My very first Johnlock!

It all started with the hug, they had hugged before, but this was different, John felt so broken when Sherlock's slender fingers slid gently over the back of his neck, and his hand on his back. John's head leaned on his chest, tears dripping from his cheeks, and the only thing holding him together was the soft beating of Sherlock's heart.

After that things got... complicated. It wasn't romantic, John was not gay! It was a matter of needing comfort. A touch of the hand, or standing so they're shoulders touched. They both needed the touch of the other to assure they were still there. John even moved back in to 221b with Roseland. Sherlock never once complained about Rosie crying, or messing about in his things. He even kept the floors tidy, and the kitchen closed off for her.

They would find each other leaning against the other's back when they sat on the floor providing counterbalance. Grabbing his hand to stop him when he was too distracted to look both ways across the street, and he would keep hold of it until they were on the other side, sometimes longer. Rosey held both they're hands once she could walk, bridging them at all times.

They were arrested, not a shocking development, but it happened to keep them overnight to spite Sherlock. Who was now tossing and turning on the uncomfortable bench.

"Leave it off Sherlock, I might actually get some sleep in here, which is more than I can say for at home, what with Rosie waking me up at four A.M." John said without opening his eyes, Sherlock glared at him. His arm fell slack, how could he sleep in these conditions?

He pushed himself across the bench with his feet until his head was touching John's shoulder. He poked him in the head, John sighed, lifting it. Sherlock wiggled closer, laying his head on John's shoulder. John set his down on Sherlock's, reaching up to run his hand through his hair the way that soothed Rosey. He let his head loll to Sherlock's bent arm. Soon they were both asleep.

Rosie fell ill, it pulled John off a case. He knew Sherlock didn't need his help, but she was very ill. It kept him off the next two cases. Sherlock sat with him in hospital for the first few nights, but it fell off.

He hadn't seen Sherlock in weeks. Rosie was finally getting better, so he went to find him while Mrs. Hudson sat with Rosie. He found Sherlock laid out on the floor, a needle not far from his arm. John ran over to him, rolling him over to take his pulse. He was alive, so John slapped him. He sat up with a start.

"John?" Sherlock cocked his head, looking around.

"How dare you! How... I needed you, and you're here high off your tits, while I..." John got to his feet, scrubbing his hand over his face. Sherlock stumbled up after him.

"You were busy, I solved the case, cases really. Eight while you were sitting around." Sherlock started towards his bedroom.

"Sitting around! Rosie is ill! She has bacterial pneumonia, she wasn't responding to antibiotics! She needed me! She needed me to be there for her! The way I needed you!" John shoved him, and Sherlock spun around, falling back onto his bed.

"What good did your sitting around do for her? What did you want me to do? I don't know how to be what you want? I don't want to go back to being alone!" Sherlock had sunk low on this same path when John had gotten married, but it was worse now with Mary gone. Rosie needed his full attention, Sherlock couldn't bare to get in the way of that.

"Neither do I you cock! I can't do this alone! I'm rubbish at this sort of thing, you know that. I was there, I held her hand when she was awake, and read her stories to get her to sleep, and that was all I could do! I'm a doctor! I'm here father! I shouldn't be helpless, I can't be helpless again, not like last time." John trailed off to a whisper at the end, sinking down to the floor, tears streaming down his face.

Sherlock rolled over somewhat awkwardly, looking over at John with worry. He put his hand on his shoulder. John covered his hand with his own, squeezing his eyes shut until his tears stopped.

"I don't know how to do this anymore." John took a few careful breaths trying to steady himself.

"Nor do I." Sherlock whispered, rolling onto his back, leaving his head on John's shoulder, looking up.

"Promise me you'll stop, promise me never, never around Rosie. Never when she needs you. I can forgive you for letting me down, but never her. No matter what, promise me." John said without looking at him. He watched John while he spoke, soft, and absolutely serious.

"I swear to you John. I would never do anything to risk either of you. Never break my vow again." He let his eyes fall shut, the most important words left off, never spoken. Because I love you John. John heard them through, in the soft baritone of his voice, he knew. They stayed like that, cheek to cheek until they fell asleep.

After that it happened more and more often, in his chair while John played with Rosie until they were all asleep against Sherlock, his hand in John's hair. When John folded laundry on the floor late at night, Rosey asleep in the corner, and a bored Sherlock on the bed, his head on John's shoulder. In the back of the car on long trips home. Once on the tube standing up.

It was all just normal to the both of them, to Rosie as well, though outsiders found it odd, often thinking they were a couple. John had stopped correcting them. He hadn't had a girlfriend since... He just hadn't. He had nightmares even still, except when Sherlock was there which was why he was on his fifth cup of coffee.

Sherlock had been pulled away by Mycroft for the weekend, John had to stay for Rosie's field trip. He hadn't slept since he'd left, not really. He woke with a start, his throat raw, and his neck aching from being in Sherlock's chair.

"Daddy? Are you okay?" Rosie tugged at his hand, she was remarkably intelligent for her age, Marty's doing he supposed, coupled with Sherlock's tutelage.

"I'm fine sweetheart, just a bit of a nightmare." He pulled her up into his lap, stroking her hair gently.

"Do you miss Daddy?" She had started calling Sherlock that, it lit up his face each time she did, and he hadn't the heart to stop her.

"Yes sweety, I do, I'm used to running off with him when he goes on these daft adventures. I don't like not being able to watch his back." John whispered, she grabbed the blanket off of the floor, curling up on his lap.

"He misses you too, when you're not here. He even talks to you. He loves you, even more than he loves me." She tucked her head against his chest to sleep. He smiled, kissing the top of her head, waiting for her to fall back asleep, carrying her upstairs. He went to Sherlock's room, sitting on the bed.