girl.

“Already? But … but ...” Harriet stammers, her bottom lip pouting.

“Don't worry, Harriet. We're going for dinner. Fraser is telling Kate now.” John says with a smile.

“Really? That's brilliant.” Harriet exclaims, grabbing each man's hand and pulling them back over to Fraser.

“Ah, you're back. I take it that means you're ready to go?” Fraser asks with a smile, noticing the beaming smile on the child's face.

“Let's go!” Harriet exclaims excitedly, urging the three men to move.

x..x

They arrive at Angelo's twenty minutes later and are greeted by the man himself.

“Sherlock. John. My favourite customers. Come sit. Anything you want, on the house.” The man beams at them, directing them to a table.

“Angelo, we've told you before, we can pay you for a meal.” John laughs, just barely able to keep hold of Sherlock's hand as Angelo pulls him towards the table.

“I know. But for my best customers, meal is on the house.” The Italian man grins, handing them menus.

John and Sherlock chuckle at the man, shaking their heads in disbelief as Harriet and Fraser look confused.

“Who is this? Client?” Angelo asks, pointing towards Fraser.

“No, this is Fraser. He's a carer at the local orphanage.” John informs Angelo with a smile.

“Oh, looking to start a family, eh? Just the one or lots of little children?” Angelo asks with a big smile.

“Um, well, we're not sure yet.” John stutters, wondering why he didn't just say Fraser was a client.

Sherlock gives John with an amused expression so the doctor subtly kicks him under the table, causing Sherlock to glare at him.

“Ah, I see. Angelo's big mouth. Apologies, gentlemen and young lady.” Angelo replies, giving Harriet a little bow.

Harriet giggles in response, completely oblivious to the silent exchange going on between John and Sherlock.

“I will leave you to order.” The man smiles, walking away to greet another customer.

“Do you really get everything for free?” Harriet asks in awe, looking over at the pair.

“Well, not everything. Angelo just does us a special deal ...” John replies, smiling at Harriet.

“Why?”

“I got him off a murder charge and proved ...”

“Sherlock! You can't tell her that.” John cries in shock.

“Why not? You love that story.” Sherlock asks, completely oblivious.

“Yes, I do. But Harriet is a child, Sherlock. You can't be telling her about murders and other things at her age.”

“John, may I speak with you privately?” Sherlock asks, standing up and leaving no room for argument.

“Fine. Fraser, please tell Angelo me and Sherlock will have our usual. You and Harriet are free to order whatever you like.” John replies, forcing a smile as he goes after Sherlock.

Outside, Sherlock is already pacing and that immediately concerns John.

“Alright, what is it?” The ex-army doctor asks calmly, waiting for the younger man to stop pacing.

“John, you realise that when we adopt Harriet, she will hear about our cases and know what's going on. There's no reason to hide it from her.”

“First of all, if we adopt Harriet. We don't know if we can yet. And secondly, yes, she will, but that doesn't mean we should drop that all on her right now.”

Sherlock stops to think about this for a few moments, weighing the pros and cons of informing the child before actually adopting her.

“You're right, John. Our cases are stories for another day.” Sherlock sighs softly, giving John a smile.

“Let's go eat, love. Harry will have to go back before it gets too late.” John replies with a reassuring smile, holding his hand out for his partner.

The detective nods in agreement, taking John's hand and allowing himself to be lead back through the door and to the table.

“Sorry about that, guys. He loves his work and what he can do for people.” John informs them proudly, sitting back down at the table.

Fraser nods in understanding and replies, “Well, it is brilliant work you both do; solving crimes and catching criminals. It must be very exciting.”

“Oh, it's definitely … exciting. That's one word for it.” John replies unsurely, giving Fraser a smirk.

“So are you going to say how he got the nice man off a murder charge?” Harriet jumps in excitedly, her food sitting untouched while she listens intently.

“Not tonight, I'm afraid, Harriet. But maybe another time.” John smiles, motioning for the girl to keep eating.

“Really? You mean it?”

“Well, if it's alright with Kate and Fraser then I'm sure another day out can be arranged?” Sherlock asks, directing the question at Fraser.

“I'm sure we can work something out.” Fraser smiles reassuringly, continuing to eat his own food.

The four of them eat the rest of their meals in comfortable silence; with the exception of Harriet's content noises as she slurps her spaghetti off her plate which causes the three men to grin at each other.

“Well, unfortunately it's time to go, Harry. But I'll speak to Kate about another day out.” Fraser says, helping the girl put on her coat.

“Are you amenable to walking back to our flat and we shall call you a taxi from there?” Sherlock asks hopefully, clearly wanting more time with Harriet.

“I suppose that could be managed, seeing as your flat isn't far from here.” The carer grins, noticing Harriet's beaming smile of agreement.

“Off we go then.” John replies, grabbing Sherlock's hand and leading them out onto the street.

As they walk back, Harriet talks more about the friends she's made at the orphanage and all the children that have been and gone since she arrived.

John and Sherlock listen intently, the detective even tells her about the friends he's made over the years and how he met John. The little girl listens carefully, asking questions for more details and John is content to listen to the two of them talk so happily.

The ex-army doctor steps back to talk to Fraser while Sherlock and Harriet are busy chatting between themselves.

“So I assume she's not always this talkative?” John asks with a grin.

“Not usually, no. But in all honesty, you're the first people outside of the orphanage to properly engage with her so it's no surprise that she's coming out of herself more.”

“She's a great kid. I think Sherlock is smitten with her already. But then again, he's always been great with kids.” John smiles, watching as Sherlock allows Harriet to climb on his back for a piggy back.

“I can see that. You're not so bad with her yourself, if I might say so.”

“Um, thanks. I'm trying to be. I mean I have an older sister but I've never looked after kids before.”

“Well, it isn't easy. But nothing ever is. All that matters is providing a good, stable home for her where you will always love and protect her. The rest will come with time.”

“Yeah, I suppose it will. Thanks, Fraser.”

“You forget, John, my job isn't just to support the children but also the parents too.” Fraser replies with a smile.

Before John can answer, Sherlock calls his name and he sees the car outside their flat.

“Ah, work calls. Well, at least it's time for you and Harriet to go back anyway.”

“Of course. No rest for the wicked. As I will probably be chaperoning the next visit and no doubt be your social worker for the adoption, I will give you my number. Feel free to call any time to ask any questions you may have.” Fraser replies, pulling out a card with his name and number on it.

“Thank you, Fraser. We will.”

They catch up to Sherlock, Harriet and Lestrade just as the D.I is about to inform them of the latest case.

“We'll discuss it upstairs, Lestrade.” Sherlock says, motioning the D.I inside. “I'm afraid it's time for me and John to say goodbye now, Harriet. But I'm sure we'll see you again soon.”

“Did you enjoy your day out, Harriet?” John asks softly, ruffling the girl's hair.

“It was great! Thank you, Daddy!” Harriet exclaims, throwing her arms around John tightly.

“Oh. Um.” John stammers, trying to gather his thoughts.

He looks over at Sherlock; the look on his face makes John's heart sing and his eyes water, Sherlock is looking at the pair as though he sees his whole future right there.

“What's wrong? Did I do something wrong?” Harriet asks sadly, starting to whimper as tears run down her face.

“N-no. No. Harriet, you haven't done anything wrong. Come here.” John replies softly, pulling the little girl back into his arms. “It's okay. Everything's okay.”

“You don't want me, do you?” Harriet sobs into John's shoulder.

“Of course we do, Harriet. More than anything.” Sherlock replies, stroking the girl's hair tenderly.

“There's a lot of things we need to do before you can join our family, Harriet. And some of it can take a lot of time. We all have to be patient, sweetheart.” John says carefully, wiping away the girl's tears.

“Okay. I understand.” Harriet replies confidently, hugging both John and Sherlock.

“For now, it's time for you to go back with Fraser and we'll arrange another visit soon. I promise.” John says with a smile, stepping back so Fraser can grab her hand. “I'll call a taxi.”

“I'll … um, go and see Lestrade about the case.” Sherlock replies awkwardly, clearly not wanting to say goodbye to the girl.

“Alright, love. I'll be there soon.”

Chapter Text

The cab pulls away and John walks into 221 slowly; thoughts spinning around in his head.

“So, um, cute kid.” Lestrade says awkwardly as John enters the room.

“Yeah, she is. Anyway, what's this case then?” John replies, clearly wanting to change the subject.

Lestrade takes the hint and clears his throat, “Yes, well, it's an unusual one.”

“Go on.” Sherlock says, leaning forward expectantly.

“Well, you see, most the evidence points to a suicide ...”

“But you don't believe that.” Sherlock interrupts, hands pressed together in his usual prayer like motion.

“No. Listen, it would be better if you saw the crime scene. Come on.” Lestrade replies, getting up off the couch and grabbing the folder.

Sherlock nods in response, looking over at John for confirmation; who nods in agreement and gives him a small reassuring smile.

“The game is on." Sherlock replies with a smile.

The three men head down the stairs and Sherlock immediately hails down a cab as Lestrade climbs into his car.

It takes twenty minutes to arrive at the crime scene and Sherlock immediately groans out loud.

"Anderson." He says by way of response to John's quizzical look.

"Ah." John replies with a rueful smile.

"And here's the freak." Sally remarks as the two men step out of the cab.

John quickly pays the driver and follows Sherlock to the crime scene.

"Ah, Sally, always a pleasure." Sherlock drawls with fake enthusiasm and an even faker smile.

Sally scoffs in reply and leads them up to the second floor flat.

"As you can see officers had to break the door down." Lestrade informs them, pointing to the broken lock on the front door. "And here's where it get's interesting, every window is also locked from the inside."

John makes his way over to the body in the middle of the room.

"Gun shot wound to the right temple. Powder burns around the wound and shot at close range. Definitely points to self inflicted."

"Lestrade, you said 'most of the evidence' points to suicide so why don't you believe that?"

"As I said, all the windows were locked from the inside, just like the door was."

"Yes, yes, Lestrade, as you've pointed out, you've already said that. But why are you doubting it was suicide?" Sherlock asks impatiently, scanning the room for evidence.

A smile crosses Sherlock's features as he notices something very important about their male victim.

"You see it too, right, Sherlock?" Lestrade asks with a slight smile.

"Yes, obviously." Sherlock replies, practically grinning.

"See what?" John asks in confusion, looking around the room.

But just as Sherlock is about to spout off his deductions, John notices the tea cup on the table; the handle pointed to the left, which means ...

"Our victim was left handed." John announces, looking over at Sherlock for confirmation.

"Exactly, John. But the gun is in his right hand."

"So you see why I don't believe it was suicide." Lestrade replies, gesturing for Sherlock to continue his deductions.

Sherlock scans the room again and sees that everything definitely points to the victim being left handed, he, of course, takes the opportunity to show off.

"The top of his tablet is pointing to the right. The pen, on the left side of the notepad. Consistently uses the left power sockets."

"Deduction, Sherlock?" Lestrade asks with a hopeful smile.

"You were actually right, Lestrade. This is not a suicide. I'm sure you can handle narrowing down the suspects." Sherlock replies with confidence, sweeping out of the room.

Lestrade gives John an enquiring look, to which the ex-army doctor shrugs and follows after Sherlock.

"Sherlock. Wait, is that it?" Lestrade calls after the detective, following him down the stairs.

"Surely you don't need me to do your job for you, Lestrade. You're the one who realised it was murder, after all."

Lestrade struggles for a reply, not entirely sure if Sherlock is complimenting him or if he's just being an arse.

"Contact me if you have trouble narrowing down the suspects." Sherlock adds, without any sign of his usual sark or condescending tone.

"Right." Lestrade replies dumbfounded, surprised at Sherlock's response.

John gives him a slight nod as the D.I watches the pair leave and Lestrade gives him a nod in return before he walks back over to his team to notify them.

Sherlock hails a cab and the pair climb in, a companionable silence falling over the cab.

When they're nearly home, John breaks the silence.

“What you said to Lestrade, it was sweet, almost like you had confidence in him.”

“Of course I have confidence in him, John. He's not a complete idiot.”

John looks up in surprise and smiles softly at his partner, reaching over to lace his fingers with Sherlock's.

“The rest of his team, however, they are idiots.” He adds with a long suffering sigh.

