Unrequited, But Not Much Longer

by Rini2012

REWRITE OF SEASON 4 John Watson has woken up from a coma only to find out that everything that happened in The Final Problem was part of a coma dream. Not only that, but Sherlock has child-proofed the flat and had been taking care of Rosie during the 2 month period John was unconscious. For years the two were willing to die for each other, but for both of them, it runs much deeper

4. Chapter 4-Messages

Author's Note: Zee wasn't able to go over the changes our beta reader suggested as she isn't feeling well and therefore wasn't able to do final edits. If there are mistakes, I highly recommend that you mention them in the comments. I am not as much of a perfectionist as Zee, so please let me know where things are incorrect.

Much love, Becs aka Rini2012

Sherlock answered the doorbell to Mycroft in his three piece suit and usual umbrella.

"You know I'd rather receive a text, brother, than you without warning."

Mycroft rolled his eyes and gave a small sigh.

"Is it not possible for me to visit my little brother without snide remarks?"

"I highly doubt it. You may as well come upstairs."

"Such a gracious host you are. Mummy would be appalled."

They arrive upstairs where John was in the lounge with Rosie playing with the bumblebee, zooming it above her head and having it boop her on the nose which in turn made her laugh. John looked up and saw Mycroft, haughty air and all.

"Mycroft." He greeted.

Rosie looked up too and waved at Mycroft with her dummy in her mouth.

"I'm surprised she remembers you at all, she hasn't seen you since John came home from the hospital." Sherlock observed.

"Is it really that surprising with how fast she's learning?" John said.

"If she remembers him, I clearly need to teach her to delete things before that hard drive fills up with rubbish."

"If I don't visit, I'm terrible. If I do visit, her mind is filled with 'rubbish'... You are not leaving me any options, Sherlock." Mycroft jeered.

"That's the way I most prefer you."

"No fighting in front of the baby please." John interjected.

Rosie took the dummy out of her mouth.

"No fight, Papa."

"Okay Honeybee, Papa won't fight with Uncle Myc anymore."

Mycroft eyed his brother in snark.

"It seems you've skipped the whole marriage part of this family business, brother mine."

Sherlock blushed and said to Rosie.

"Call him Uncle MIKE, he hates that."

Rosie giggled and put the dummy back in her mouth.

"No cookies for you later, Rosamund." Sherlock teased.

Mycroft cleared his throat and tilted his head toward the kitchen.

"Sherlock, John, tea?"

Sherlock and Mycroft moved into the kitchen, it was clear Mycroft hadn't merely appeared for a visit. Once they were in the kitchen, Sherlock could see the pleasantry mask slip away. There was obviously something important happening for The British Government.

"Have we kept you from something important with our little family, brother dear?"

"This is rather urgent, Sherlock, I have evidence about the rogue agent who shot Doctor Watson."

Sherlock leaned forward, interested and also not wanting John or Rosie in the next room to hear this.

"There was a recording device left in the house where he was attacked, and the agent was unable to retrieve it before the police arrived. I acquired a hacker to decode the audio, and we were able to track down via voice recognition who this agent is."

Mycroft pulled a file out of his suit jacket.

"No one knows where her current whereabouts are, and she has not been a part of MI6 for quite some time." Mycroft explained. "She was one of the agents sent to assist in watching Eurus while she was institutionalized. It was meant as an assignment to help her start in MI6, but not long after Eurus was released, she disappeared."

"So she's had MI6 training and some field experience and clearly is capable of living off the grid so to speak. How do you propose I find this person?"

"As always, I leave the legwork to you, brother. You are the great consulting detective after all, find a way."

"The only consulting detective, Mycroft."

"Of course."

A squeal interrupted their conversation and upon further inspection, John was gently bouncing Rosie up and down on his knee to the tempo of a song. Specifically Rossini's William Tell Overture: Final. John wasn't bouncing his knee too much as to not hurt Rosie's neck, but she was still laughing and squealing with joy.

"I believe this is my cue to leave."

John looked up in confusion but didn't stop bouncing.

"You didn't even have the tea you said you wanted."

He stopped in realization of what was going on.

"It's about me isn't it?"

Sherlock looked pointedly at John.

"Not at all, John, we just decided not to have tea. Say goodbye to Uncle Myc, Rosie."

Rosie took out her dummy and waved a little 'bye-bye' with the other hand.

"Goodbye Rosamund, John. Sherlock - I trust you'll see me out."
"Bye Mycroft."

