A/N: Thank you all for the supportive review, they really make my day. I'd also like to say thank you to those of you who have already faved and alerted. It means a lot to me. Anyway, enjoy the chapter.

CHAPTER FOUR

"Are you sure Sherlock? I don't mind."

"No John. I am perfectly capable of taking the couch. It is your room now."

"Alright, but I warn you, you won't get much sleep."

"I've told you before John, sleep is boring."

John laughed. "Yeah, I remember. Well, good night then." John lifted the Moses basket off the stand and carried it into his room. Beth had been put to bed several hours earlier after a bath.

Finally alone, Sherlock stretched himself out on the bed and closed his eyes. Despite what he'd said he found he was actually tired. It was most probably down to jet lag as well as the excitement of the day. It didn't take him long to fall asleep.

As promised, he didn't get a restful night. At one in the morning he was awoken by a high pitched crying and the sound of movement in the kitchen. He'd rolled of the couch half asleep and made it to the connecting door when his mind had provided the information of a crying baby and his current surroundings.

"Sorry." John had mumbled as he'd struggled to hold a wailing infant and prepare a bottle.

"Here, let me." Sherlock had stepped forward.

John handled over Junior without even thinking about it, and with both hands free had hurriedly prepared the bottle.

Sherlock watched his friend, swaying the baby from side to side, hoping to quieten it. When John knocked over the half-filled bottle, swore soundly and began again he knew his friend wasn't coping. "Do you want me to do that?"

"I'm fine. It's not the first bottle I've made at one in the morning Sherlock, and it won't be the last. - There see, all done. I'll take him no…"

Sherlock snatched the warm bottle from his friend's hand. "I assume it is of an adequate temperature?"

John glared which the detective took to mean yes and gentle lifted it to the baby's lips. Junior closed his mouth around it and began to suck.

"Go to bed John."

"What?"

"You are exhausted. Go to Bed. I will look after everything."

John stared at his friend skeptically but after a moment he turned around and walked blindly back to his bed. Passing out almost the moment his head hit the pillow.

Sherlock sat down on the kitchen chair to feed the baby. He couldn't think of him as his son, he was John son. But he did feel as connection to the small creature and he wondered if it was what most people referred to as a paternal bond. He sat examine the child closely. Unlike Beth, he could see nothing of himself in the infant, though it was unlikely he would, the thing couldn't be more than a few weeks old. It had little hair, what it did have, was a light gingery blond, his eyes were blue, but then all babies eyes were blue. He had pouty lips and reddened cheeks. - Just a normal baby.

It didn't take the baby long to finish his bottle, showing a healthy appetite. Sherlock grabbed the tea-towel off the table and draped it over his shoulder before lifting the infant and gently rubbing circles into his back. Nothing happened for a while. Then there was a quiet little release of air. Sherlock lowered Junior and removed the towel. Turning he made his way into his old room, pushing the door open gently he paused as the sight of John sleeping. With a sigh, he lifted the basket and carried it back to the living room, placing it on the stand; he laid Junior back down, the baby already fast asleep. Figuring there was no point sleeping as he would be awoken again in a few hours for another feed, he decided to nose around the flat.

It didn't take him long to locate the documents obtaining to the children. The first thing he saw was the custody papers, signed by Harry Watson and witnessed by Mrs. Hudson and who he could only assume was a solicitor. The papers made it very clear that both children were legally John Watson's, Harry signing away all her parental rights to her brother. Sherlock came to the conclusion there and then that Harry wasn't quite the selfish individual he'd thought her to be. Along with the custody papers he found the birth certificates. Sitting in his chair, he looked at the two certificates with a strange sense of wonder, something Sherlock was not in the slightest bit used to. In his right hand he held Beth's… or as the paper clarified, Elisabeth Helen Holmes, born 7th April 2013. Beneath Sherlock stared at his own name, printed in black ink. Sherlock Winston Holmes. He felt his heart jump at actually seeing it written down, genuine proof of his claim to the child.

He turned his attention to his left hand and Junior's certificate. He wasn't at all surprised to see the child shared his Christian name; it was a rather obvious deduction when you looked at the evidence. It was the middle name that slightly surprised him and gave a bizarre sense of warmth. Sherlock John Holmes, 8th January 2015. Sherlock lips pulled into a smile. The child carried both their names.