“Ah, there he is.” John chuckles, sliding closer to Sherlock.

“There who is?” Sherlock asks in confusion.

“The man I fell in love with.” John replies with a soft smile, lifting their joined hands to kiss Sherlock's knuckles.

Sherlock's breath catches and he coughs to cover it up, turning his face away to grin to himself.

John giggles and tilts Sherlock's head back towards him.

“You forget, I know you too well, love. And I know you're trying so hard to be better. But I mean it, Sherlock, the man you are is the man I fell in love with. You're not perfect and there's things that need to be … adjusted, but you don't have to change into something you're not. I'll always love you just as you are.”

“Nobody's perfect.” Sherlock tries to snap but his voice comes out as a whisper as tears sting his eyes.

“I never said anyone was, sweetheart. I don't want perfect, I want you. I want this family we've made and the one we're making.” John replies sincerely, leaning in to kiss Sherlock.

And that's all it takes to break the detective as he lets out a choked sob and the tears fall down his face.

“I want to be better for you, John. I love you so much, I'd do anything ...” Sherlock whispers, pressing his forehead against John's.

“I know, sweetheart. Listen, we'll discuss this when we get inside.” John replies softly, kissing Sherlock's forehead before pulling away slightly.

The cab slows to a stop outside their flat and Sherlock looks out the window in confusion.

“How did you know …”

“I always know when I've come home.” John replies with a smile.

Sherlock looks over at his partner before pulling him into a passionate kiss that steals John's breath away.

The subtle cough from the cabbie is what forces them apart and John sheepishly hands over the fare as Sherlock chuckles to himself.

“Come on, you.” John grins, giving Sherlock a shove.

Sherlock's chuckles turn into child-like giggles as he opens the door and drags John out of the cab.

“You're ridiculous.” John sighs, failing to hold back a grin.

“Says the one who invaded Afghanistan.” Sherlock giggles, his cheeks now a lovely shade of pink.

“Says the one who pulls up his coat collar to look cool.” John replies, gigging along with Sherlock.

“You're the one who fell in love with a madman.” Sherlock grins playfully.

“Yeah, I did. And there's nothing ridiculous about that.” John replies with a soft smile.

“No, there's nothing ridiculous about falling in love with an adrenaline junkie either.” Sherlock whispers, pulling John close.

Suddenly, John feels overwhelmed with love for his detective as he remembers what he said to him a few weeks ago.

“Marry me.”

The words echo loud in his head as he looks up at his partner and best friend. Tomorrow he'll buy a ring and do it properly, like Sherlock deserves.

“John?” Sherlock asks in a concerned tone.

“Let's go home, love.” John replies with a smile, grabbing Sherlock hand and pulling him towards their front door.

Sherlock lets himself be lead, happy to go wherever John goes.

Chapter Text

John wakes up early the next morning and carefully gets out of bed to have a shower and get dressed. He kisses Sherlock's mess of curls, quickly scribbles a note and leaves it on the bedside table.

Gone to get shopping.

Will be back soon.

Love you.

John xxx

As he hails a cab to take him to the jewellers, John is left alone with his thoughts; What if Sherlock says no? Is it too fast? Then again they are planning on adopting a child so maybe they should have done this sooner …

“You alright, mate?” The cabbie asks in amusement, having heard John sigh … a lot.

“What? Oh, yeah, fine, mate.” John replies with a sheepish smile.

“Something on ya mind?” The cabbie asks curiously.

“Well, um, I'm planning on proposing but … I'm not sure if it's the right time.”

“Ah. Hey, hold up, you're that John Watson, right?” The cabbie asks as they slow to a stop at the traffic lights.

“Yeah, hi.” John smiles, giving a little wave.

The cabbie laughs in response, changing gears as the traffic starts moving again.

“Well, I'll tell you what, mate, anyone who's got eyes can tell ya that Sherlock Holmes is mad on ya. I remember hearing about when you ended up in that coma and he pretty much disappeared. Not gonna lie, mate, people thought he'd offed himself in grief … sorry.” The cabbie stops suddenly, looking apologetic.

“It's alright, mate. It's what you get when you know Sherlock Holmes … people talking I mean.”

“Yeah. But he's clever, isn't he? My wife thinks he's bloody brilliant. Better behave myself, eh?” The cabbie laughs and John actually laughs with him.

John thinks that's the end of the conversation until the cabbie speaks again.

“Honestly though, mate, if ya don't mind me sayin', I think you should do it. If you find someone who fits then you just gotta go for it. That's what my wife always says anyway. Still don't get what she sees in me but we've been married twenty seven years and she ain't got rid of me yet so must be doing something right.” The cabbie replies wistfully, smiling to himself.

“Cheers, mate. I needed that.” John smiles, feeling calmer.

“It's what us cabbies are good at, mate. Good at listening to everyone's problems. Kinda have to be when people spill their guts, metaphorically and literally speaking.”

John laughs, “The things you've probably seen and heard, I bet they make for interesting stories.”

“That they do. Oh, here we are, mate. Best jewellers in London and decent prices too. Can't go wrong here.”

“Cheers.” John replies, handing the fare over. “ And thanks for the chat, um ...”

“Dan.” The cabbie replies, clearly noticing that John was silently asking for his name.

“John.” John smiles, holding out a hand for Dan to shake which he does.

“Hope it goes well, John.” Dan replies genuinely, giving him a smile.

“Me too, Dan.” John laughs, climbing out of the cab and giving Dan a wave goodbye.

x..x

Back at Baker Street, Sherlock paces the room and mutters to himself.

“Careful, brother dear, I'm not sure Mrs Hudson could handle you dropping through her ceiling once you've worn a hole through the floor.”

Sherlock looks up to see his brother stood by the door to the living room.

“What?” Sherlock asks distractedly, stopping mid pace.

“Something's bothering you.” Mycroft says matter-of-factly, worry in his tone.

“Brilliant deduction, brother mine.” Sherlock snaps, rubbing his temples in frustration.

“Trouble in paradise? I can have him dealt with, with discretion obviously.”

“Shut up.” Sherlock snaps. “John's gone out 'shopping'.”

“Isn't that what he usually does, Sherlock? After all, you don't believe your fridge and cupboards refill themselves, do you?” Mycroft asks in confusion, looking his brother up and down.

Sherlock rolls his eyes at his brother and sighs.

“Not shopping, Mycroft. 'Shopping'.”

“There's a difference?” Mycroft asks, genuinely wondering if his little brother has finally lost his sanity.

“Of course there is. And all we require is milk! Why would John say 'shopping' and not just 'milk'?”

Sherlock groans and starts to pace again as Mycroft shakes his head and raises his eyes to the ceiling.

“Maybe you need more than milk, brother dear. Did you think to check the cupboards to ...” Mycroft asks, gracefully moving around Sherlock and heading to the kitchen.

Sherlock spins on his heels and follows after his brother.

“Of course I did, Mycroft. We have everything else, well, except biscuits but usually Mrs Hudson brings up home-made ones which are much better … no, he's shopping for something else.”

Mycroft moves away from the kitchen as Sherlock rants and sits himself in John's chair, propping his umbrella against the arm.

“It's not your birthday, is it? Or mine?” Sherlock asks, moving to stand in front of Mycroft.

“No, Sherlock. My birthday is in May and yours is in July, as you well know.” Mycroft sighs, eyeing his brother.

“And it's ...”

“March, Sherlock. Dear Lord, is this how you usually 'manage' when John is away?”

Sherlock sits down in his chair, glaring at his brother and the two share an intense staring contest until Sherlock apparently gets bored and looks away.

“There is something John could be shopping for. Something that ordinary humans do.” Mycroft says suddenly, twirling his umbrella against the arm of the chair.

“Like what? Oh, you think John is going to … why would you … No. You and Lestrade? Really, brother mine? You're going in for that sort of thing now?”

Sherlock scoffs but his eyes show a sort of hopefulness that doesn't go unnoticed by his ever observant older brother.

“Yes, Lestrade. And this from the man planning to adopt a child with his partner? Really, Sherlock, it should be no surprise to you that we've both found our … goldfish.”

Mycroft smirks when he sees his brother's expression look stricken but it quickly softens and he gets a contemplative look in his eyes. Then it's Mycroft who gets a contemplative look in his eyes and waits patiently for his brother's next words.

“Mm, well, I suppose you could do worse. At least he is competent. And I've been told people find him 'nice' to look at …” Sherlock trails off, looking up at the ceiling.

“Should I take that as your approval, brother dear?” Mycroft asks with a smirk, pride at his brother evident.

Sherlock heaves a long-suffering sigh and rolls his eyes, sitting back in his chair.

“If you must.” Sherlock eventually replies, “Purple.”

“Purple?” Mycroft asks in confusion, despite being used to Sherlock's random moments.

“If I'm to be your best man I want something purple on my suit.”

Mycroft actually gapes at his younger brother, his mind stalling as he tries to process what Sherlock is actually saying.

The older Holmes laughs out loud; the sound completely undignified and unexpected that the younger man jumps and stares in disbelief at his older brother.

“Well, wonders never cease.” Mycroft replies softly, in a rare moment of genuine emotion. “Duly noted. If he says yes, that is.”

“If.” Sherlock scoffs. “Seems you are less observant than you think, brother mine.”

“Mm, maybe.” Mycroft replies uncertainly, “Well, I must be going. Matters of national importance and the like.”

“Yes, of course.”

Mycroft stands and makes his way over to the door, stopping before looking back at his little brother.

“Do say yes, brother mine. You too could do much worse than Doctor Watson.”

Sherlock looks over and allows a small smile at his brother before Mycroft smiles back and leaves.

x..x

As the cab pulls up outside the flat, John gets out anxiously and takes a few calming breaths. He taps the pocket of his coat, hoping Sherlock will not only say yes but also that he likes the ring John has picked out for him.

As he makes his way to the door, his mobile chimes in his jeans pocket and he shifts the shopping bag to his other hand so he can dig it out of his pocket. He unlocks the phone and opens the message.

If we are correct in our deductions and you're planning on proposing to my brother, then you have my consent and best wishes, Doctor Watson. MH

John grins at his mobile, “Cheeky twat.” He mutters to himself, silently relieved Mycroft is okay with the idea.

“Wait, we?” The ex-army doctor asks in confusion.

'Shit, that means that …' He should have known, it's damn near impossible to keep anything from a Holmes, let alone two of them.

How is he supposed to surprise the detective now? Then again, if Sherlock and Mycroft know and neither of them have said or done something yet then maybe, just maybe …

John quickly sends a 'thank you' message back and shoves his phone back into his pocket. He pulls out his keys and slowly opens the door, waiting to hear either Sherlock's bellowing or his screeching violin.

When he hears neither, he quietly closes the door behind him and makes his way upstairs to the flat.

“Ah, John. Good, you're home. Productive day, was it?” Sherlock asks brightly, practically willing himself not to pace.

“Everything alright, love?” John asks nervously, now doubting himself.

“Yes, of course. Why wouldn't I be?”

“Sherlock, sit down, please.” John says carefully, noticing Sherlock's anxiety.

Sherlock does as he's told and sits down on the couch as John sits down next to him, putting the shopping down on the coffee table.

“I didn't want it to go like this but you'll either be disappointed if I don't or on edge until I do … so if you don't want to then that's okay, I understand but if you do then ...” John says slowly, trying not to spook Sherlock.

“Then what, John?”

“Well, I want to say I'd be the happiest man alive but that implies that I'm not already happy … which I am obviously. I'm so happy, Sherlock, more than happy with our relationship and …”

Sherlock interrupts John with a raised hand, realising the ex-army doctor is trying to reassure him but is also nervous about Sherlock's reaction.

“I hope you're going to propose better than that, John. It almost sounds like you expect me to say no.” Sherlock replies, faking annoyance.

“You seemed so on edge when I came in that I thought you might. And Mycroft texted me saying that you'd both deduced it.”

“Well, in fairness, Mycroft suggested it and it seemed to be the most logical conclusion.” Sherlock replies, practically snarling at the word 'suggested' as though it's personally offended him.

John laughs and runs a hand across his face, causing Sherlock to glare at him.

“You mean that I could have just kept quiet and it would have still be a surprise?” John giggles, his whole body shaking.

“It's hardly a surprise if I've deduced it, John.”

“And what if you'd both been wrong?” John asks with a grin.

