benedicted-cumberbatched wrote: it's been so long since I've written Warstan or John and Mary in general that I've almost forgotten how to write them :3
So here is a helpful reminder! The tips are 1) They love each other, and 2) See Tip 1. Look how easy it is! ;P
"Mary!" John bellowed down the basement stairs. "Where are the nappies?"
"In the cupboard where they've always been!" Mary yelled back up to him. "Where's the baby, John?"
"In her cot, don't worry, I have everything under control!" John shouted back, then hurried back up to the second floor bedroom where his six-month-old daughter was waiting for him, gurgling and chewing on her toes.
Stark naked. Shaking his head, John grumbled to himself about juvenile nudists before rummaging around in the cupboard. Triumphantly emerging with the nappies, he scooped up his daughter and carried her to the changing table. "Your godfather and I are going to have words," he told her as she grinned and reached for his nose. "And perhaps your Mummy and I as well," he added, leaning down to plant a noisy raspberry on her belly. "I know I only take my clothes off for very specific reasons, young lady, and if I find out Mummy and Uncle Sherlock were getting chummy behind my back, I'll…"
"You'll what?" came Mary's amused voice from behind him. "Change her name to Sheryl and pack us off to live at Baker Street? I doubt Molly would appreciate that, darling!"
John gave his wife an affectionate smile as she crossed the room and came to stand next to him. He slid an arm around her waist, the other hand firmly keeping his squirming daughter from rolling off the changing table. "I'll tell Sherlock he's been a terrible influence on our child, of course," he replied, then pressed a soft kiss to his wife's lips. He'd wasted so much time when he'd discovered she'd lived a different life before becoming 'Mary Morstan'; his struggle to understand why she'd lied, why she'd done the things she'd done had gone on for months longer than it should have. Especially since Sherlock had forgiven her for shooting him even while still recovering from the wound!
Well, things were different now. Mary had lied, yes, but not about the important bits. She hadn't lied about loving him, and he'd never stopped loving her even when he thought he should. She'd panicked when she thought her past was about to take her away from the man she loved, and that was something John could understand. Yes, it had taken time, but that was all behind them now. They were here, together with their amazing daughter; Sherlock had finally admitted his feelings for Molly Hooper, the Moriarty situation had been dealt with, and the future, for once, looked cautiously optimistic.
"You're doing it again," Mary said, interrupting his thoughts.
"Doing what?" he asked, busying himself with putting the fresh nappy on Isabelle, who was kicking enthusiastically and attempting to roll on her side and thwart him in his efforts. All par for the course.
"You're thinking about the past and fretting a bit about the future," Mary replied, leaning her head on his shoulder and smiling down at Isabelle.
"Spot on as always," John said lightly, then lifted his daughter up and cuddled her close. "I'm a worrier, Mary, can't help it. But," he added as he gently handed their daughter to her mother, "I'm also the luckiest man on the planet, even if I don't always feel like I deserve to be. I love you," he added, once again pressing a kiss to Mary's lips. "Both of you. So much."
"And we love you too, John Watson," Mary replied, returning the kiss. Isabelle made a discontented noise, no doubt at being squished a bit; laughing, her parents pulled apart and returned their attention to her. "However, Miss Isabelle definitely needs to put her pyjamas back on. I still don't understand how she manages the snaps at her age," she added, but with a gleam of pride in her eyes.
John harumphed but headed for the crib to grab the discarded clothes. "I'm betting her godfather has something to do with that," he grumbled. "Wouldn't surprise me in the least." He shook his head. "Who would have expected him to be such a…a…baby whisperer?"
Mary laughed, and Isabelle giggled as her mother rubbed their noses together. "Well," she said as John started the fight to get Isabelle back into her clothes, "we'll see soon enough how he manages with his own baby."
John paused, staring at her while Isabelle gleefully kicked her feet free of the pyjama bottoms John had just started to put on her. "Wait…are you saying…Molly's…."
"Pregnant," Mary replied with a cheerful grin. "And Sherlock, poor lamb, has no idea. Which is why the three of us are going over for dinner tonight. Molly's going to tell him and she wanted us to see his reaction. After all, it's not every day she manages to keep something hidden from him for almost two months!"