Sherlock hadn't known he'd dozed off until he was awoken but the predicted wail of Junior. Placing the certificates on the table top, Sherlock leapt to his feet and retrieved the child from its basket, carrying him into the kitchen he quickly discovered just how difficult it was to move around preparing a bottle with a baby in his arms. Deciding that he could not hold the infant and do a satisfactory job at preparing a bottle, he carried him back into the living room, laid him back in his bed and just left him to cry. He went back to his work, and found the task achieved with more speed with both hands free, he was finished in no time. He checked the temperature on his wrist as Mrs. Hudson had taught him before retrieving Junior and settling down on the sofa for the four A.M feed.

~SHERLOCK~

Mrs. Hudson entered the room the next morning and stopped with a start. It was going to take her a while to get used to seeing the detective lazing around the flat again, but her shock vanished the instant she saw him lying awkwardly stretched out on the sofa with a small baby safely cradled in his arms. It was possibly the most heartwarming moment of her life, well after Beth and Junior's birth of course. She was still standing there gazing at them when John strolled in.

"Morning Mrs. Hud…."

"Shhh."

John looked at the couch and for what felt the thousandth time he stopped short and his mouth fell open, as he saw his best friend and son lying asleep together on the couch.

"Isn't it the cutest thing you've ever seen?" Mrs. Hudson whispered.

"Huh…." he couldn't speak for the shock.

"I'll go and get Beth."

John didn't acknowledge Mrs. Hudson's statement; instead he dropped down on the arm of his chair and just stared at the couch.

"Were you never taught it's rude to stare John?" Sherlock said, startling the doctor.

"Huh… sorry I just…never thought I'd…"

"Could you please retrieve your son, my arm has gone to sleep." he moaned.

"Oh, right." John rushed forward and lifted the baby, laying him down in his bed.

"Sleep well?" Sherlock asked, sitting up and rubbing his arm to get feeling back into it.

"Er, yes thank you. You didn't have to…"

"You clearly needed the sleep John, it was the least I could do. - Now what's for breakfast."

John rolled his eyes as he started for the kitchen. "Finished with the help then? Bored already?"

"My arm is still half numb and I would hate for there to be an accident. Beside, breakfast was always your job."

"It was my job, because if I didn't make you breakfast in the morning you'd never eat."

"Precisely, as the old adage goes John. - If it ain't broke, don't fix it."

"Dody." said a sleepy voice capturing the pair's attention.

"Morning little one." John said, dropping a kiss to her dark curls.

Mrs. Hudson handed the child to her father. "What would you two like for breakfast? I know what Beth wants."

"You don't have to Mrs. Hudson, I'll do…"

"Nonsense, sit down and relax."

John sighed as the woman marched into the kitchen like a sergeant major. "You know she's only being nice because of you, she's been a beast while you were away." John stated.

"I heard that." Mrs. Hudson shouted back, throwing a tea-towel at the back of John's head and causing Beth to giggle.

John turned in his seat. "Are you calling me a liar?"

"The only reason I wasn't making your breakfast, lunch and dinner was because you wouldn't let me, John. You were determined to take care of everything on your own."

John dropped his gaze with a sigh. It was true, he'd been so dependent on Sherlock, at least emotionally, that after his death he'd pushed people away. He hadn't wanted to get that attacked to anyone again. Then the children had come alone, at like their father four years earlier, they'd saved him. But he'd still been determined not to give away all his control.

He turned his head and noticed the papers. "Been nosing again I see. Nice to know you never change."

"I was curious." Sherlock answered.

"Well you know what curiosity did, don't you?" John turned a raised bow to Sherlock.

"I can't understand why you'd name him Sherlock."

"You can't? Of course you can't, you never understand…."

"What I mean to say is, he might have been better off with a more…acceptable name. I remember very clearly what it was like growing up with it….though Mycroft suffered more." he added with glee.

John shook his head. "I know it's usual but I always liked your name. Beside it's only what's on his certificate, everyone refers to him as Junior anyway."

"Dody, cusid." Beth interrupted.

John shook his head.

"Does she mean custard?" Sherlock frowned. "Do you give her custard for breakfast?"

"Yes, and of course I bloody don't, what kinda of father do you think I am." John snapped, before dropping his gaze to his daughter. "Later."

Beth looked up at her father and pouted.

"That ain't working either." John said. Lord it was irritating how much like Sherlock she was. Before he had found it endearing, she was a living reminder of his best friend. Now though, with Sherlock back in their lives, he knew he was in for trouble.