“Impossible. I'm never wrong. Mycroft on the other hand.”

“Alright, I get it. No need for the petty sibling rivalry, love.”

Sherlock is about to reply with a sarky remark when he hears John move and looks over at his partner; who is down on one knee and holding out a ring.

“Sherlock Holmes, you mad, clever, brilliant idiot, will you marry me?”

Sherlock looks from John to the ring and back at John again, with tears in his eyes. John waits patiently for his answer and really shouldn't be surprised by what the younger man says next.

“Why on earth would you want to marry me? I've been informed that I'm the most insufferable prick anyone has ever met ...”

“That's true.” John agrees, nodding his head and grinning.

“I'm a sociopath and an ex-drug addict. I'm also rude and cruel ...”

“And you're the one person I want to spend the rest of my life with. You're my best friend and the man who not only saved my life but gave it back to me. Now, if you don't mind my bloody leg's killing me so I'd quite like an answer.” John replies, shifting uncomfortably.

“It's bloody psychosomatic, you idiot! I worked that out five minutes after meeting you! Just like I deduced that we'd get on well together!”

“Is that a yes?” John asks with a smirk.

“Of course it's a yes! I've never been able to get rid of you so what's the point in saying no?” Sherlock replies, his voice softening at the end.

John laughs and pulls Sherlock off the couch, as John shifts to a sitting position. The noise of surprise the detective makes only causes John to laugh harder as he pulls him into his arms.

“God, I love you, you bloody madman.” John giggles, pulling Sherlock's head down to kiss him.

The next sound Sherlock makes has a very different affect on John and the detective instinctively climbs into the older man's lap.

“How did I get so lucky?” John breathes, resting his forehead against Sherlock's.

“It is I who got lucky, John.” Sherlock replies, his hands running through John's hair as the older man closes his eyes

“Have I ever told you how glad I am that I met you?”

“Always.” Sherlock replies softly, kissing John's forehead.

“Til death do us part.” John replies, wrapping his arms around Sherlock.

“Til death do us part.”

Chapter Text

“Thank you, Daddy!'”

Harriet's voice rings in his head as he sleeps and the ex-army doctor tries not to let it get to him. The way a child; who’d suffered abuse and then been left at an orphanage waiting for a new family, could so easily call him ‘Daddy’ after only knowing him a matter of days. But of course, he’s already quite taken with the little girl and it's become obvious that so is Sherlock. Somehow, without either man realising it, this little girl who they still barely know has already wormed her way into both of their hearts and John can already imagine a life with Sherlock and Harriet. So instead of fighting it, he lets it happen. He lets himself dream of a life with the man he loves and the girl they’ve chosen to be their daughter.

John smiles in his sleep, unconsciously snuggling closer to ... to the empty space were his partner should be. Sighing to himself and thinking that Sherlock is already awake and no doubt in the middle of his next experiment, John rolls back over and continues to dream ...

“Wake up, John. Wake up!” Sherlock shouts enthusiastically, shaking the older man.

John rubs his eyes groggily, wondering what the hell is going on that’s got Sherlock so excited at 6am in the morning on a Saturday.

“What’s going on Sherlock?”

“Get up get up.” Sherlock replies, continuing to shake John.

“Alright, Sher. I’m up. Now, what the fuck is going on?”

John sits up in bed and looks over at his partner; who is currently bouncing with barely suppressed excitement. He smiles softly at the younger man and reaches out to grab his hand.

“What’s got you so excited, sweetheart? New case?” John giggles, pulling the man into his arms.

“No, better. Fraser called and said we can take Harriet out on another play date.” Sherlock replies excitedly, jumping back out of bed and disappearing into the kitchen.

John’s breath hitches in his throat and his eyes fill with tears, not only at the thought of seeing the little girl again but also Sherlock’s obvious joy at seeing her too.

Sherlock runs back into the room to grab John and stops dead when he sees the older man’s face.

“John? Is something wrong? You do want to see Harriet again, don’t you?” Sherlock asks nervously, his excitement now gone.

John snaps out of his thoughts and looks up at the younger man, quickly climbing out of bed to reassure him.

“Oh, sweetheart, of course I do. Ignore me, I’m just being a sentimental idiot.” John replies, pulling Sherlock in for a hug.

“Tell me, John.” Sherlock replies simply, resting his chin on John's head.

John sighs softly, “I was just overwhelmed by your reaction, that’s all. I thought we had a case but seeing you so excited to see Harriet, just made me emotional. You did nothing wrong, Sher.”

Sherlock smiles and kisses the top of John's head, before pulling back to look into his partner's eyes.

“She's very fond of you, that girl. She knows there’s something very special about you. I can’t wait to make this family with you, John.”

And just like that, John feels emotional all over again as he kisses this wonderful man he calls his partner.

“God, I love you, Sherlock Holmes.” John sighs breathlessly.

“I love you too, my dear Watson.” Sherlock replies with a soft smile.

x..x

Fraser meets up with the pair two days later with Harriet in tow; the girl all but dragging the carer into the park as she sees John and Sherlock. The younger man laughs softly and releases her hand so she can run into John and Sherlock’s arms.

“Hello you.” John smiles brightly, lifting the girl up and hugging her tightly.

“I missed you both so much.” Harriet replies, squeezing John tightly.

John’s breath catches at the admission and he buries his face in the little girl’s shoulder, feeling emotional again.

“We missed you too, Harriet.” Sherlock replies, wrapping his arms around the pair.

Fraser smiles at the three of them and waits patiently while they have their moment.

John lifts his head and seems to remember the carer's presence, clearing his throat and looking at the man apologetically.

“Sorry, Fraser. Got a little emotional there.” John replies, wiping his face with his sleeve and holding his hand out to the carer.

“No harm done.” Fraser smiles, reaching out to shake John’s hand.

“Good to see you again, Fraser.” Sherlock replies with a smile.

The younger man dips his head as a blush forms across his cheeks, “Thank you, Sherlock.”

“Can we feed the ducks again? Please?” Harriet interrupts, looking between John and Sherlock.

“Of course we can, Harry.” Sherlock smiles, as John puts her back down on her own two feet.

“Yay!” The girl shouts excitedly, snatching the bag of bread from Fraser's hand and starting to run off to the duck pond.

“No snatching, Harry. You could ask nicely, you know.” John chastises the little girl; who immediately looks back at Fraser apologetically.

“Sorry, Fraser.” She replies sadly, walking back over to hand him the bag of bread.

“It’s alright, Harriet. But John's right, its more polite to ask.” Fraser replies softly, ruffling the girl's hair. “Now just make sure you stay where we can see you.”

Harriet nods in in agreement and sets off for the duck pond, at a much slower pace.

Sherlock chuckles as he grabs John's hand and starts to pull him along.

“Don’t you start, Sherlock. I have enough dealing with your lack of social graces without having a little one with poor manners.”

This just makes Sherlock laugh even more as he pulls John into his arms and leans in to kiss him.

“You’re already acting like a father, John. And we haven’t even finalised the adoption yet. Harriet will be just fine.” Sherlock chuckles, kissing John's forehead.

“I was too harsh on her, wasn’t I? What if she decides she doesn’t want us to adopt her now because she thinks I’m always just going to tell her off? I shouldn’t have ...”

“Stop talking, John. Before you send yourself into a panic attack.” Sherlock replies seriously, lifting John's head up to look at him. “Children need discipline. You’re not going to be a terrible father because you’re teaching her manners and discipline. Calm down.”

“But ...”

Sherlock kisses the older man to cut off any more protests he may have, signalling that he’ll hear no more of John's panicked ramblings.

“Okay, you’re right, as always. Smart arse.” John replies, taking a deep breath and smiling at Sherlock.

“I know I am, my love.” Sherlock replies, grabbing John's hand and pulling him in the direction of the duck pond.

To her credit, Harriet is stood patiently by the duck pond when the three men finally make their way over but it’s obvious she’s barely containing her excitement as Fraser hands her the bag of bread with a smile.

“Thank you, Fraser.” She replies sweetly, immediately digging out pieces of bread for the ducks that have gathered at the water's edge.

John and Sherlock sit down on the nearby bench with Fraser, watching the little girl as she talks to the ducks she’s feeding and John's heart feels close to bursting watching her.

Sherlock wraps his arm around John and pulls him tight to his side.

“I know, my love.” Sherlock whispers into his partner’s hair, seemingly knowing what John is feeling.

John just snuggles closer and rests his hand on Sherlock’s knee in response.

They stay like that for another half an hour until Harriet has used up all the bread and fed all the ducks in the pond.

As she turns back to the three men, her stomach rumbles and she looks down shyly.

“Sounds like someone is ready for lunch.” John laughs, standing up and holding his hand out for the little girl.

“How about back to Baker Street? I’m sure Mrs Hudson will have already made some cookies by now.” Sherlock grins, holding his own hand out for Harriet.

“Cookies? With chocolate chips?” Harriet asks excitedly, grabbing both men's hands.

“Let's go find out, shall we?” Sherlock replies with a smile.

“Hurry, hurry.” Harriet shouts impatiently, pulling the men towards the park entrance.

The three men laugh at the little girl’s excitement as they make their way to Baker Street.

x..x

At the sound of her two boys returning home, Mrs Hudson bustles up the stairs with her freshly baked cookies.

“I thought I heard you boys come back.” She says fondly, placing the cookies down on the table. “And you must be Harriet, I’ve heard so much about you, dear.”

“Please can I have a cookie?” Harriet asks politely, smiling at the older woman.

"Of course you can, love. Help yourself.” Mrs Hudson smiles back, gesturing to the plate of cookies.

Harriet jumps up and begins devouring a cookie before Mrs Hudson has even finished her sentence and John laughs softly at the girl's enthusiasm.

“I’ll go make us something for lunch. Tea, coffee, Fraser?” John replies, hovering by the kitchen doorway.

“Tea would be lovely, thank you. Two sugars and just a splash of milk.” Fraser replies gratefully, settling down on the couch.

“Harriet, would you like some juice?”

“M,hm.” Harriet mumbles and nods around a mouth full of cookie.

“Coming right up.”

“I’ll help you, John.” Sherlock says, standing up and heading to the kitchen.

“Who are you and what have you done with Sherlock Holmes?” John asks in shock, receiving an eye roll from his partner.

“Very funny, John. Truly comical.” Sherlock replies dryly, ignoring his partner.

“Ah, there he is.” John grins, ruffling Sherlock’s curls.

The low purr the younger man makes in response takes John by surprise and when he looks at Sherlock, it’s clear he’s just as surprised by his own response. John half wishes they were alone so he could wind Sherlock up even more before fucking him senseless but that will have to wait while they have polite company present.

“That ... was gorgeous.” John whispers to his partner, grabbing his hip and pulling him closer. “But what I want to do to you will have to wait until later.”

“I’m trembling with anticipation, John.” Sherlock whispers back, his voice dropping lower.

John's eyes go wide and he has to suppress the whine coming up his throat at that voice.

“Boys, is everything okay in there?” Mrs Hudson calls from the living room, causing both men to spring apart from each other like guilty school boys.

“Yep, fine, Mrs Hudson.” John replies nervously.

“Absolutely splendid, Mrs Hudson.” Sherlock replies, causing John to giggle.

John quickly makes the drinks for everyone and carries them back into the living room; everyone thanking him and gratefully drinking their drinks before John heads back into the kitchen.

After grabbing what they will need, John and Sherlock set to work making lunch for everyone as they move gracefully around each other. Sherlock prepares the chicken breast pieces; cutting them into smaller pieces as John fills two pans with water; pouring pasta into one and sets them both on the cooker to boil. John then starts on the sauce; grabbing a large bowl, he pours in two jars of tomato sauce, chopped tomatoes and a few spoonfuls of tomato and basil pesto sauce before dipping a spoon in to test the taste. Sherlock, meanwhile, stands by and watches John work with an adoring smile.

“Try this for me?” John asks, holding the spoon out for Sherlock.

Sherlock walks over and opens his mouth obediently, letting John slip the spoon in his mouth before seeming to swish the sauce around his mouth to properly taste it.

“It’s missing something, isn’t it?” John asks, waiting for Sherlock's response.

“A bit of oregano should elevate the flavour. But otherwise it’s delicious, John.” Sherlock replies with a bright smile.