Sherlock walks his brother downstairs and out to his waiting town car. He decides to fill John in as soon as Rosie has a nap.

A few days later, John went to the clinic at his usual time. Everything seemed normal, but something was waiting for him at the reception desk.

"Doctor Watson." The nurse said. "There's a package for you."

She handed him a small white paper package, which he looked over a bit, and said thank you to the nurse before going into is office. He sat his bag on the desk before he opened it. It was a disk that said 'Miss You'. It could be one of two people, but he figured he needed to find out now. Thankfully his computer in the office was a PC, so he could watch it easily. The person who came on screen immediately made his heart shatter:

Mary

"I know, you thought I only had one last message before," She said. "But if I've passed on, I have one more task for you and for Sherlock:

"Get off your arses and tell each other how you feel.

"I remember what you told me, John. I remember that night you broke down in my arms after our first date. You said you felt like you were betraying Sherlock because you wanted to pursue a relationship with me, and because I was there for you after the fall. But I told you,

'You aren't betraying him. He'd want you to be happy with whoever you decided even if it's not me.'

"And knowing you now, you'll feel like you'll betray me by being with Sherlock. Funny bit of irony isn't it?"

She smiled fondly.

"John, listen: you are not betraying me by being in love with Sherlock, you are denying yourself the perfect man for you, and before you say your classic 'I'm not gay', your love for Sherlock doesn't mean you are gay. I wouldn't have married you if you were. I love you John Watson, so does he, and we both want you to be happy. So please, tell him the truth, and accept it yourself.

"You're in love with Sherlock Holmes, and always have been.

"But I know for a fact you don't regret Rosie. If there was one reason you wouldn't do it all over again with me it's Rosie. Don't focus your sole energy on Sherlock since he does feel the same."

John almost said something in response, but she put her hand up to stop him.

"My video for Sherlock is telling him you are in love with him and that he shouldn't get cold feet about telling you how he feels. I'm telling you the same thing Captain John Watson. Use that bravery and compassion that helped you save your fellow soldiers in the war to tell him those three simple words:

"I love you."

"I know you will have watched the original video I made for Sherlock to have him save you by now, knowing your need to snoop around, so when I said 'The man we both love' it was me affirming that I knew about his feelings towards you.

"This doesn't mean anything changes in your little business, it just adds something behind the scenes. The danger you love will always be there, the thrill of the chase, all of it. The only thing that will be different is that you two know you love each other."

She took a deep breath as if not to cry.

"I love you and Rosie so much, John. Don't forget that. Goodbye."

Then it stopped. John didn't know what to think or what to do. His dead wife just sent him a message telling him to confess to the man he still loves and would die for. It was true, he didn't date because he still loved Mary, but it was hard to even fathom everything she had just said. She could be wrong about how Sherlock felt, except she was a great judge of character. It was scary at times actually.

He rested his head in his hands and the tears silently fell. He had so much to lose if things went horribly wrong, but at the same time he knew he needed to finally confess what he felt for Sherlock. It was by far one of the hardest things he had ever had to do.

John had gone to work. Without Rosie, Sherlock would be bored, but this particular child could keep him entertained endlessly. They were busy putting alphabet cut-outs into the correct places on the foam mat when Mrs. Hudson came upstairs.

"Yoohoo!" She greeted. "Sherlock dear, I've got a package for you."

"Where does the 'S' go, Rosie? Oh Mrs Hudson, thank you, you can leave it on the coffee table."

"I think this may be important, dear, come over and look what it says."

Sherlock got up, making certain Rosie was propped up and could be left alone for a few minutes. He made his way over the toys to the coffee table where Mrs. Hudson held out a white envelope.

"See, it's just like that other one."

Sherlock held the white envelope with the clear panel showing a solid white DVD with "Miss Me?" written on it. His hands shook as he put the DVD into John's old laptop on the coffee table, which still had a tray for discs. He was standing opposite the couch when Mary's face came onto the screen.

"Hello Sherlock. I know that you thought my last message was going to be the final one, but if you're watching this, I'm dead, and have been for a few months. I timed these messages out so I could help you and John out with one more case.

"If you don't know by now, this'll be the first you hear about it: John is in love with you, and I know you love him too.

"If he hasn't moved into Baker Street with Rosie already, he's too afraid to ask. If he has moved in, you're on the right track. See, when John was mourning your fake suicide, he told me that he loved you so much, and he was going to tell you but then you jumped. He almost felt like he was betraying you by starting to date me."