Beth turned on her heels and marched, unsteadily away towards Sherlock. She may have Sherlock's temperament but she had John walk. Pausing in front of the detective she met his gaze. "Cusid."

John groaned and couldn't stop the giggle. "Fast learner." he murmured.

Sherlock returned the little girls hard look and shook his head. "Your father said no, and I agree with him completely. Custard is not for breakfast."

If looks could kill, Sherlock would be lying under that gravestone engraved with his name. Beth glared at him for a few moments before huffing and walking away. John couldn't help but laugh; finally Sherlock would know how it felt. The little girl strolled over to the grey leather chair, pulling herself up onto it; she turned around to face the TV, before looked at John with that pout again.

"Keytoons." She demanded in a very Sherlock like manner.

John waited a moment before rolling she eyes and getting up to turn on the telly.

"You should not allow her to talk to you like that John." Sherlock observed.

"I shouldn't allow you to talk to me like it either. But it never stopped you bossing me around, or me jumping to do your bidding. As I said, like father, like daughter." He grumbled, dropping into the chair opposite the dark hair little girl.

~SHERLOCK~

John and Sherlock were sat at the table eating their breakfast while Beth sat in Sherlock's chair watching cartoons and eating jammy toast, when Mrs. Hudson delivered the papers to them.

"Thank you Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock said warmly, taking the large broadsheet while John took the tabloids. The front page to all said that Sherlock's 'leaked' files had been believed.

SHERLOCK HOLMES LIVES, JIM MORIARTY WAS REAL. Stated the Sun in large black print.

While The Mirror carrying the headline. SUN REPORTOR INVESTIGATED OVER LINKS WITH CRIMINAL MASTERMIND.

John couldn't help but grin at that. Kitty Riley had made quite a name for herself after supposedly exposing Sherlock to be a fraud, it was only right that she get a little pay back.

Glancing over to Sherlock he saw the headline of the large broadsheet.

GOVERNMENT HIRES SHERLOCK HOLMES TO BRING DOWN INTERNATIONAL CRIMINAL.

"I guess you're clear."

"Hmm." Sherlock folding the pages back on themselves so as to scanned the obituary column.

"You'll be back to work in no time Sherlock." Mrs. Hudson announced cheerfully, placing a tea pot on the table.

"Yes."

"What will you do about an assistant?" John asked, trying to sound casual.

"Won't you be helping him?"

"John has decided to forgo returning to his blog in-lue of being a GP and father." Sherlock replied, never lifting his gaze from the paper.

"But you loved writing your blog. - If this is about the children, you have Mary and Me."

"It's not just about that." John said tightly, his voice low. "It's dangerous and I have responsibilities."

Mrs. Hudson looked at him sadly.

"It'll be fine, Sherlock worked perfectly well on his own before I came along. Beside it's probably best if he keeps a low profile from now on." John insisted, staring at the paper behind with Sherlock was hiding.

Mrs. Hudson looked between her boys. "Well, if you say so." she sighed. "I'll leave to two alone. Call me if you need anything."

"Thank you Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock replied, turning his paper with a huff of frustration.

"What's wrong, nothing interesting?"

"Nothing worthy of my time." Sherlock snapped, folding the paper and dropping it on the table. "Mycroft, you brought my things, I assume."

John turned to find Mycroft stood in the doorway. He really hated it when he did that.

Mycroft arrived. He strolled into the blissful domestic scene. "I am not your personal shopper Sherlock."

Sherlock glanced up from his breakfast to meet his brother gaze. "Are you not?"

The two brothers shared a challenging look before Mycroft huff in defeat. "Downstairs."

Sherlock smirked at John, who shook his head and rolled his eyes. Back to normal.

Mycroft glanced at the child sitting on the gray chair, staring up at him with a penetrating gaze. "Where will you be staying?"

"Here of course." Sherlock replied with a confused frown.

John turned in his chair.

"So you intend to continue sleeping on the couch?" Mycroft asked, attempting to ignore little girls gaze.

Neither Sherlock nor John replied, they hadn't really discussed or thought about what they would do long term. The only thing they knew was that neither of them wanted Sherlock to leave. John would never admit it but he wanted Sherlock back in his life permanently, even though he didn't want to work with him. The idea of him moving out was inconceivable.

"We'll work something out." John said insistently.