John blushes a little at the compliment but quickly turns away to hide it. They rarely have time to cook meals like this while working cases and after a case it’s usually eating out or take away food; depending on how tired they are.

Sherlock is about to saying something more when Mrs Hudson calls from the living room.

“Whatever you’re cooking smells delicious, dears.”

“It does indeed, Mrs Hudson.” Sherlock calls back, stepping up behind his partner and wrapping his arms around him.

“We’re lucky to have such a talented cook.” He whispers in John's ear.

“It’s just chicken pasta, Sherlock.” John laughs modestly, shaking his head at the younger man.

Sherlock bites back his reply and instead drops a kiss to John's head, moving away to check on the pasta and chicken.

After the chicken is cooked thoroughly, Sherlock pours oil in a pan and lightly fries the chicken, adding a little more tomato and basil pesto sauce so the flavour soaks into the chicken as it fries.

Once it’s finished frying, Sherlock adds the chicken to the sauce and then all that’s left to do it strain the pasta and mix it with the sauce.

John grabs bowls and forks for everyone and Sherlock pours some of the chicken pasta in each bowl before grabbing two of the bowls and carrying them into the living room.

“Fraser, Mrs Hudson.” Sherlock announces, handing them both their food.

“Thank you, Sherlock.” Fraser replies, setting his food down on the coffee table.

“Ooh, thank you, dear. My, pulling out all the stops today aren’t we, boys?” Mrs Hudson smiles, as she breathes in the smell of the food.

“It does smell good.” Fraser agrees, before trying a mouthful of the pasta. “Mm, tastes good too.” He adds with a smile.

John enters with two bowls and places one down on the desk for Harriet.

“Thank you. Mm, smells so good.” Harriet says, practically drooling at her food.

John laughs softly before handing the other bowl to Sherlock.

“Don’t be ridiculous, John, you cooked. Sit down and I’ll grab mine from the kitchen.” Sherlock replies, handing the bowl back to John before heading off to the kitchen.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” John calls, sitting down at the desk across from Harriet.

Mrs Hudson smiles fondly at her boys before continuing to eat.

After Sherlock returns with his food, the group eats in silence until John speaks.

“How’s your food, Harry?” He asks the little girl, smiling when he sees she’s nearly finished.

“Amazing.” She grins. “Can we have this every week when we are a family?”

John; who’s forkful of food was mere millimetres from his mouth, immediately stops dead and casts his gaze to Sherlock nervously.

“If that’s what you want, Harry, then of course we can.” Sherlock replies, smiling at the little girl.

“Yay!” She shouts excitedly, a huge grin on her face.

Before any more can be said, she dives out of her seat and carries her bowl to the kitchen.

John lowers his fork back to his plate and is about to stop eating the rest of his food when Sherlock interrupts him.

“Eat the rest of your food, John. You're going to set a bad example for Harriet.”

“But, Sherlock ...” John starts to argue, but the look Sherlock gives him stops him.

“You need to eat. Isn’t that what you always tell me?” Sherlock replies simply.

John sighs and rolls his eyes, but immediately continues eating.

”Stop fretting, dear. You’re doing great.” Mrs Hudson replies with a tender smile.

Fraser silently gets up and takes his own bowl and empty cup to the kitchen, giving the three of them some privacy.

“Are you okay there, Harriet?” Fraser laughs, watching as the girl tries to grab the washing up soap from the counter.

“I want to clean my plate.” She replies softly, still trying to grab the soap.

“That’s very kind of you, but washing up requires hot water and I’m afraid you’re just too little to wash the plates right now.”

“Oh.” She says sadly, her shoulders slumping.

“It’s alright.” He replies gently, patting the girls head. “How about we rinse them off so that they’re ready for a proper clean later?”

“Okay.” Harriet replies brightly, allowing Fraser to pick her up so she can reach the tap.

She turns the cold water tap on and uses the sponge to clean the sauce off the bowls before carefully stacking them in the sink.

When Fraser puts her down, the little girl seems much happier that she could help and quickly runs back into the living room for the rest of the bowls and cups.

x..x

After Fraser and Harriet go back to the orphanage, another case comes in, proving once again that the criminals of London never take a day off.  

Sherlock is excited, of course, and being his partner in detective work, John follows after his consulting detective to find the people responsible for the crime.

Running through the streets of London, John yet again marvels at how crazy his life has been since he met this mad detective, before laughing to himself because, honestly, he wouldn’t change it for the world.

Chapter Text

Four days later and two crimes solved, John and Sherlock head to the orphanage to see Harriet again. Almost as soon as they arrive, John's phone rings and he stops at the front door to answer it. He looks at the caller ID with curiosity, not used to having his sister call him randomly but answers the call anyway. Sherlock, noticing his partner has stopped walking, turns to look at him with a questioning look and then rolls his eyes when John speaks.

“Hi, Harry. Is everything alright?” John asks in concern, giving Sherlock a warning look.

The younger man rolls his eyes as John makes a shooing motion with his hand, slowly pacing the hallway.

“Of course it is, little brother. I was just wondering if you and Sherlock wanted to come round. Caden wants to see you.” Harry replies brightly.

“Um ... Sure. What time?”

“Can you be round in an hour? Oh, and Caden was wondering if he could see Harriet.”

“Well, me and Sherlock are at the orphanage now so I can ask Kate if we can take her out for a bit. But no promises, Harry. I’ll let you know what happens.”

“Of course, Johnny. I won’t say anything to Caden yet. See ya soon.”

“Bye, Harry.”

“John?” Sherlock asks, quirking an eyebrow at the older man.

“Harry wants us to go around for lunch but … Caden wants to see Harriet.” John says carefully, chewing his bottom lip with worry.

“Well, we can ask Kate if we can take Harriet out today.”

“I’m just not sure we can just take her out without notice.”

“Well, there’s only one way to find out. Kate!” Sherlock shouts, catching the Governess’ attention.

“Is everything alright, gentlemen?” Kate asks with a bright smile.

“Yeah, um, Harry wants me and Sherlock to go around for lunch. She says that Caden wants to see Harriet. We were just wondering if we would be able to take her out for the day?” John replies cautiously, not wanting to risk all the progress they’ve made with the adoption process.

“Aww, well isn't that lovely. It’s nice to spend some time with family. Well, I suppose we can use this as a trial for you both and I can authorise a day release form for her. But she will be your responsibility, gentlemen. If anything happens ...” Kate warns seriously.

“We understand. We'll take good care of her, I promise.”

“Then let me just check that Fraser is available to pick her up. I’ll also need consent from Miss Watson for Harriet to be picked up at her address.” Kate replies, checking her watch.

“Of course. Thank you, Kate.” John replies, taking a sigh of relief.

Kate gives him a sharp nod before heading off to the staff room. John pulls out his mobile and sends a quick text to his sister about consent and he receives a reply almost immediately, smiling to himself. Sherlock watches his partner and, while the prospect of meeting John's sister again doesn't fill him with joy, he knows to keep his mouth shut because John is happy and that's all that matters.

Kate walks back around the corner a few minutes later, Harriet's hand tightly clasped in her own and Harriet's bear snuggled into the girl's chest. The governess hands the papers over to the pair and John notices that Kate and Fraser's signatures are already scrawled at the bottom of the page.

“Just sign here, gentleman.” Kate says, pointing to the empty space on the page.

The pair quickly sign it and hand it back to Kate with a smile as the woman gently directs the child towards them.

“Thank you.” John replies, holding his hand out for the girl.

“Where are we going?” Harriet asks nervously, fiddling with her bear's ears.

“We're going to see my sister Harry. She and her girlfriend adopted Caden.” John replies with a smile.

Harriet's eyes light up at the mention of Caden and she jumps into John's arms, hugging him tight. He laughs softly and hugs the girl back, catching Sherlock's warm smile and the look of adoration in his eyes. The warmth John feels in his chest is overwhelming and his ducks his head shyly at the intensity of love he feels for the younger man. Sherlock warm smile turns into a smirk as he watches John's reaction, knowing that the older man appreciates when Sherlock doesn't hide his emotions anymore.

“Thank you, John and Sherlock.”

“You're welcome, sweetheart.” John grins, squeezing Harriet tightly before letting her go.

The child hands her bear to Sherlock and once the younger man accepts it, she immediately grabs his hand and then John's, smiling at the pair of them. John smiles back as the walk back to the entrance and out the door of the orphanage.

A black cab pulls up at the kerb a few minutes later and they all climb in, John fastening Harriet's seatbelt as they head off across London to his sister's house. Harriet looks out of the window at the streets they pass and John watches her, wondering what she's thinking about as she gazes at the houses and shops that pass by. He feels Sherlock reach over to hold his hand and John sighs softly to himself.

This what family should feel like. He thinks to himself, settling back into his seat contently and watching the world go by through the cab window.

He slips into his own thoughts as their journey continues and the silence that falls over the car is comfortable and relaxed, they don't have to make small talk because it isn't necessary.

“Come on then, we're here.” John says with a smile, as the cab pulls up outside the house.

Harriet bounces in her seat as Sherlock opens the cab door and climbs out, before the little girl runs up the steps to Harry's house. John and Sherlock smile to themselves as the ex-army doctor knocks on the door, his sister opening it a few moments later with a bright smile.

“Well, who's this then?” Harry asks sweetly, looking down at the little girl.

“This is your name sake Harriet.” John grins at his sister.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Harriet. Caden's been talking non-stop about you. He's missed you so much.”

“Please can I see him?” Little Harriet asks softly.

“Of course you can, sweetie. He's just through there.” Harry replies, pointing behind her at the living room.

“Thank you.” Harriet beams, running past Harry and straight to Caden.

Caden's face lights up when he sees his friend and he immediately hugs her tightly. Harry directs Sherlock and John into the living room where there’s the sound of a children's cartoon playing on the tv.

After official introductions, and thankfully no more comments from Sherlock about Harry, or Harry and Clara's relationship in the past, the three of them sit down and get comfy.

“No Clara?” John asks curiously.

“She doesn’t get off work until five so it’s just us.”

John nods in response and settles further into the couch.

“So.”

“So what, Harry?” John asks suspiciously, wondering what to expect with his sister.

“She's sweet.”

“And?”

“And how's it been going with her?” Harry drops her voice to a whisper so Harriet doesn’t hear them.

“It's been going great, yeah. She’s a great kid.” John replies with a soft smile.

“So ... She’s the one then? The little new addition to your family?” Harry asks with a knowing smile.

“Well, obviously, Harriet. John was smitten with her from day one. As if we would even think of considering any other child now.” Sherlock snaps harshly, glaring at the woman.

“Sherlock, remember those social graces we talked about?” John asks with a forced calmness.

“But, John ...”

“Sherlock.” John warns, his Captain tone slipping in.

Sherlock's mouth immediately snaps shut and he swallows before looking back at Harry.

“It would seem I owe you and apology for my tone, Harriet.” The younger man replies, looking genuinely apologetic.

Harry looks from Sherlock to John and back again, trying not to smile as she looks the pair over. John’s back is ram-rod straight as he gives the younger man a warning look and Sherlock reaches out tentatively to John, his facial expression apologetic.

“Jeez, Johnny, you have him on a short leash, don’t you? Lighten up a bit. He’s clearly as passionate about this whole thing as you are, no need to correct him all the time.” The woman laughs, playfully nudging her little brother with her foot.

Both John and Sherlock stare at the woman in astonishment, wondering how she isn’t offended by what Sherlock said. She giggles even harder at their matching looks, nudging John again with her foot.

“Oh, don’t give me that look. I may not agree with some of the things he says but hell, at least he’s more honest than most people. It's probably why everyone thinks he’s such a dickhead, because he’s not afraid to say it as it is and he’s straight up about it.”

“Now, Harry, Sherlock knows I never have and never will try and change him, I just ... I ... she’s right. I’m sorry, Sherlock.” John replies, reaching out to grab his partner's hand.

“Oh, don’t go getting soft on me now, John Watson. The reason I’ve kept you around for so long is because you were never afraid to call me out on my mistakes and my rudeness. If you’re just going to be soft now then I’ll have to just find ...”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Sherlock Holmes. You’re rude and insufferable, sometimes you’re just god damn reckless but you can also be sweet and loving and the most gentle man I’ve ever met. You know I’m in love with every aspect of you so don’t you dare ...”

