"John, hold his head and don't forget to support his body. No, not like that, you're doing it wrong. You're going to hurt him. Hold him close, he's getting cold. Wrap the blanket around him; make sure it covers his whole body. And don't forget too….."
"SHERLOCK! I am more than capable of holding a small child. I'm a grown man!"
Glancing in the rearview mirror, Sherlock gave his husband, John, a foreboding look. On their way home from the hospital, John had offered to hold their brand new baby boy, Timothy, in the backseat while Sherlock drove the car. Strangely, the surrogate mother who was fostering their child had been quite eager to give the child over and have both John and Sherlock leave the hospital room.
Both men being new and inexperienced parents brought down a certain sort of tension between the two of them. Both thought that they could do a better job of taking care of the child, and one wasn't trusting the other because they thought they knew how to change his diaper better, or they knew when his feeding schedule was, or they knew how to best put him to sleep.
"I'm just making sure you're doing everything right." said Sherlock.
John looked out the window and rolled his eyes.
As soon as the car pulled up in front of 221B, Sherlock hurriedly yanked the key out of the ignition and rushed to the door, opening it for John while carefully watching Timothy, who was fast asleep, nestled in the warm cradle that John's arms formed around him.
Sherlock led John into the apartment, where they passed by Mrs. Hudson on the staircase.
"Oh what a beautiful baby boy! So adorable and precious!"
"Yes, yes. He's just amazing…."
Sherlock loved his son more than anything, next to John, but he was anxious to bring Timothy into their own apartment where he and John would be able to watch over him constantly and keep him safe from all harm.
As they continued walking up the stairs, John stumbled on the edge of a step, not falling or dropping Timothy, but stumbling nonetheless, which was enough to send Sherlock into panic, turning around and rushing down the few steps between him and John, holding out his arms and taking hold of John's shoulders.
"Sherlock, I'm fine. Nothing happened. Timothy's quite alright, still sleeping, you see? " John gestured toward the small bundle of blankets in his arms, where Timothy indeed still lay sleeping, completely unaware of what was happening around him.
"Yes, but something could have happened. Please be more careful."
Muttering something under his breath, which Sherlock knew was most likely some sort of insult directed towards him, John walked past him, continuing to climb the stairs in front of Sherlock, so that he could keep an eye on both John and Timothy.
As the two men entered the apartment, John turned around abruptly and eagerly gave Timothy over to Sherlock.
"If you think you can do such an amazing job, take care of him yourself while I go take a shower."
John turned around and stormed off into the washroom.
After nearly twenty minutes had passed, John stepped into the hallway dressed in a thick fleece sweater and dark jeans, smiling at the sound of soft, soothing violin music flowing throughout the apartment. John always loved to listen to his husband play his violin. He admired Sherlock's exceptional musical talent.
John followed the sound of the violin into the living room, next to the kitchen, where Sherlock was seated comfortably in a chair, playing to a bewildered Timothy, seated in his small baby carrier on the floor, who was staring at Sherlock through wide questioning eyes.
John walked forward and stared at his beautiful son, taking in all his adorable character traits. The blue eyes and soft blond hair, the chubby red cheeks, and the plump hands that were waving fists in the air, made up the perfect son that John had always wanted.
Pressing a soft kiss to the top of Sherlock's head, John walked over the fridge to prepare dinner for their small three-member family. He pulled opened the door and…
"SHERLOCK HOLMES!"
The violin playing stopped and Sherlock walked over to the fridge to see what all the fuss was about.
"Oh, well that is there for a reason."
"SHERLOCK! THERE'S A HUMAN HEAD IN THE BLOODY FRIDGE!"
"I need it for an experiment I'm working on."
"We have a small newborn in our house now, and you decide to possibly infect our food and poison our child by keeping a BLOODY HEAD IN THE FRIDGE?" John was infuriated. For such a brilliant man, Sherlock could sometimes be ignorant when it came to such simple matters.
"I'm sorry, John, alright? I'll go throw it out now."
Sulking, Sherlock grabbed the head by the hair like it was the most normal thing in the world and tossed into the garbage bin.
"Bring that outside, it smells disgusting."
And so, with a sigh, Sherlock carried the garbage bag containing the human head outside to the giant trash bin that stood outside their building. He was quite disappointed, to say the least.
John wasn't finished being mad at Sherlock when he returned from outside.
"You're so intelligent, yet so stupid."
"I really appreciate the insults, John. They do wonders for my self-esteem." Sherlock responded, his voice drooping with sarcasm.
"Well I'm sorry that I care so much for our newborn son."
"I love him just as much as you do, John. Besides, you're doing almost everything wrong."
That was the last straw.