Sherlock tried to go into his Mind Palace

"Don't go into your Mind Palace to see if John showed any signs, he was denying it for years before he came to terms with it.

"I know he loves us both dearly, but he doesn't want to leave me just because you came back. He isn't even sure you'll love him back like he loves you. If I'm gone, I want him to have the happiness he denied himself for years with you.

"I'm telling you, Sherlock Holmes, to get off your arse and tell him how you feel. Before you think I'm just making it up or saying that you aren't really into romanticism, I know three things for sure:

You're gay or demisexual, it doesn't matter.

You were so torn up about me and John getting married that you just wanted it over and done with so you could wallow in peace.

You love him enough that you'd die for him, like you did before (well, almost did before).

"So don't waste any time, Sherlock. I am sending John a message too telling him the same truths and to get the hell on with it.

"I know you two can be more than just an amazing duo, it also meant being a family. You two will be the best role models for Rosie if I'm gone, and she needs the stability that both of you can provide. There's no doubt she'll be an amazing woman one day, but she needs parents to lead her down that path. You and John will be her guides, so even if you two don't last long, at least live together for Rosie."

She smiled for a moment.

"Good luck Sherlock. Don't get cold feet about this."

Sherlock sat down on the floor in front of the laptop, he was stunned into silence. He then realised Mrs Hudson had just witnessed the whole thing. He wondered briefly if she had something to do with the videos, it just seemed too convenient for her to always 'find' them.

"Mrs Hudson, I'd like to be left alone, please."

Sherlock thought he must be shell-shocked for that to have come out so politely.

"Of course dear."

Sherlock merely glared at her until she left, in a bit of a huff. His own thoughts were far more jumbled than he could immediately deal with, he felt overwhelmed. He took several long breaths, as he had been taught, to stave off a panic attack, got up from the floor, checked that Rosie was still playing on the mat. She had actually spelled out a word: Red. She looked up at Sherlock for approval.

"Wow, Rosie, that's fantastic. Do you know that says RED?"

"Obviously."

"Rosie, can you be a good girl for Papa for a few minutes? Just stay where you are and keep playing. Can you do that?"

"Yeah."

"Thanks Honeybee."

Sherlock took the laptop and some earphones and sat in his chair. He played the video twice more, until it was burned into his memory. He glanced over and saw Rosie spelling BLU, he'd have to explain about the E later. There was just too much information vying for space in his working memory. The violin - that would help, and it would keep Rosie entertained as well. Then maybe, Sherlock could remember how to breathe normally again.

He moved closer to Rosie and took his violin out of the case, in his agitation he played Mozart's Flight of the Bumblebee, it was a technically difficult piece that always helped to calm his racing mind. Rosie clapped her hands when he finished. Afterwards he picked her up and soothed her, trying to get her to sleep.

"Papa, play Moana." Rosie requested.

Sherlock obliged with his rendition of 'How Far I'll Go', and Rosie's eyes began to grow heavy-lidded. This was the perfect time for her nap. He put the violin down, picked the baby up again and laid her down to rest in the crib in his room. He took the baby monitor's receiver with him as he retreated to the lounge.

Half an hour later, Sherlock was still pacing restlessly up and down in the lounge, he was sure he'd been talking to himself, but he wasn't listening to what he had been saying. JOHN! John might love Sherlock in the same way he felt for him in the deep recesses of his locked box in a locked room, that was being renovated into a locked vault… No, it was impossible. Could Mary be correct?

There were far too many speculations and no concrete answers to be had. The wait for John to get home would be interminable.

When John got home, everything felt awkward. John didn't know how to approach Sherlock after the message he got, and he didn't know what Sherlock would do in turn if he indeed got a video as well. He stopped in the doorway to the flat and just look at Sherlock for a moment. He looked haggard.

Sherlock had been unable to stop thinking about the video, Rosie had chosen today to be in an especially exuberant mood, she had been starting to crawl in the past week and today, she mastered it. He had been trying to keep her in the lounge like some deranged game of bumper cars. All while his mind wouldn't rest.

John could see how tired Sherlock was. He couldn't blame him because of Rosie, but was it also because of a possible video? He didn't know, and that was what scared him. Sherlock hadn't even noticed him yet, which meant he was extremely deep in thought. That was either a good or bad sign. John decided to get his attention and cleared his throat.