John is cut off mid rant by Sherlock kissing him, hard, as his hands fist the older man's jumper at his waist. John responds immediately, his hands cupping Sherlock's face and his fingers curling in the curls at the base of his neck.

“Alright, boys, calm down. There’s kids and a lesbian present. Let’s PG this show until you get home.” Harry laughs, covering her eyes jokingly.

The pair pull apart breathlessly and both immediately look sheepishly at Harry; who just laughs even more at them.

“Damn, you two really do have it bad for each other. When did you two last have sex because you’re both clearly in need of a good lay.”

“Harry!” John exclaims indignantly, looking around to make sure the children aren’t in ear shot.

“Well, if you’re offering to babysit, I’m sure me and John can do that and be back before Harriet needs to go back to the orphanage.” Sherlock replies with a grin.

“No, Sherlock. We're not getting my sister to babysit so you can have sex.” John replies, rolling his eyes.

“Ah, Johnny, ever the responsible adult.” Harry teases, smiling at her brother.

“Well, someone has to be.” John smirks.

x..x

“So, how did you enjoy your day out, sweetheart?” John asks, as they stand at the front door waiting for Fraser.

“It was great! Thank you so much! You’re the best daddies ever.” Harriet exclaims, throwing her arms around John and Sherlock tightly.

“Oh. Um.” John stammers, looking over at Sherlock.

Sherlock looks just as stunned as John and tries to formulate a response.

“You still want me, don’t you?” Harriet sobs into John's shoulder.

“Of course, we do, Harriet. I can assure you, there’s no doubt about that.” Sherlock replies, ruffling the girl's hair.

“Really?” Harriet asks softly.

“Absolutely, Harry.” John replies, giving the girl another hug.

“So I can be a part of your family?”

John feels tears well up in his eyes at Harriet's question and it only serves to prove how much they need this little girl.

“Yes.” John sobs brokenly, not wanting to let the little girl go.

“John, he’s here.” Sherlock replies softly, resting his hand on John's shoulder.

“Okay.” John replies, letting go of Harriet.

John looks up at Sherlock and sees tears in the younger man's eyes as he grabs Harriet's hand. The pair walk Harriet down the steps to meet Fraser at his car.

“Hey, Harriet. Did you have a good day?”

“It was great, Fraser. John and Sherlock are gonna be my new daddies.” Harriet replies excitedly, climbing into the car.

Fraser looks back at the two men and smiles softly.

“So you’ve made a decision then.” He says, and the two men swear they can see tears in his eyes too.

“Take care of our girl.” Sherlock says by way of an answer, grabbing John's hand.

“I’ll have Kate arranged the paper work and arrange meetings to your referees.” Fraser replies with a smile, climbing into his car and driving away.

‘Our girl.’ John thinks and doesn’t that just sound perfect

Chapter Text

Two days after spending an ungodly amount of Sherlock’s money on new furniture for John's old room upstairs in order to convert into a bedroom fit for a little girl, John's already spent the better half of the day scrubbing the bedrooms and bathrooms in 221B. Fraser is due to bring Harriet round in a few hours and John's utilitarian level of cleanliness he was taught in the army has reached the level of near sterilisation of the flat. Sherlock actually finds it quite charming that the ex-army doctor is fussing like a much younger and male Mrs Hudson, which just shows how much Sherlock has softened since John came into his life. It still makes Sherlock smile at how John acts when he's anxious or nervous about something. Most people do reckless things but John, sweet yet strong John, will obsessively clean up; rooms and people. Sherlock has no idea why he does it or when it started but it doesn't seem to matter much anymore as it's just another little quirk of John Watson.

“You've checked that there's no body parts in the fridge, right, Sherlock? And that all your experiments are away and out of reach? Fraser is bringing Harry round today and the place needs to look tidy.” John says anxiously, spraying disinfectant on the desk.

“Yes, I know, John. Putting the last one away now.” Sherlock sighs fondly, rolling his eyes as he carefully lifts one of the experiments into the top kitchen cupboard. “Then I'll just ...”

Sherlock stops dead as he steps into the living room and sees his partner furiously scrubbing their desk; giving the younger man a perfect view of John's arse as he bends over it.

“Just what, Sherlock?” John calls back, noting that his partner has been quiet for a few moments too long.

“John, what are you doing?” Sherlock asks with a smirk.

“What does it look like I'm doing? I'm cleaning the desk.” John sighs in exasperation, going back to scrubbing the desk.

“Yes, I can see that. But what has the desk done to you to deserve such aggressive treatment?” Sherlock asks, chuckling at his partner.

“Well, I don't know when I last cleaned it and who even knows if you've ever cleaned it so I'm making sure it's done properly.” John replies distractedly, looking the desk over critically.

Once he's deemed it thoroughly cleaned and disinfected, John arranges the paperwork back onto the desk; careful not to disrupt the chaotic order of his partner's notes and puts the cups in one corner of the desk. He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand as beads of sweat start to run down his face and looks the table over once more, his hands on his hips.

“Right, table done. Now, the bookshelf looks like it could do with some dusting but first, best clean the mantel and maybe move the ...” John says aloud, heading over to the fireplace.

His progress is interrupted by Sherlock as the younger man steps in front of him and grabs him by the shoulders. The ex-army doctor looks confused and then opens his mouth to argue but Sherlock interrupts him.

“Stop, come here.” Sherlock says gently, keeping hold of John.

“But, Sherlock, I need to make sure everywhere is clean. We have to make a good impression if we want to adopt Harry. We need them to see that we have a functioning home ...”

“Ssh, breathe. You always get like this when you're anxious. You forget that I know you too well, John.” Sherlock replies in amusement, pulling John into his arms.

John mumbles a remark into Sherlock's shoulder that is very much in the same tone as when he calls him a smart arse; causing the younger man to chuckle and kiss John's hair. Sherlock runs his hands through John's hair as he murmurs for him to just breath and calm down.

“A little dirt is expected in a home that's being lived in. And we are a functioning home, John. Yes, we solve cases and chase criminals all round London; of which we'll probably have to do less of now that we have a child but that doesn't mean we don't have a functioning home. You're right, as always, about needing to make a good impression. But we already have made a good impression with who we are and our references or they wouldn't be allowing us to keep Harriet for ten weeks. Fraser likes us and he said he'll be with us every step of the way as our social worker so the rest is all just making it official. Give yourself some credit, my love, you're doing a fantastic job.” Sherlock says gently, feeling his partner's tension start to ease.

“When did you get so wise, Sherlock Holmes?” John asks softly, looking up at the younger man.

“Oh, somewhere around the time an incredibly patient and handsome ex-army doctor became my partner in crime solving and taught me that it's okay to be a human being. And I managed to convince him to fall in love with me. Not entirely sure how I managed that really.” Sherlock replies fondly, smiling at his partner.

“Have I told you today how much I love you?” John asks affectionately, reaching up to stroke Sherlock's curls.

“Every day it is implied.” Sherlock replies, pulling John in for a kiss.

John's fingers tangle in Sherlock's curls as he pulls his head down to deepen the kiss, causing the younger man to moan and grip John tighter.

“Good?” John smirks, starting to kiss Sherlock's neck.

Sherlock moans and rests his hand on the back of John's head; holding him in place. He hears the ex-army doctor laugh softly against his neck and the vibration makes his knees weak.

“John.” Sherlock moans, trying to stop his knees from buckling.

John wraps his arms around Sherlock's waist and pulls him flush against his body to keep him up. Sherlock feels John's own reaction in his jeans as the older man runs his hand back through his curls and the younger man pulls him flush to his body.

“Oh God.” Sherlock moans louder, rubbing his hips against John.

As John twists his hand in Sherlock’s curls just tight enough to cause a sting of pain, Sherlock melts against his partner and seems to purr. The sound has John wanting to take Sherlock back to their room so he can take him apart slowly and have him screaming when he finally climaxes. It's one of John's favourite sounds that Sherlock makes when he’s so aroused like this and the ex-army doctor keeps finding new ways to make Sherlock do it just so he can hear it.

“You know, I think we might have a bit of time to have some fun before our girl arrives. What do you say we do something about this?” John says huskily, cupping Sherlock's erection through his trousers with his other hand.

Sherlock gasps and presses into John's hand, allowng his partner to manhandle and tease him slowly. John chuckles darkly, releasing his hold on Sherlock and grabbing the younger man's hand to pull him towards their bedroom. John opens the door and pulls the his partner into the bedroom before closing it behind them. As soon as the door closes, Sherlock pins his partner up against it and kisses him passionately; his hands grabbing John's hips as the older man moans softly. John tangles his fingers in Sherlock's curls again, pulling his hair gently as his other hand runs down the man's back to cup his arse and pull him closer. Fingers still in Sherlock's hair, John pulls the younger man's head back to kiss down his jaw and to his neck as Sherlock grinds himself against his partner.

“John.” Sherlock moans breathlessly, his fingers sneaking under John's jumper and shirt to stroke his skin.

John smiles into his partner's neck, unbuttoning Sherlock's shirt as he walks them both back towards their bed and pushes his partner down onto it. The look Sherlock gives John as the older man stands over him causes the older man to moan softly and quickly pull off his jumper and shirt. As John is about to climb on the bed, Sherlock sits up and puts a hand up to stop him.

“Don't stop there.” The younger man says with a smile, looking the older man up and down.

“Want a little strip tease, do you, love?” John replies with a smirk, reaching down to unbutton his jeans.

“I want you naked. If you want to give me a show while doing so then you're free to do so.” Sherlock replies with a smile, lying back down and settling back against the pillows to watch.

John grins and finishes undressing under Sherlock's watchful gaze before eyeing the younger man expectedly. The younger man quirks an eyebrow before rolling his eyes and getting up off the bed to undress as John climbs onto the bed.

“Slower.” John growls, stroking himself as he watches his partner.

Sherlock shivers under his partner's gaze and slows his hands down as he continues to undress himself. He pulls his shirt off slowly and despite what he says about his body just being ‘transport', whenever John looks at him like that, Sherlock wants to make a show of undressing in the most graceful way possible just to watch John's reaction to seeing him naked.

“Good boy.” John praises softly, reaching out a hand for Sherlock.

Sherlock ducks his head and smiles at the praise, grabbing John's hand and allowing the older man to pull him onto the bed. He climbs on top of John and feels their erections rub together, causing them both to moan at the contact.

“I need you.” Sherlock says desperately, leaning down to kiss John.

“I need you too, sweetheart. Roll over and pass me the lube.”

Sherlock flops onto his back, quickly fumbling for the lube and handing it to John. John pours the liquid onto his fingers and warms it up before bringing one digit down to Sherlock's hole and rubbing gently.

“That's it, baby. Just relax. I want to take this nice and slow.”

Whenever John wants to slowly make love to him, it always causes a warm sensation in Sherlock's chest that, if he has to name it, seems very much like sentiment and love. A small voice in his head says that he should hate it, but it's the feeling he has for John and because John is John, he could never hate anything about him.

John slowly pushes a finger past the tight ring of muscle and shudders at how good it feels to do this with Sherlock. Sherlock moans low in his throat and his head falls back against the pillows; his messy curls creating a halo around his head. John continues in this slow procedure until Sherlock gasps softly and reaches for his partner.

“John.”

“Alright, love.” John replies, understanding his partner perfectly.

He pours a generous amount of lube on himself before lining himself up with Sherlock's entrance and slowly pushing into Sherlock.

“I'll never get tired of being with you like this, sweetheart.” John says gently, looking down at Sherlock adoringly.

Sherlock moans as he cups John's face and pulls him in for a kiss. John keeps pushing in slowly until he's fully seated, before letting Sherlock's body adjust and relax fully. The younger man locks his ankles around John's as the older man moves, keeping his thrusts shallow and slow as he enjoys the feel of Sherlock's body around him and his soft, hitching moans. John begins a slow dance of thrusting in and out of Sherlock as his hands reach up to pin the younger man's hands over his head on the pillow. The action causes a hitching gasp to be pulled from the younger man's throat at the knowledge that he's completely at his partner's mercy and that only John can have him like this.

When John's knees slip on the sheets and cause him to push in a little more forcefully, Sherlock positively writhes and the sound ripped from his throat makes John moan loudly to the ceiling.

