Disclaimer: nothing mine. A.N. For the prompt 'snow' from Sherlock challenge on Tumblr. With a bit of a twist… ;D
It's a wonderful life
John loved being a parent, no matter how exacting a task it often was. All the painful debacle surrounding his marriage, with the abundant shame attached to it (his behaviour had been inexcusable – he still wondered why Sherlock would talk to him at all) was worth it, because Rosie couldn't possibly exist without it. His sweet, bright, stubborn – hey, she needed to inherit something from him too! – daughter had been the one keeping him going some days.
Thank God, that dark and best forgotten period was long past now. There were plenty of amends, and explanations, and therapy for all involved (well, not Rosie, who was small enough she would hopefully never remember the tensest days). And then, like a magnet – he couldn't help himself if he'd tried, and he hadn't tried very hard at all – John had moved back into 221B Baker Street.
This time around though, they'd stopped pretending that they didn't love each other, to the utter relief of all their acquaintances. The collective sigh at their announcement of being officially a couple could have powered a small wind turbine, if only it had been harnessed.
Everyone was far happier, including Rosie, who got the two best parents in the world. At four, Sherlock was already teaching her small bits of deduction ("it's just logic, John, it won't hurt her, and besides, we need to start early if she is going to beat Mycroft at his own game!")…the way she applied it, though, still left something to be desired.
Like the night her dad first read Snow White to her, and she 'deduced', "So, daddy, did you wish for papa too?"
John chuckled. "Why do you ask, princess?"
"Skin white as snow, hair black as ebony, and…well, not very red lips, but they're pretty, so…" his daughter quoted back at him, with a look on her face very close to the "How do you idiots manage to miss the glaringly obvious" one Sherlock sometimes had.
"I see," John said, stifling another laugh. "No, love, I didn't wish him into existence, mostly because I didn't believe anyone would bother listening to my wishes. And even if you're right, and your papa is indeed very pretty, I've never been fixated on hair or things like that. If I thought I could have a fairy fulfilling my wishes back then, though, I would definitely have wished for him. Only, I would have mentioned how brilliant he is, how brave, and how loving. He's almost too good to be true, isn't he?"
"Don't be silly now," Rosie scolded, "he's great, I agree…but he still can't manage proper soldiers for my eggs."
John just had to laugh at that. "Well, you see, princess. Unlike me, he's not been in the army."
The child nodded pensively, but apparently that made sense to her. A yawn sneaked up on her, and she turned to settle better in bed. "Goodnight," she mumbled.
"Goodnight, love."