Sherlock looked up, startled, the moment he'd been waiting for since the video had arrived, had passed him by, damn, he'd needed to see John's first expression as he walked through the door. It would have told him volumes, but he had missed it. He merely looked at John, who by now had schooled his features into something neutral and said

"Rosie has mastered crawling." Sherlock sighed

"I've been fearing this day…" He said with a forced smile.

"Be thankful you've been at work. She has bested me."

"The great Sherlock Holmes bested by a five month old?"

"Indeed, is that Thai food? I think I might actually be starving."

John held up the bag the tied plastic bag.

"Yeah, figured we could use some takeaway."

John went to the kitchen and sat the food on the table, where the baby monitor was. Over it, he could just hear the snuffles of a little girl.

"Is she upstairs or in your room?"

"My room. I wasn't letting her near the stairs if she learns to climb them - we might never know peace again."

Sherlock slung his legs over the armrest of his chair, twisting until he was draped over both sides like a cat.

John's eyes wandered down the lithe body in the lounge, but he quickly averted his eyes and went to Sherlock's room, to find Rosie standing in the crib and holding herself up on the side of the crib. She held her hand out to him.

"Daddy!"

"Hello Rosebud!"

He picked her up and placed a noisy kiss on her cheek.

"Were you good for Papa?"

"Papa's acting weird."

John gave her a confused look.

"Weird? Weird how?"

"Quiet, and, uh thinking lots."

Maybe that was a little indication that Sherlock was feeling similar to John, but he wasn't going to jump to conclusions. Mary had said that Sherlock would be receiving a similar video so it was probably about that.

"I'll handle that, don't worry."

John took Rosie out to the kitchen where he fixed her a bottle, and Sherlock had already set up their dinner. Thankfully, the deficits weren't as bad as they were before, so he was able to handle everything easily and had Rosie up in her highchair with a bottle in no time.

Sherlock had spotted John's eyes on him as he stretched on his chair earlier and now John seemed to be using Rosie as a human shield, appearing to pay no attention to Sherlock… that was interesting. John then sat down with a plate and put his food on it. He reached for a spoon and fork but Sherlock stopped him.

"Chopsticks, John."

"Is this still part of that physiotherapy boll - stuff?"

"Of course, it's part of her 'continued rehabilitation program,' you need to use them as often as possible."

John gritted his teeth and looked like he'd quite like to say a few swear words, but was hindered only by the baby. Sherlock wasn't sure what to make of this, did people who were in love with you still look at you like they were considering strangling you? Was that yet another facet of relationships he had no clue about? He was tying himself into knots over this, and the result was making him sound irritated and sarcastic. This certainly wasn't how he envisioned sentimental relationships, John may as well be his brother right now - and that was a train of thought that should never have left the station.

"Fine, I'll use the bleeding chopsticks."

Sherlock lazily dished up his own food, he decided to use chopsticks as well, to appease John. He made quick work of eating though - he really had felt starved.

John knew by the way Sherlock was eating that he didn't eat because of whatever was going on with him. He still didn't want to jump to conclusions, but it was getting extremely awkward between them. Meanwhile Rosie had set down her bottle and was looking at the two men with the same look Mary would give them if they were being incredibly thick.

"Daddy, Papa, be nice!"

"What do you mean Honeybee?"

She gestured to both of them.

"Acting weird."

"Papa's just tired from running after you all day." John said.

Rosie shook her head.

"You acting weird too. Both acting weird!"

"I'm sure Daddy's just tired from work. See, nothing weird." Sherlock assured.

Rosie rolled her eyes. She obviously didn't believe them.

"Not tired. You act different tired. Talk! Talk to Daddy!"

"Rosamund the only thing weird here is that you aren't in the bath yet." Sherlock countered. "Come, I'll help you."

Rosie was looking properly angry now, and flapped her arms around.

"No! You acting weird!"

It occurred to John that Rosie might have only been saying 'weird' because she didn't know another word for it yet. No doubt if she did, there would be more than 'acting weird' in her sentences. But obviously it was that she knew something was wrong, and that she wanted him and Sherlock to talk about it. Good, he wasn't the only one thinking Sherlock was acting off.

"John, please, talk some sense into your daughter."

He knew he sounded like a total arse, but the child would not let it go, she was far too perceptive for anyone's good right now and stubborn just like John.

"No. Talk to Daddy, Papa. Talk! Stop being weird!"