“Do that again.” Sherlock actually growls, shoving himself down more onto John's cock.

“Alright, love. Take it easy. You won't be able to walk for a week if you carry on like that.” John chastises in a doctor manner, stilling his movements and gripping the younger man's hips .

“I don't care, John. Do it.” Sherlock orders, slamming himself down harder.

John smiles a positively devious smile and rams hard into Sherlock, causing the younger man to buck off the bed and near scream.

“Behave … yourself … Sherlock … Holmes.” John warns dangerously, his thrusts punctuating every word.

Sherlock's moans only increase in volume as his legs shift to wrap around John's waist and he rides every one of his partner's sharp thrusts. Seemingly remembering that his hands are no longer pinned down and feeling oddly disappointed by this, Sherlock's hands clench and unclench on the pillow; trying to signal to his partner what he wants.

The ex-army doctor smirks at the action and reaches up to pin his partner's hands once again, smiling when the younger man gasps in obvious appreciation.

John leans in to whisper in his partner's ear, “Is that what you want, sweetheart? Do you like the feel of me pinning you down and being at my mercy?”

“Yes. Always. Only you, John.” Sherlock gasps, his back arching upwards.

John gives a gasping moan at the admission and buries his face in Sherlock's neck, just breathing the younger man in for a moment. A few more thrusts and Sherlock's spasming through his orgasm as John rides out the after shocks of it, feeling himself so close to the edge.

Then Sherlock says his name, almost like a prayer and a sin in one, and John is screaming helplessly as his orgasm tears through him; making him see stars. He flops onto Sherlock's chest as his breathing calms down and closes his eyes; too knackered to even move properly. Sherlock's hand comes up to play with his hair and a kiss joins the action on the crown of his head.

“Thank you.” Sherlock whispers, his voice as soft as a lullaby.

“Any time, love. Any time at all.” John breathes against Sherlock's collarbone, completely crashing from his high.

He suddenly remembers himself and gently pulls out of Sherlock, dropping back down on the bed beside the younger man. He looks over at Sherlock, admiring the flush of his sweaty skin and the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he breathes; smiling to himself that only he gets to see Sherlock like this.

“Didn't have you down as someone who'd like being pinned down. Although I shouldn't be surprised, you always have had a thing for my more dominant side.” John replies with a soft laugh, reaching over to stroke Sherlock's curls.

“Mmm, was I too obvious about my interest in that?” Sherlock asks faux-innocently, nuzzling into John's hand. “I have to say, that felt far more intense than when we've done it previously. I'd say a repeat is definitely needed. After all, an experiment has to be done multiple times to get accurate results.”

John laughs and rolls onto his side, “Did you just give me permission to explore some more kinky ways of having sex with you?”

“Well, obviously, John. Do keep up.”

“Mm, I guess we'll just have to keep experimenting, won't we?” John replies with a smirk, leaning up to kiss Sherlock.

“Mm, indeed.”

x..x

“So what happens next is that Harriet will be in your care for the next two to four weeks and after that four weeks, you'll get a visit from myself to assess how you're all getting on and how Harriet is doing. Now, as you know to apply for an adoption order, Harriet will have to be living with you for at least ten weeks. If everything is going well after the four week period, so long as Harriet's needs are being met and she is safe, you'll be allowed extended guardianship of her until you're eligible to apply for the adoption order. Obviously, as your social worker, I'll be on hand to assist with any issues you may have and should you decide not to adopt Harriet, we can review and see about adopting another child but the process will start all over again and you will have to apply for another adoption order. Now, do either of you have any questions for me?” Fraser says politely and professionally.

“When can Harry move in?” John asks with a smile.

Fraser smiles back at John and replies, “Harriet and her belongings are in the car.”

The carer pulls out his phone and sends a text his colleague in the car, chuckling when they hear the sound of Mrs Hudson greeting a very excited little girl.

“Hey, Mrs Hudson. Race you upstairs.” Harriet says quickly, the sound of her stamping footsteps getting louder as she runs up the stairs.

“You go on up, dear. I'll come up later.” Mrs Hudson replies with a chuckle.

“Surprise!” Harriet shouts excitedly, smiling at the three men in the room.

“Surprise, huh? As if we couldn't hear you from downstairs.” John laughs, holding his arms out for the little girl.

Harriet immediately runs to John and jumps into his arms, hugging him tightly as the ex-army doctor wraps his arms around her.

“And it was a surprise because you didn't know I was downstairs before.” Harriet adds with a cheeky grin.

“She's has a point, John. And it's a very nice surprise, Harriet.” Sherlock replies with a smile.

The little girl lets go of John and dives on Sherlock; causing the detective huff in surprise before hugging her back and sitting her on his knee.

“Harriet, did you leave Ellie to bring your belongings up?” Fraser asks with a laugh and a shake of his head.

“Oops.” Harriet replies, ducking her head in embarrassment.

“It's no bother, Fraser.” The young woman says as she enters the room, “Harriet was itching to get out of the car and see you both again.”

“Well, obviously.” Harriet replies with a roll of her eyes.

The look John gives Sherlock in response takes the younger man's breath away and he pulls the little girl closer; cuddling her into his chest. John immediately pulls out his phone and takes a photo of the pair; vowing to do whatever it takes to keep this little girl in their family.

Ellie delicately clears her throat as she puts the suitcase of Harriet's stuff down on the floor; a gentle reminder that she and Fraser are still present.

“Oh, sorry.” John replies sheepishly, standing up to greet Ellie. “John Watson and this is Sherlock Holmes. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too. I didn't want to interrupt but I didn't know where I could put Harriet's case.”

“Oh, yeah, of course. Harry's room is upstairs.” John replies awkwardly, grabbing the case and turning back to look at Harry, “Would you like to see your room?”

“Really? Yes!” Harry replies excitedly, jumping up from Sherlock's lap and running past John and Ellie.

“Right this way.” John grins, directing Ellie towards the stairs.

Sherlock smiles to himself, watching his partner leave before meeting Fraser's gaze and blushing at the man's matching smile. He looks away from the man and studies the mantel. For some reason, without John around, he feels uncharacteristically awkward around Fraser and decides to distract himself from the feeling by making a brew. John's always telling him that the polite thing to do when you have guests is to offer them a drink, so as he stands up and heads towards the kitchen, he looks back over at Fraser.

“Tea?” Sherlock asks, smiling despite feeling awkward.

“I'm okay, thank you.” Fraser replies with a soft smile, following the detective into the kitchen. “We'll head out once Harriet is settled in her room.”

“You don't need to ...”

“It's obvious you're both as excited as Harriet to start spending time as a proper family. Now that we've signed all the paperwork and you have Harriet's medical records, there's no need for us to stick around longer than necessary.” Fraser replies knowingly, smiling at the Sherlock.

“Yes, um, thank you … for bringing Harriet and for … everything.” Sherlock replies awkwardly, his nervousness now apparent to Fraser.

“Remember what I said, if you need anything, you can call me and we can discuss it. This isn't me saying goodbye, not yet at least. Adjusting to life with a child can be difficult, especially when it comes to adoption. There's nothing wrong with asking for help, Sherlock.”

Sherlock is just about to respond when he's interrupted by an excited Harriet. He smiles warmly as she bounces into the room, waving her arms about and before he can even say a word, Harriet runs over to Fraser.

“Fraser! Fraser! Come look at my new room.” The little girl shouts excitedly, grabbing the carer's hand and pulling him towards the door before he can even protest.

Sherlock laughs at the child's enthusiasm before deciding to follow the pair upstairs to Harriet's new room. When he gets up the stairs, he sees John leaning against the door frame watching Harriet's animated conversation with the carers and pulls the older man backwards into his arms.

“Hey, love. You okay?” John asks softly, resting his hands on top of Sherlock's.

Sherlock nuzzles John's neck and squeezes the older man tighter, feeling like happier than he has in years. He can't believe how lucky he is to have John and now Harriet here with him; a family of his own is something he'd stopped hoping for himself since Mycroft had left him to go to university.

“Better than.” He says simply, lifting his head up to observe Harriet and the two carers.

John tilts his head to kiss Sherlock's cheek and his thumbs gently rub the younger man's hands as he seems to understand what Sherlock is thinking. The pair just stand there watching the scene unfold until the sound of Harriet's stomach rumbling interrupts her conversation.

“Well, sounds like that is our que to leave.” Fraser says with a laugh, ruffling Harriet's hair gently.

“It does indeed. Well, goodbye, Harriet. And thank you for showing us your new bedroom.” Ellie replies, giving the little girl a smile.

“I'll be in touch, unless you need anything before then. Have a nice night.” Fraser says politely, holding out a hand for John to shake.

“We will. Thank you, Fraser. We appreciate your help throughout this process.” John replies with a smile, shaking the carer's hand.

“You've got my number if there's anything else I can help with.”

John follows the two carers down the stairs as Sherlock motions for Harriet to follow them so they can get ready for tea. The pair disappear into the kitchen as John leads the carers to the front door.

“Goodbye, John.” Ellie says as they reach the front door. “Goodbye, Sherlock.” She calls up the stairs to the younger man.

“Goodbye, Ellie. Goodbye, Fraser.” Sherlock calls back from the kitchen, the sound of cupboard doors opening and closing indicating that he's already starting on tea for the three of them.

“So apparently all you need to get Sherlock to cook is one hungry little girl, who knew?” John says jokingly, causing all three of them to laugh.

“Goodbye, John. I'll see you in a few weeks.”

John waves the pair goodbye as they step outside before closing the door and heading back upstairs to his little family.

Chapter Text

John is making a cup of tea when he hears small shuffling footsteps wandering into the kitchen and as he turns around, he sees the sleepy-eyed little girl rubbing her eyes and yawning. John’s heart swells with the affection and he immediately feels like one of those mothers who take hundreds of photos of their children just doing normal things; which he wants to do right now. He wants to take photos of Harriet just standing there in front of him, rubbing her eyes and yawning with her hair all messy from a good night’s sleep.

Almost like a ghost, Sherlock appears next to him with his phone in hand and John immediately thinks that Sherlock has a case, but when he wordlessly takes the younger man’s phone from him, he sees their sleepy-eyed little girl’s partially covered face looking up at him from the screen.

He smiles softly and looks over at his partner adoringly, kissing him before saying, “God, I love you. Thank you, sweetheart.”

“You’re welcome, my love.” Sherlock replies with a sleepy smile, kissing John’s cheek.

Sherlock rubs his eyes and stretches; his back giving a satisfying pop that makes even John jealous at how good that must feel good before he ruffles his signature mess of curls. John finishes off his brew and makes one for Sherlock; knowing full well that if he doesn't the younger man will steal his and then complain about it not being sweet enough.

“Good morning, Harriet. How did you sleep?” Sherlock asks the little girl, who gives a big stretch of her own before replying.

“Amazingly. My bed’s so much more comfy than the one at the home.” She replies with a smile, making Sherlock laugh softly.

“And so it should be, we replaced the bed upstairs after John spent years complaining about it hurting his back. I didn’t think it would be right to make you suffer the same fate.”

“Oi! If I remember rightly, it was my suggestion and as for the complaining, you’re not the one who had to sleep on that lumpy slab of foam and springs for three years, especially not after a three day long case when a nice comfy mattress would have been heavenly.” John replies teasingly, swatting Sherlock on the arm.

“Exactly what I said. And why are you still complaining anyway, my bed is comfortable, is it not?”

“Not the point, Sherlock.” John replies with a chuckle, shaking his head at the younger man. “Anyway, what would you like for breakfast, Harry?” He asks with a smile.

“Mm, cereal … please.” Harriet says with another yawn, rubbing her eyes as she sits down.

“Alright, then. I didn’t know what you liked so I bought a few. Do you like coco-pops?”

“Coco-pops!” Harriet exclaims, bouncing in her seat excitedly.

“Coco-pops it is then. Duly noted.” John smiles, nudging Sherlock to sit down.

The younger man glares at him but grabs his cup and reluctantly takes a seat at the breakfast table. He reaches into his dressing gown pocket for his mobile and then remembering that John still has his it, he holds his hand out to John. The older man rolls his eyes and hands the mobile over to his partner, before putting two slices of bread in the toaster.

“No cases before breakfast.” He warns, pouring cereal and milk into the two bowls and handing one to Harriet.