"I HAVE HAD ENOUGH WITH YOUR BULLSHIT. I'VE BEEN PUTTING UP WITH IT ALL DAY " yelled John, his face turning red. Timothy was now crying, hearing the loud noise that John's voice created. Sherlock clearly hadn't been expecting such an outburst because he stepped back and his eyes widened with surprise.
"ALL YOU'VE BEEN DOING ALL DAY IS CRITICIZING ME AND TELL ME WHAT I'M DOING WRONG. I'M DOING THE BEST I CAN FOR HIM. HE'S NOT EVEN YOUR SON."
As soon as John had said that, he covered his mouth with his hands immediately regretting it.
Of course, everybody knows that two men together can't father a child. That was where the surrogate mother had come in, to provide them with a healthy, happy child that they could love and care for. After a lengthy discussion John and Sherlock decided that they would use John's sperm to create their child. Although the final decision was based upon a mutual agreement, Sherlock always felt left out, but he loved seeing John happy more than anything and that was all he wanted. To keep his husband happy, even though it might cost him a bit of his own happiness.
There was an awkward silence that hung in the air, the only sound emitting from Timothy, whose crying had been reduced to small whimpers.
"Do you even consider me a part of this family, John? Do I even matter?" Sherlock asked quietly.
With tears stinging his eyes, Sherlock quickly fled the apartment.
It had been hours since Sherlock left. John was weighed down with a heavy feeling of guilt, guilt and worry. It was nearly midnight and Sherlock hadn't even called.
All he wanted was for Sherlock to come home, so he could tell him that he was sorry. So that he could embrace him and kiss him and make sure he was okay.
It had been quite the tiring night. It took nearly half and hour to calm down Timothy and another to feed him, after which he awoke in the middle of his slumber to have his diaper changed. It was only after another few hours that John managed to settle him in his crib, making sure that he was comfortable and fully asleep before leaving the room, taking the baby monitor with him and leaving the door slightly ajar, letting a tad of the hallway light into the dark room. It never hurt to be too careful.
It had been exhausting and John knew that he needed Sherlock by his side. After calling his cell phone for the tenth time with no answer, John collapsed onto the couch, rubbing his temples and thinking about how long it was going to take for Sherlock to come home as tears slowly trickled down his cheeks.
1:00 am
As he seated himself in the drivers seat of his car, Sherlock sighed as he realized just how tired he was.
After going to see Mycroft for a while (which was a complete waste of time, since Mycroft never offered any sympathy to any one and was acting like a pompous ass the entire time) Sherlock had driven around downtown London aimlessly, not wanting to go back to 221B just yet. He wasn't ready to face John.
What if John really didn't consider Sherlock apart of the family? What if Timothy grew up favoring John? What if Sherlock ended up watching painfully from the sidelines as his husband and son enjoyed a comfortable and happy life together? What if he ended up alone?
Even John had said so. Sherlock wasn't the biological father of Timothy, something that both men knew though it was a fact that they tried to ignore.
Suddenly, Sherlock felt alone, but he knew he had nowhere else to go. With resignation, he drove home.
Hearing the door unlock and open must have been one of the most heavenly sounds that John had ever heard. He felt relief rushing over him and he ran towards to door, nearly tackling Sherlock in a tight embrace.
The two men stood in the doorway, arms wrapped tightly around each other, neither wanting to let go of the other.
As they reluctantly pulled apart Sherlock said "I'm sorry. I know I'm not a good parent. Most likely never will be. I'm not the real father. You are. I could leave now, if you want. Probably be for the best…."
John stopped his ranting with a firm but loving kiss.
"Shut up. You aren't going anywhere." John said, as he continued to hold Sherlock's face in his hands. " We decided that we wanted to bring a child into this world together when we got married. You are as much of a father as I am, and we will raise this child together."
Sherlock smiled with happiness as they kissed again, relieved that his husband still wanted him because he knew that he still wanted John, would never stop wanting him. John was all he would ever need. Timothy and John. The three of them together.
Their reunion was cut short by a loud wail coming from the nursery. John turned away to attend to Timothy but was held back by Sherlock who whispered softly in his ear "Go to bed. I'll take care of him."
John smiled his thanks and walked away towards their bedroom.
As soon as Sherlock held Timothy in his arms, he was awestruck by the small boys overwhelming beauty. From that moment on, Sherlock knew he would do anything for this child to protect him and keep him healthy and safe. He could hardly believe that he was a father with a perfect little son and happily married to the man of his dreams.
Sherlock entered the bedroom and quietly set Timothy next to a sleeping John as he pulled on his pajamas. Laying down facing John he put his arm over him, Timothy nestled safely between them.
"I love you. I love you both." whispered Sherlock as he slowly closed his eyes and succumbed to sleep.