As if to make a point, she angrily picked up her bottle once more and continued to drink from it, all the while giving John and Sherlock a side-eye to say 'I'm watching you, you'd better talk'.

Rosie must have got her intuition from Mary because John was not that good at reading people. She wasn't even five months old, how could she do that!? Instead of talking, he just silently ate his food and looked down at the table.

"Fine. John, lovely to see you, how was your day?

John caught on quickly and began to chat cheerfully.

"My day was full of sinusitis and bronchitis patients, and everyone with any kind of sniffle. Did you have a nice day at home?" He said with a forced smile.

"Yes! Rosie kept me busy all day, this morning she spelled RED with the foam letters."

Rosie groaned and laid her head on the table with a muttered 'weird'.

"It really is time for a bath though." John said.

John figured he should give Rosie her bath since he was at work, so he cleaned up his plate and got Rosie out of her high chair.

"Can you handle the rest?"

"Certainly. Goodnight John, Rosie."

"Night night Papa."

When John turned to the bathroom, Rosie could see over his shoulder, so she gave Sherlock a pointed look of 'stop acting weird' before they disappeared into the bathroom.

Sherlock sighed, that had gone about as well as any trainwreck could be expected to. He resolved that if he and John did decide to talk, it would not be in the presence of the world's most stubborn child. His head was actually swimming with exhaustion as he rinsed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher. He even managed to wipe the table and Rosie's highchair with disinfectant before collapsing on the couch. He longed for a shower, but the main en-suite was occupied and he had endured quite enough pointed looks from a 5 month old for one day.

Even the child could sense the tension in the air - Mary had definitely sent John a video too, and he had watched it, and it must have run along a very similar theme to his video. She had been correct on every point in her video to him, surely she could only have been more accurate with John's. He wondered briefly what John was feeling and whether this day had been so overwhelming for him as well. Surely seeing his departed wife had been enough of a shock, let alone the things she had probably said. Sherlock flung his arm over his eyes to block out the dim light and fell into a shallow sleep, full of strange dreams of Rosie yelling 'weird!' at everyone and he and John both being struck dumb.

Meanwhile in the bathroom Rosie was having just a blast with her bubbles. She was splashing and laughing at the little washcloth puppet John was using. He was glad she at least wasn't going on about them being weird while having a bath, that would have crossed the line. John couldn't help but think that maybe Rosie was right, maybe they just needed to talk it out. If only adult problems were that simple. The difference was a whole household was hanging in the balance if everything Mary said turned out to be wrong. Sherlock could have been acting weird because Mary thought the wrong thing and it made him uncomfortable that she assumed what she did? Or maybe she was right and he didn't know how to approach the subject. There were too many possibilities and he was a bit afraid to choose which one it was in case he was wrong.

Rosie seemed to notice the tension in him, as she placed a foamy hand on John's cheek and patted it a bit.

"No mad at Papa again."

"I'm not mad, Rosie. Everything's fine."

"Then why acting weird?"

John inwardly groaned at the word again. He was sure he wouldn't be able to hear that word again without thinking of this day. He sighed.

"Something happened today, and I don't know what to do about it. I think Papa had something happen too, but we… I guess we don't know how to talk about it."

Rosie looked confused.

"Papa doesn't know what to say?"

That made John laugh. She was right, Sherlock lived to explain and talk, yet he didn't know how to approach this. Once he stopped laughing, he pressed a kiss on Rosie's wet head.

"I don't think he does."

Rosie looked absolutely astonished at that fact. She obviously already knew Sherlock talked all the time, so this was a phenomenon for her.

John decided to continue playing with the toys and washing her off, so that he would stop thinking about the epiphany his almost five month old had given him. She was clean and the bathtub drained, he toweled her off and put her in a new diaper. By then she was starting to doze off a bit, but asked for her bee. When he went out to the lounge to look for it, he saw Sherlock softly snoring on the couch. Rosie must have really done him in if he was already asleep. The bee was right by the coffee table, so John picked up the bee, then put the throw blanket over Sherlock before he went to Sherlock's room to sleep. He placed Rosie in her cot, and she was out like a light.

John decided to just do pants and his undershirt because he was too tired to go back upstairs. Once he was under the covers, he was a bit restless. Thoughts of what had happened that day kept coming back to him and he was replaying Mary's message in his head. What if she was wrong? What would happen to their friendship? He fell asleep with that fear in his mind.