“Thank you.” Harriet grins, digging into her cereal enthusiastically.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

John butters his toast and sets Sherlock's cereal down by his elbow; the younger man completely engrossed in whatever he's doing on his mobile. John takes his own brew and sits down at the table with the pair, just enjoying the moment of having breakfast with his family. After a few moments, Sherlock glances up from his mobile to give a look of disgust at the cereal, but sensing John is giving him a disapproving yet fond look, he puts down his mobile and slowly starts eating the cereal. John smiles to himself and reaches out to run his fingers through the curls at the base of Sherlock's skull.

Sherlock's head dips just a little bit a lower in apparent shyness at John's approval of eating without verbal complaint. John knows that since the second or third month into their friendship, Sherlock started to seek John's approval on certain things. Sherlock will never admit it but it became even more obvious after the accident and when their relationship shifted from platonic to romantic. John doesn't do it often and not usually so boldly but he's feeling especially grateful this morning and he wants Sherlock to know that. He eats his toast and continues lazily stroke Sherlock's curls while the younger man eats his own breakfast.

Harriet's spoon drops into her bowl a moment later as she finishes the last of her cereal and she smiles sheepishly at the intrusive noise. John smiles back softly, happy that she has an appetite despite all the changes she's gone through recently.

“There's orange juice in the fridge if you want it. Or we have some blackcurrant cordial in the cupboard.” John says, pointing to the cupboard next to the sink.

“I love orange juice.” Harriet replies excitedly, jumping up to grab herself a glass. “Thank you.” She adds, as she grabs the orange juice and pours herself a glass carefully.

“You're welcome, love.”

Sherlock's spoon suddenly clatters loudly into his bowl and John gives him a look of disapproval but it quickly shifts into a smile when he sees that Sherlock has finished eating. He grabs the empty dishes and takes them over to the sink, filling the sink up and pouring soap into the sink so he can wash up. Sherlock immediately picks up his mobile and begins furiously tapping away on it. John is about to reprimand him for paying more attention to it than Harriet when he hears the sound of cartoons on the tv in the living room. The little girl is apparently making herself at home and again it makes John's heart swell at just how comfortable she feels at their flat.

“Stop thinking so loud.” Sherlock says suddenly, not looking up at John.

“Sorry, love, was my thinking disturbing you?” John asks teasingly, flicking a wet soapy hand in his partner's direction.

Drops of soapy water land on Sherlock's cheek and he looks up at John with a raised eyebrow. John giggles and flicks some more soapy water at the younger man, watching as his face shifts to one of slight amusement. John dips his hand back in the water again before Sherlock interrupts him.

“I wouldn't if I was you, John.”

“Or what?” John asks with a teasing smile.

Sherlock jumps up from his seat and, marching over to the sink, he presses up against John's back and ducks his hands into the water. His hand emerges from the water, holding a glass full of soapy water and he moves it closer to John; the threat is crystal clear to the older man.

“Go on then.” John says nonchalantly, baiting the younger man.

Sherlock's hand hovers over John's jumper covered chest as he tips the glass ever so slightly and presses John even closer into the counter. John makes a sound in response but doesn't try to move away so Sherlock grins and tips the glass of water down his partner's chest, laughing when John tries to jump back away from the water.

“Sherlock!” He gasps in amusement, shoving the younger man backwards so he can move.

“I did warn you, my love.” Sherlock replies with a giggle, stepping away from his partner quickly.

“These are fresh clothes as well.” John replies with a laugh, looking down at his soaking wet clothes.

Sherlock continues to laugh as he carefully drops the glass back into the water, watching his partner strip off his wet jumper and dump it on the table. John's hair is damp and stuck up in all directions as he starts unbuttoning his wet shirt and Sherlock watches for a moment as more skin is revealed before coming to his senses and stopping his partner.

“You may want to continue that in the bedroom, John. We have a child in the house now.” Sherlock says softly, while his eyes run up and down John's body appreciatively.

“Yeah, probably the best idea. But you can clean up this mess, you caused it after all.” John replies with a grin, grabbing his jumper and making his way back to the bedroom.

Sherlock rolls his eyes fondly and grabs the mop and bucket to clean up the floor; knowing John will likely reward him later for his good behaviour. Once he's mopped the floor, he finishes washing the dishes and stacks them on the drainer to dry. John comes back a few minutes later; freshly dry and hair now tidy and smiles when he sees Sherlock placing the last plate on the drainer.

“You didn't have to do that, love, I was going to finish them off when I was finished.” John says with a smile, kissing Sherlock's cheek.

“You said clean up so I did.” Sherlock replies, drying his hands on a tea towel.

“Thank you, love. So, what do you want to do today?”

“Please can we go to the park? And the cinema? And the museum?” Harriet calls from the living room.

John and Sherlock laugh to themselves, looking towards the living room and wondering how the little girl heard them over the sound of the tv.

“Course we can, sweetheart. But you have to get dressed first.” John chuckles, stepping into the living room.

“Yay!” Harriet exclaims, jumping up from the couch and running out the room.

John laughs again as he hears to the excited stamping of footsteps up to Harriet’s bedroom. When the older man turns back into the kitchen a moment later, he finds the room is now missing Sherlock so he makes his way to the bedroom to see what the detective is up to. He stops short at the door when he sees Sherlock rummaging franticly through his wardrobe for an outfit; the younger man muttering to himself about needling new clothes that are appropriate for family days out.

John smiles fondly and walks over to the younger man, getting the odd sense of deja vu as he wraps his arms around his partner's waist and presses up against his back.

“You're doing it again, sweetheart. I love your suits and how glamorous you look.” John says gently, giving Sherlock a squeeze. “But I also love how you look in a shirt and those tight denim jeans of yours. Put them on for me, would you, love?” He continues, using his Captain's voice that he knows Sherlock gets off on.

Almost immediately, John feels Sherlock relax in his arms and the younger man moans softly as John drops his hand to stroke Sherlock through his trousers. The younger man practically melts at John's slow touch and his head drops back as the doctor stretches up to kiss his neck. It's the moments like this that John adores, not arousing the younger man per say but the trust that Sherlock has in him as he lets himself be vulnerable with the older man. Sherlock isn’t ashamed to be open and vulnerable with John anymore and he knows John will always take care of him when he lets himself feel this way.

“John.” Sherlock moans, pressing back against the older man.

“I know, baby, I've got you all worked up but I'll make it worth your patience later. Right now, our girl wants to go on an adventure with us. So, go with the shirt and jeans, you'll be the most beautiful thing in that museum.” John replies, removing his hand and giving Sherlock once last squeeze before letting go.

“Thank you, my love.” Sherlock sighs softly, turning to look at John.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. Anytime and always when you need me, Sher.” John replies, reaching up to kiss his partner.

John makes his way back into the kitchen, busying himself with drying and putting away the plates while Sherlock and Harriet finished getting dressed. He listens to Sherlock moving about in their bedroom before he hears his partner's footsteps move towards the bathroom; no doubt to try and style his riot of ink-black curls. John counts to twenty before smiling as he hears Sherlock storm back into the bedroom after another failed attempt at to tame his hair into submission.

‘Twenty seconds, a new personal best.’ John grins, shaking his head at the younger man's antics.

Harriet comes walking back down the stairs two minutes later and flops down on the couch sadly.

“What’s up, sweetheart?” John asks, peering around the door at the little girl.

“I wanted something nice to wear but nothing I have is good enough.” Harriet sighs, looking at her feet.

A part of John wants to laugh at the fact that both Sherlock and Harriet have the same issue with wanting to look presentable, despite the fact that they're not actually related and have only been living together for a single night. John smiles reassuringly at Harriet, putting the tea towel and holding out his hand to the girl. If he can get through to his high maintenance partner and reassure him, then he can help his little girl get through this issue too.

“Come on. Let’s go and look what we’re working with.” John replies, walking hand in hand with the girl up to her room.

They walk into Harriet's bedroom and Harriet runs straight over to her bed where her clothes are currently scattered across it, pointing accusingly at the apparently offending items. John stops dead and surveys the chaos of the bed amidst the neatness of the rest of the bedroom, wondering how she managed to keep the rest of the room tidy when her bed is so messy.

‘At least it's still less mess that what Sherlock can create on a good day.’ John thinks to himself, smiling fondly.

He walks over to the little girl and casts his eyes over the clothes on her bed, spotting a few options. He picks up the various items and studies them critically, channelling Sherlock to make sure they look in good shape.

“Well, this looks alright. And these. And this. If we're still going to the park, you don’t want anything too nice that could get ruined. Jeans, t-shirt and a jacket will be fine, love. Honest.”

“Okay.” Harriet replies, giving a half smile.

“Now, let’s find your shoes.” John replies, looking under her bed. “Oh, well, what happened here then?” He asks curiously, holding up two very tattered trainers.

“Governess Kate wanted to throw them out but they’re the only shoes I have to play football in. My pumps wouldn’t survive the mud.”

“I tell you what, why don’t we do a bit of clothes shopping and head to the museum after that. We might not have time for the park and cinema today but that will just give us something to do tomorrow. How’s that sound?”

“You mean, shopping for me? You want to buy me clothes?” Harriet asks in an astonished tone.

“Well, you need some new trainers and maybe some more pairs of shoes. And I'm sorry, love, but some of these clothes are falling apart and need to be thrown away. I know I’ve probably not got the best taste in clothes but ... do you know who does?” John says gently, before looking around and crouching down next to the little girl. “Sherlock. And he knows all the best shops too.” He whispers conspiratorially, causing Harriet to giggle.

“Thank you, Daddy.” Harriet says happily, wrapping her arms around John’s waist.

John feels his stomach do that little flip again and rests his hand on Harriet’s head, smiling softly to himself. This is another one of those moments were John wishes he had a camera to take a photo and he sighs at himself for not bringing his mobile upstairs with him. He hears movement by the bedroom door and when he looks up, there's Sherlock and again, he has his mobile in his hand.

‘I could kiss that brilliant man.' John thinks to himself and then chuckles when he remembers that there's nothing stopping him from either saying it out loud or actually doing it.

Harriet pulls away and looks up, a confused expression on her face as she wonders what the man finds so funny.

“What's so funny, Da ... Um, John?” She asks awkwardly, shuffling her feet nervously.

John crouches down again and whispers, “I was just thinking I might kiss him.”

“That's gross.” Harriet replies, making a face before covering her eyes with her hands, “But you can do it now.”

John chuckles at the little girl, ruffling her hair before walking over to Sherlock; who's smirking at his partner. John rolls his eyes fondly and reaches up to kiss Sherlock softly, feeling the younger man's arm wrap around his waist.

“Are you done yet?” Harriet calls, her hands still covering her eyes.

John and Sherlock both chuckle as they pull away from each other with a smile. Harriet peeks through her fingers at the pair and sighs in relief, moving her hands away from her face.

“Come on, love.” John says to Sherlock, grinning. “You get dressed and put your clothes away before we leave. Anything that looks ruined or doesn't fit, just put it in a pile in front of your wardrobe. We'll sort them out later, alright, sweetheart.” He adds, looking over at the girl.

Harriet nods happily as John leaves the room, shutting the door behind him to give the little girl some privacy. John and Sherlock head back downstairs to the living room and sit down in their respective chairs while they wait for Harriet.

x..x

When they get to the park, Harriet immediately runs to the climbing frame and begins making her way up to the top of it. Sherlock and John walk over to the bench and watch the little going up and down the climbing frame with all the energy that only a child has, well, a child and the world's only consulting detective. Harriet walks to the top of the slide and waves over at John and Sherlock, signalling for one of them to come over and catch her at the bottom.

“I've got this one, my love.” Sherlock says gently, standing up and walking over to the climbing frame.

John smiles as he watches the little girl happily go down the slide and giggle loudly when Sherlock catches her at the bottom, lifting her up to put her back onto the climbing frame. John watches the pair laugh and play together happily, feeling a sense of contentment wash over him as they take this next step in their lives.

I'm going to marry him one day. John thinks to himself with a smile.

