A/N: I'm back! I have been working on this story since the trailer for series 4 came out. I have some theories about series 4 and this story is directly related to one of those ideas.
A/N Part Two: This is a slightly updated chapter. I've amended Rosie's name (as y'all may remember I came up with this theory waaay before the series came out or the name of their baby was released.) No plot changes made.
Disclaimer: I do not write smut. I don't mind it, but smut is just not my thing. This is JohnLock and is rated M mostly for sexual themes, just a warning to anyone not interested in that.
When Mary died the lives of both John and Sherlock were turned upside down. Sherlock moved into their house to help John with Rosie, but mostly he was there for John. They hadn't discussed Sherlock moving in, but when he had shown up with a few bags and his violin John had invited him in, glad to have him there.
Sherlock slept on the couch-the only bedrooms were John's and the nursery, not that Sherlock minded. He would do whatever it took to make John happy. But John wasn't happy. There were those moments when he would lose himself in the moment, laughing and giggling at something Rosie had done while Sherlock laughed with him. Those moments soon went away, and then it was back to the way things were before.
One night Sherlock was putting Rosie to bed while John did the dishes from dinner. When Sherlock went into the kitchen a while later John was standing at the sink staring out the window, his fingers tightly gripping the edge of the counter. Sherlock leaned against the door frame and waited.
"How am I supposed to do this alone? I have this beautiful little girl who needs me, and I don't know how to do this without-" he couldn't finish the rest of the sentence. His fingers continued to grip at the edge of the counter, his knuckles white from the effort. Sherlock came and stood behind him, gently prying his hands away and turning John to face him.
"You are not alone, John. You will never be alone if you so choose," Sherlock said softly. John looked up at the detective, their eyes met and then John nodded. "What she needs now is for you to take care of yourself."
Sherlock guided John to the living room, his hand on the small of John's back as they walked. They settled onto the couch and Sherlock turned on the telly, just something to keep out the overwhelming silence.
"Thank you, Sherlock. I don't know how I could have gotten through the last few months without you." John put his hand on Sherlock's knee and gave it a gentle squeeze.
Sherlock made a habit of checking on both John and Rosie during the night. Most nights he would poke his head into John's room and once he confirmed that John was sleeping he would slip out and try and get some sleep himself. On rare occasions he would lean against the door frame and watch John sleep, trying to make sure that he wasn't having any nightmares or wasn't too restless.
One night when Sherlock went to check on John he found John curled in bed crying softly. For a moment Sherlock contemplated slipping away silently and not intruding but he decided that John needed the comfort.
Sherlock sat down next to John and gingerly placed a hand on John's shoulder. John went rigged for a moment and then he looked up at Sherlock. John re-positioned himself so that his head was in Sherlock's lap and after a while he stopped crying.
"The bed seems so big, and so empty with just me in it. Its such a silly thing to be upset over," John said. He blew his nose with the tissue Sherlock gave him and then dropped it on the nightstand.
"Its not a silly thing at all. If you would like I could...I could stay with you," Sherlock offered. He was hesitant, but his fear that John would reject him was outweighed by the knowledge that John was lonely.
"You'd do that for me?"
"I'd do anything for you."
John nodded and then moved over so that Sherlock could slip into bed. John laid his head on Sherlock's chest and placed his hand on his stomach. At the moment what he needed was to be close to Sherlock-he needed to feel his heart beating in his chest, and hear his steady breathing. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John, the position felt so natural. It was only when he was certain that John was asleep that Sherlock allowed himself to drift asleep.
They never slept alone after that night. Sherlock could always tell when John was having a particularly hard night because he would cling tighter to Sherlock, most nights though they respected each other's space. It became routine for them to go to bed together, though they never actually spoke of it.
Some nights John would rest his head on Sherlock's chest and Sherlock would wrap his arms around John. On those nights it always took longer for John to fall asleep, but Sherlock didn't mind. He would run his fingers through John's hair as they lay there, while John listened to his heartbeat; he needed to hear the life inside Sherlock's chest.
A few months after their new sleeping arrangement Sherlock was preparing tea when John came into the kitchen. He leaned against the counter and watched Sherlock for a few moments before closing the distance between them.
"John?" Sherlock was startled at this sudden invasion, but it only took him a moment to realize what John wanted.
John grabbed Sherlock's lapels and pulled him close, their chests bumped together at the same time that their lips came crashing together. For a moment Sherlock was too stunned to react but soon he had wrapped his arms around John and eagerly returned the kiss. This was what John needed-Sherlock could feel it in the urgency of the kiss. One of John's hands was tangled in Sherlock's hair, the other had untucked his shirt and was pressed against the hot skin of Sherlock's back.