A few hours later, Sherlock woke to find himself on the couch, covered in the throw, which he had not placed there himself. That was another bit of information he needed to consider, John must have covered him. He was yawning too much to think about that right now, he stumbled down the passage, feeling like he was back on drugs, the floor seemed so far away, he yawned again and stumbled into his bedroom. He'd become accustomed to sleeping on the left-hand side so he couldn't smell John on the pillow. He dropped his robe, glad that he was already in his blue silk pajamas and almost fell into the bed. He just managed to wriggle under the covers before drifting off into a deep sleep.

John woke up the next morning to his alarm, but something felt off. The bed was dipping on his left side, and it felt warmer under the covers. After he shut off his alarm, his confusion was cleared when he looked over to the source of warmth, only to see Sherlock Holmes sleeping soundly in the bed next to him. He almost yelped in surprise but stopped himself so he wouldn't wake Sherlock or Rosie. What the hell was Sherlock doing in the same bed as him? He clearly had to have known John was sleeping in here, so what was he doing fast asleep? Thank god he didn't awake to any other alarm except Rosie, or they'd be having an extremely awkward moment first thing in the morning.

Thankfully, Sherlock didn't wake up at all during his morning routine, nor did Rosie. It seemed both of them were out cold, and John made sure not to wake them when he left the flat. However, he didn't want to seem like a complete dickhead so he left a note for Sherlock.

Rosie woke Sherlock 10 minutes after John left the flat. He squinted up at her and saw that the other pillow had been slept on. One of John's hairs was stuck almost straight up in the air though the rest of the covers had been pulled closed, in John's military style. Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment and opened them again, the hair was still there, as was the increasingly fussy baby. How in the hell had he ended up here? He remembered being on the couch, John had even thrown the blanket over him. He didn't remember moving to the bed. That disturbed him immensely, this John-situation was clearly messing with his otherwise well-ordered mind.

He gave in to Rosie's increased moans and stretched as he got out of bed. He changed her nappy before returning to the room to find a new outfit for her. She'd outgrown so many of her clothes already and it was a chilly day so he found a new bee themed hoodie for her to wear on top of her yellow onesie. She looked adorable.

On the side table, he found a note from John that read,

'Don't know how you ended up in the bed since you were on the couch first. Didn't want to wake you. - John'

After reading it the true horror dawned on him... he had slept in the same bed as John, without knowing it and John had awoken to him in the bed next to him. He'd known, how must that have looked? Oh no, this was unacceptable. He was used to absolute control over his transport and now… now IT had transported him to sleep next to John. Nothing good could come of this. He actually groaned out loud at the thought.

"Bottle." Rosie said.

Sherlock clearly had too many Watsons to worry about in his life right now.

"Yes Honeybee, let's get you a bottle. And maybe Papa can manage some tea."

Sherlock sincerely hoped the little Watson hadn't seen him in bed with John. Going by her persistence last night, she'd never let that one go. He took her to the kitchen, fixed a bottle and soon her little mouth was occupied. He boiled the kettle and steeped his tea. He did not feel up to the task of handling the child all day. He would have to get back into Mrs. Hudson's good graces. Thinking quickly, he brewed a second cup of tea and delivered it to Mrs Hudson while Rosie was still occupied with her bottle.

When Mrs. Hudson opened the door, Sherlock put on his best smile.

"Good morning Mrs Hudson. I brought you a cup of tea."

Mrs. Hudson looked at Sherlock with a slightly confused and concerned look. She barely restrained herself from taking his temperature.

"Are you alright, dear?"

"Of course I'm alright. Why wouldn't I be alright?"

"You never usually bring me tea."

"It's an apology for being rude to you yesterday… with the video."

"You didn't need to. I understand that you were really confused and had a bit of a fright in the moment, so it's fine."

"I was wondering if you could take Rosie for the day." He realised that this had unconsciously been his goal when he dressed Rosie in that adorable hoodie. "As you can imagine, I have some things to sort out and Rosie's far too perceptive for anyone's good in this situation. John and I haven't spoken, dinner was a nightmare, and Rosie keeps telling us to talk to each other. She's a force of nature at times, just like her mother."

"Well I would think so." Mrs. Hudson declared. "She's a handful, especially since she's ahead of other children her age. If I had a child like her, I'd be driven absolutely mad and I wouldn't be able to keep up. My friend Julia had twins when she first got pregnant. She said she wouldn't have been able to raise them at all without her husband Bill. But at least it's you and John looking after Rosie, and not just one of you alone."