His mind starts to fill with images of Sherlock dressed in a white and black bespoke tuxedo with Harriet dressed in either baby blue or pastel pink as their little flower girl. Harry will probably be his maid of honour; he knows it's more traditional for women to have a bridal party but he wants at least a little bit of tradition with bridesmaids and groomsmen, just because he likes the idea of family being involved and having those family wedding photos that he longs for. He knows either Greg or Mycroft will be best man; probably Mycroft because, while Sherlock won't admit it, he does actually care for his older brother and would want him by his side at the wedding. Both of John's parents are already dead but he'd sooner spit on his father's grave than invite him to his wedding. His mother, however, how he misses his wonderful, beautiful mum; she would have loved Sherlock immediately and no doubt had a wedding plan set out before they even reached the one year mark of dating. His smile fades a little as he remembers how she died and why she never got to see either of her children marry and start a family.

“Daddy! Daddy, push me on the swings, please?” Harriet calls from the climbing frame.

Her voice and her words pull John out of his memories and bring a smile to his face as he stands up and makes his way over.

“Of course, sweetheart.” John replies with a smile, waiting for her to climb down from the climbing frame.

“Your mother would have been proud of everything you have achieved, John.” Sherlock says gently, and John's as sure as ever that the genius can read minds.

John's feels tears in his eyes as he reaches up to kiss his partner, cupping his cheek and pulling him close. Sherlock wraps an arm around John, anchoring the older man to the present and as always since they met, guiding him back home to the light.

“Ewww, Daddy, Papa, not more kissing.” Harriet whines, covering her eyes again.

John doesn't miss Sherlock's gasp at Harriet's words and John pulls away with a fond smile, looking adoringly at Sherlock as he watches all the emotions play across his face. Sherlock blinks a few times and when he wipes at his face, he realises that he's crying and John smiles reassuringly at him.

“John.” Sherlock whispers, looking at John for help.

“It's alright, sweetheart. It catches you off guard at first, but you'll get used to it.” John replies reassuringly, stroking Sherlock's cheek.

“Did I do something wrong?” Harriet asks in a worried tone, tears filling her eyes.

“No, sweetheart. Not even a little. Papa was just surprised, that's all.” John replies gently, crouching down and opening his arms wide.

Harriet steps forward and wraps her arms around John's neck, snuggling close to him as the older man hugs her tightly. They stay like that for a few moments until Harriet pulls away and smiles at John, the older man smiling back at her.

“Come on, race you to the swings.” He says with a grin, laughing when Harriet takes off running.

John grabs Sherlock's hand and they both walk over to the swings, hand in hand as Harriet does a little victory dance.

John pushes Harriet on the swings for a while until she decides that she’d like to see the museum. They spend a couple of hours in the museum before they take a nice, long walk to the shops. Sherlock grabs John's hand and pulls him towards one particular shop, one that has a posh looking doorman and John knows immediately that what's inside is well out of his price range.

“Good afternoon, what can I do for you today, sir?” An older gentleman asks politely and professionally.

John looks the older man over and sees that he's dressed in a bespoke Savile Row suit and looking every bit the epitome of a 1940’s gentleman. John wonders what Sherlock was thinking bringing his predominantly Primark wearing partner and their young daughter into a shop like this. He knows John can't afford even a tie in this place and he doesn't want to be viewed as one of those men who's only with Sherlock because of his money. Especially after Sherlock insisted they only by the most high end and expensive furniture for Harriet's room because ‘you get the quality you pay for, John and cheap will not last very long'.

“We're just looking, thank you. We'll find you if we require assistance.” Sherlock replies in a clipped tone, practically dismissing the older man with his tone as much as his words.

“Of course, sir.” The older gentleman replies, completely unfazed by Sherlock's tone.

He bows before he turns and walks away, spotting an obviously wealthy couple entering the shop. John looks around anxiously, wondering how long it will take for people to realise that he doesn't belong here and tell him politely but firmly to leave.

“He looks like one of the people from old films.” Harriet says suddenly, still watching the older man.

“He probably is one of those people.” Sherlock replies with smirk, causing John to stifle a laugh.

“Did you just make a joke?” John asks, giggling quietly.

“Yes. Now, will you stop worrying about what people think of you? You're worth more than anyone else here, John.” Sherlock replies in annoyance, grabbing John's hand tightly.

John looks down at their joined hands and back up at his partner's face, reaching up to kiss his cheek.

“I don't know how you do that, but thank you, sweetheart.”

“I can see your anxiety in the set of your ...”

“Alright, smart arse. I get it, you can read me like a book.” John laughs, looking fondly at his partner.

“It's alright, Daddy. This place is super fancy. I don't like it either.” Harriet replies with a nod, grabbing John's other hand.

Sherlock smiles to himself and pulls the pair towards the back of the shop; towards what look suspiciously like wedding tuxedos, if John were to guess. Sherlock stops in front of one particular suit; a black and white tuxedo, and admires it critically. John’s breath hitches as he watches Sherlock’s face to see if he likes it or not.

“What do you think about this one, my love? Do you think it's a nice suit?” Sherlock asks, looking over at John.

“It is. And I think you'd look beautiful in it, if there was ever a reason to wear it.”

Sherlock nods to himself and walks over to another suit, standing in front of it to examine it just as critically as the other one. John wonders if Sherlock can somehow read his mind or if he accidentally made a comment about weddings tuxedos and that's what's causing this impromptu trip to an expensive clothes shop. Harriet comes to stand next to Sherlock and admires the suit as well, the pair make eye contact and a silent conversation seems to pass between them.

“I think Daddy would look nice in this one, Papa.” Harriet replies with a nod of her head.

“You have a good eye, Harriet. I agree, Daddy would look very nice in this one.” Sherlock says with a smile, grabbing the girl's hand and walking away.

John looks after them in bewilderment, wondering what on earth is going on and is anyone going to explain this whole bizarre situation to him at any point. He shrugs his shoulders and rolls his eyes, following after the pair and finding them in the bridesmaid section.

“Blue, pink or yellow, Harriet?” Sherlock asks, looking at the various dresses.

“I like this one.” Harriet replies, holding up one particular dress.

The dress in question is a very nice dress but also vaguely familiar to John as he studies the blue dress with a pink ribbon around the waist; and suddenly John realises where he's seen it before.

“Maybe not that one, sweetheart. Any one but that one, please.” John interjects gently, carefully taking it from her and hanging it back on the hook.

“What's wrong with ... Oh. No, perhaps not, Harriet.” Sherlock replies, looking over at John; who's trying very hard not to laugh.

The Shining Twins dress crisis averted, Sherlock grabs a baby blue dress with lace sleeves from one of the racks instead.

“How about this one?”

“Oh, it's so pretty. That one, that’s the best.” Harriet replies excitedly, pointing enthusiastically at the dress.

John and Sherlock share a relieved look and nod in unison, before Sherlock hangs it back up on the rack. John is just about to ask if they're ready to go, when Sherlock walks off again, looking at another suit; deep blue velvet with satin lapels, a velvet front waistcoat and grey tie with a matching grey pocket square. John walks over to Sherlock to admire the suit and the first thing he thinks is how beautiful it looks.

“Mycroft, right?” John asks with a soft smile, already knowing it would suit the older Holmes perfectly.

“I was thinking for Lestrade, John.” Sherlock snaps, but John sees the wistful smile on Sherlock's lips.

“Or both?” John suggests, reaching up to feel the lapels.

“Indeed.” Sherlock replies simply, before turning and walking away. “Now that's settled, let's get you some new clothes, Harriet.”

Sherlock holds his hand out for the little girl and she runs over to grab his hand, swinging their arms. John stares at the suit for a moment longer and smiles to himself, nodding his agreement.

“Come along, John.” Sherlock calls back, not bothering to wait for the older man.

John laughs and, resisting the urge to run after them, instead speed walks in the least conspicuous manner possible, catching up to the pair as they reach the door.

Five hours and one shopping trip later, Harriet has some new pairs of jeans, a few pairs of leggings and shorts, t-shirts, jumpers, a new summer dress, two pairs of trainers and a pair of sandals. John, despite his protests, also ends up with some  new clothes as well before the three of them climb into a cab to go home.

“Thank you for the lovely day out, Daddy and Papa. All the new clothes are amazing. I had lots of fun today.” Harriet smiles, holding onto John’s hand as they enter the flat.

“You’re welcome, love. Now, you go and put those away and we’ll get a takeaway, yeah?” John says, pulling his coat and shoes off.

“Sounds great.” Harriet grins, taking her clothes from John and heading to her bedroom.

John pulls out his mobile, ordering his and Sherlock's usual and ordering a kid’s meal for Harriet. Sherlock picks up the shopping bags and takes them into their bedroom, folding everything neatly and putting it away in their chest of drawers.

When he comes back into the kitchen, John is in the process of making two cups of tea and a hot chocolate for Harriet. He reaches up and grabs the biscuits out of the cupboard for after their meal. Sherlock walks up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist and resting his chin on John's shoulder.

“Thanks for today, sweetheart.” John says softly, leaning back against Sherlock.

“No, thank you, my love. I had an enjoyable day today. It was perfect spending the day with you and Harriet.” Sherlock replies, kissing John's shoulder.

“It was, indeed, Sher.”

Sherlock steps back and helps John carry Harriet's hot chocolate and the biscuits to the living room so that the older man doesn't have to make two trips; John giving him an appreciative smile. As they settle in their respective chairs, Harriet comes down the stairs and walks into the room in her pyjamas, smiling at the two men.

x..x

As they didn't have time for the cinema today, John scrolls through the movie channel on the tv and finds Frozen to watch for Harriet. Sherlock sighs in annoyance but settles down on the couch as John fills three bowls with popcorn and throws a packet of sweets at Sherlock. They all settle on the couch as John presses play on the film, smiling to himself as Harriet's head snuggles into Sherlock's side and the feet settle on John's lap.

Harriet is completely engrossed in the film until the final twenty minutes when her head starts to drop and her eyes drift closed.

“Looks like we tired her out. I think it's time we got this one to bed.”

“Finally, now we can watch something else. I think watching that thing made my IQ drop lower than Anderson's.” Sherlock moans, yet managing to keep his voice low so he doesn't disturb the child snuggled into his side.

“Oh, shut up, you were just as engrossed in it as she was.” John laughs, ruffling Sherlock's curls.

As the credits roll, John carefully picks her up in his arms and rests her head on his shoulder as he carefully moves around the coffee table. Sherlock continues to mutter in protest as John carries Harriet out of the room and the older man has a difficult time not laughing at his partner. He makes it up the stairs and walks into the child's bedroom, lying Harriet down carefully in her bed before covering her up.

“Mmm, Daddy. Where we?” She asks sleepily, rubbing her eyes.

“You're in bed, sweetheart. Now, get some sleep, love, you've had an exciting day today.” John replies gently, stroking Harriet's hair.

“M’kay.”

“Good girl. Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Night, Daddy.” She whispers softly, before succumbing to sleep.

John smiles and closes the door gently, making his way back downstairs to Sherlock. He walks into the living room and finds a sweet yet surprising sight, Sherlock Holmes is fast asleep on the couch, snoring lightly. John chuckles fondly and makes his way over to the couch, gently shaking the younger man.

“Sherlock, come on, sweetheart, time for bed.”

“John.” Sherlock whines, batting his hand away.

“You’ll only be extra grumpy tomorrow sleeping on the couch. So, come on, bed.”

Sherlock opens his eyes sleepily, yawning as he stretches before slowly getting up off the couch, allowing John to guide him to their bedroom. John manages to turn the tv off and flick all the lights off as they make their way from the living room to the bedroom.

“Let's get you undressed, shall we?” He says softly, unbuttoning Sherlock's shirt and pulling it off his shoulders.

“Love you, John.” Sherlock says sleepily, swaying on his feet.

“Love you too, sweetheart. Now, can you get your pants off while I get undressed?”

Sherlock simply nods in reply, sitting down on the bed as he unbuttons his jeans and pulls them down and off sluggishly. John pulls his jumper and shirt off in one and throws them at the wash basket, throwing Sherlock's disguarded clothes in it too before pulling off his own jeans off and adding them to the wash basket as well. By the time he's finished, Sherlock is curled up in bed, duvet around his ankles as he snores lightly and John smiles fondly, before climbing into bed behind Sherlock. He pulls the duvet over them as Sherlock rolls over and snuggles into John's side, his head on John's chest and an arm slung over his waist. John kisses his curls affectionately and wraps his arm around the younger man, falling asleep almost instantly.