John pushed Sherlock's jacket off his shoulders and was trying to get the buttons undone on his shirt. Sherlock didn't try to help him; he continued to kiss John, his hands gripping tightly at John's hips. Once Sherlock's shirt was open John began to trail kisses down his neck. Sherlock re-positioned his hips so that their erections were brushing against each other and the soft hiss John let out at the contact did not go unnoticed.
Sherlock undid John's jeans, unzipping them slowly to allow John the opportunity to back out if this was too much. But it wasn't too much, it was exactly what John needed. Sherlock sank to his knees and pulled out John's cock which he soon took into his mouth. John gasped and tangled his fingers in Sherlock's hair.
"Sherlock," John moaned. His hips were bucking in time with Sherlock's mouth. A few minutes later he was on the verge of an orgasm, his fingers still tangled in Sherlock's hair as he fought to hold on a little longer.
"Sherlock, I'm gonna come," John warned. Sherlock didn't pull off, instead he continued what he was doing and a moment later John came in Sherlock's mouth.
Sherlock stood up and wiped his mouth on a kitchen towel, then took a drink from the mug of tea that had been forgotten on the counter. John managed to get his jeans done up and then he sank to the floor in a slight daze. Sherlock sat down next to him and for a long time neither of them said anything.
"John, I wa-" Sherlock began but there was a knock at the door and both men were startled. They looked first at each other and then in the direction of the door.
"That will be Lestrade, he was going to drop off some case files for us to look at," Sherlock said as he buttoned up his shirt and ran his fingers through his hair.
"I'm going to check on Rosie," John mumbled as he slipped out of the kitchen. Sherlock watched him walk away and then went to greet Lestrade.
It became a weekly occurrence for them, one that they didn't talk about. Things didn't change drastically between them. Sherlock began to take more cases that he could solve from the house, still needing to be doing something but not wanting to be away from John for too long. When John began to feel lonely he would seek out Sherlock and it always ended the same-a hasty make out session and John coming in Sherlock's mouth.
John was sitting in bed one night after putting Rosie to bed, he was working on a blog entry. He hadn't posted much in the past year, but recently had started posting small commentaries on the small cases that Sherlock was working. It kept him busy and Sherlock was glad John was back to blogging. Sherlock stepped out of the bathroom, his hair still damp from his shower and wearing only pajama bottoms.
For a few moments he leaned against the bathroom door frame and watched John working, wondering what was going on in his mind. Sherlock could always see everything on everyone, but so often John was a mystery. When John needed something Sherlock could always see what it was, but now when Sherlock needed something-an answer to a question he was dreading asking-John was a blank slate.
"John, do you want more from me?" Sherlock asked. John's head snapped up and he looked at Sherlock, his eyes flickering for a moment over Sherlock's bare chest, before his gaze settled on Sherlock's.
"What do you mean by more?" John asked. He shut his computer and set it on his nightstand while Sherlock came and sat down on his side of the bed.
"Do you want to make this a permanent living situation? Do you want to be with me?" He tried to hide the pain in voice, but he knew that John could see right through him.
"Do you?" John asked softly.
"I want to be with you always. I want to raise Rosie with you, I'd do whatever you wanted me to if I knew it would make you happy," Sherlock said. While he was talking he had stood up and circled the bed he was now standing in front of John.
"Sherlock, I'm not gay," John argued.
"I have never identified as either gay or straight, I preferred just to be who I am and have feelings for whomever I wanted. Society labels us, John, there is no reason for us to try and place those same labels upon ourselves, especially in regards to something as fluid as sexuality." He took a few steps closer to John who was still sitting on the bed and staring up at Sherlock with an almost defiant look on his face.
"Maybe you don't know who you are supposed to be with, what gender you should prefer, until the right person comes along. And even then, it could be years for you to finally realize it, being too stubborn in your belief that you aren't gay to realize you actually should be spending your life with a man and not a woman." Sherlock had raised his voice slightly, his chest was heaving slightly and John kept looking at it.
John stood up, his fingers twitched nervously at his sides. He took a small step toward Sherlock and reached out to grasp his hand. "I want more with you Sherlock, but it can't be here, in the house I shared with my wife. If you are serious about this then we need to get out and start somewhere that will be just ours." John stepped as close to Sherlock as he could and looked up into the detective's eyes.
"Back to Baker Street? Mycroft has been paying our rent so Mrs. Hudson hasn't had to rent it out," Sherlock offered. John chuckled and nodded, both men knew that Mycroft was paying the rent on the flat as well as the mortgage on the house. It was the closest to sympathy that Mycroft could offer.
"If that's what you want, then yes, we can go back to Baker Street." Sherlock wrapped his arms tightly around John and placed a kissed on the top of his head.
A/N: I have a lot of ideas on how to keep this story going, and I am going to work on them. Expect that there will be long delays between chapters. I rewrote a few sections of this story more than once just to make sure it was going where I wanted it to. I'm also really busy, with work and life. I hope you've enjoyed it so far, I would like to know what y'all think! Until next time!