Sherlock had blocked out most of her rambling but he managed to catch the last line and make a decent response.

"I shudder at the very thought Mrs Hudson. Are you able to take her for the day? I must warn you, she's crawling now. It's probably best to keep her talking about anything other than me and John."

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind. Now you go get the little angel, and go rest. It looks like you need the day off."

"Mrs Hudson, you are a blessing I don't deserve."

Sherlock hurried upstairs to bring Rosie and her baby bag down with her little bee.

"Hello my little angel."

Mrs. Hudson took Rosie out of Sherlock's hands but Rosie didn't seem too happy to be handed off. In fact, she looked like she just wanted to be with Sherlock all day and was close to tears.

"Rosie, it's ok. Papa needs some extra rest because I was so tired last night. You're going to have a lovely day with Mrs. Hudson. Remember your Papa loves you very much."

Sherlock kissed both of her cheeks and she seemed to give a weak smile in return.

"Love you Papa."

"Love you too, Honeybee."

Sherlock went back upstairs glad to finally have some time alone with the myriad thoughts swirling endlessly through his brain. They needed some categorization, some organisation before they could truly be sorted out. Thinking of order and the importance of a clean mind, he took the shower he'd wanted to last night and changed into new pajamas and his blue silk robe. He was stressed and anxious with the thought of facing another night like the last one, that infernally perceptive child. He couldn't do it, maybe he'd just throw a strop and spend a few hours walking the streets, it had been awhile since he'd done that.

He was craving cigarettes but he knew actually smoking would be out of the question. Rosie couldn't be exposed to that, but perhaps… he could sneak a nicotine patch or two. This was quite possibly a three patch problem, but he didn't want that to be evident to John… maybe just the one. He realised that he'd been pacing again so he walked toward the bathroom cabinet where all things of danger to a child were now kept. He applied the patch to his shoulder, it shouldn't have been visible to John that way.

First, he consulted his Mind Palace. There may have been signs, he had searched briefly the day before, but if they were there, they were too subtle for him to have noticed… he used to be even more socially inept than he was now. Perhaps that very first dinner at Angelo's when he thought that John could be flirting and he gave his standard 'married to my work' line, had nipped the whole idea in the bud from the start. Had there been other instances?

The Woman spoke of them as if they were a couple, "Someone loves you. If I had to punch that face, I'd avoid your nose and teeth too", Mycroft and his snickering, even Moriarty and his talk about having his own live-in pet. Then there was the strange reaction of the Yarders when John kept coming along on cases, every time he'd praised Sherlock on a deduction there had been knowing looks passed around. Mrs Hudson said she saw it immediately… "there's a second bedroom upstairs, if you'll be needing two." How had HE not noticed? For him 'the feelings' had begun just after John saved his life by shooting the cabbie and declared him an 'idiot'. How had JOHN not noticed Sherlock's interest, had he actually hid it as well as he thought he had? Or had John "NOT GAY" Watson just never wanted to see it? Maybe there was a precedent to what Mary had said, especially with 'the fall', that speech John had made to his empty grave seemed full of an undeniable emotion, perhaps more than that of a 'friend'.

The second huge problem was that Mary had in no way left them a way to actually communicate with each other about this possibility. They had utterly failed to be anything but extraordinarily awkward about it so far, enough that Rosamund had nearly thrown a tantrum about it. Clearly they either needed to completely avoid each other, which would probably send the child into another fit of pique (that had paid to him walking the streets for hours to avoid John) or they actually needed to have some form of discussion, sooner rather than later. He'd rather indefinitely ignore the issue in lieu of some devastating fight than confront it head-on, but the child would not allow that. She now considered them both her fathers and would not let the issue be.

Thinking of issues, what if Mary really had been wrong, and the instances he had thought about from his Mind Palace were tainted by his own sentiment, what then? What if they talked only to realise that John "If anyone still cares, we're not actually a couple" Watson took the topic badly, especially so soon after Mary. Mary had been right, he was in love with John, just unable to admit it in those words. He had felt like he lost John to Mary, though Sherlock loved and respected her in his own way… he let the details of the wedding-planning consume him so he didn't have to feel the impending loss and the fear that John would never be 'his' again. He had almost told John his feelings under the influence of so much alcohol on the stag night, thankful later for the intervention of the case, however badly that had gone.

The wedding day had felt like going into battle. He had gotten it over with barring the necessity of his over-long best man speech and the prevention of Sholto's murder, and left the reception as soon as he could. Mycroft had even foreseen it as a danger night, which it had been.

The Magnussen case and Janine had been a handy excuse to avoid John's married life and fall off the wagon. On the runway, he'd desperately wanted to say something, but all that he could come up with was "Sherlock is actually a girl's name". How pathetic! Then his mind had conjured up Moriarty saying "Ugh why don't you two just elope for God's sake!" how obvious. He knew that after convincing John to go back to Mary after the shooting for the sake of the unborn child and his shooting Magnussen to guarantee her safety, he could not jeopardise their union again. He learned to accept it as best he could.

Until Mary gave her life for his, which he had not known how to deal with. He had hoped to comfort his friend during that time of grief but he was denied, not even allowed access to Rosamund. In actuality confronting this particular elephant in the room, they could end up back in that same situation; breaking up their "little family" as Mycroft had put it. He could lose John forever, as he'd always feared (thus the lock-box, which had to keep being reinforced).

One thing Sherlock knew would send him into another unending grief spiral was losing John and the child they were raising together. For all the irritation she had caused him last night, he loved his little Honeybee, and another incident of John refusing him all contact with her would devastate him. That just reinforced his inclination to leave things as they were. Mary had told him to 'get off his arse' and not to have 'cold feet' about it, but how could he risk destroying the best thing that had ever happened to him?

A sound was creeping slowly into his meditative state in which he conducted his deepest thoughts, a high piercing wail… he ascended through the layers of his consciousness until he was once again in 'the real world'. Rosie was howling, through her screeching he heard,

"I want Papa, NOW!"

A quick look at the clock told him that he had been pondering this conundrum for roughly six hours, with no solid resolution! This amount of time had clearly exceeded Rosie's capacity for patience. She had become so accustomed to her time with 'Papa' (his heart still melted at that moniker) that she refused to be separated from him for long periods of time, unless she was with John instead. He would have to retrieve her from Mrs Hudson, who was not making the slightest dent in calming Rosie's fury.

With slight irritation about his predicament, Sherlock made his way down the stairs to Mrs. Hudson's flat where the screaming was occurring. He could hear the faint calm murmurings of Mrs. Hudson, but they were not working. He took a deep breath and knocked on the door, and immediately the crying was a bit quieter. When the door opened, a squirming Rosie was in Mrs. Hudson's arms with tears down her cheeks.

"Papa!" She yelled with grabby hands.

"Hello Honeybee," Sherlock said reaching for her, "I see you've been giving Mrs Hudson considerable trouble." He looked stern and said. "That's not what we agreed, Rosamund. You said you would be good for her."

Rosie sniffled with wet eyes and just buried her face in Sherlock's shirt.

"But wanted Papa." She whimpered.

"That's no excuse, Rosie. Now apologize to Mrs Hudson for your unacceptable behaviour. Go on, we're waiting."

Rosie didn't look like she wanted to, but she turned to Mrs. Hudson anyway, and said a tiny,

"Sorry."

"We will work on that," Sherlock said to Mrs Hudson with an apologetic smile. "Thank you for taking her. I would have relieved you sooner, but I was in deep thought and lost track of the time."

Mrs. Hudson gave him a gentle smile.

"It's what you do, dear." Then she gave Rosie a look of motherly disapproval. "But make sure she learns how to behave herself. I don't want to go through that again."

"Thank you Mrs Hudson, I think we neglected the discipline side because she's actually so much younger than she acts. That will be rectified soon." Sherlock said looking down at Rosie with a very serious expression that reminded him uncomfortably of Mycroft.

Rosie simply hid her face in Sherlock's shirt once more as if to hide in shame.

Sherlock took a suitably abashed Rosie upstairs and told her that her behavior would be discussed when John got home. Then he put on a movie for her to watch and pretended to look at the screen with her for the duration. After that, he put her down for a nap and texted,

To John: [Rosie needs more discipline, prepare yourself to talk to her about it when you get home - SH.]

John had just finished with lunch when he got the text from Sherlock. He despaired to know what his little demon of a child had done to warrant the text or need for discipline, but he decided to put it out of his mind until he got home. He quickly texted back a response.

To Sherlock: [I don't really know what to expect that she did, so the fact that you're telling me this is concerning - JW]

All day since he got to work, his mind had been in a different place, and that place was worrying what to do about the whole Sherlock situation. He didn't know what he should do with Mary's message, or if he could risk anything else in his life. He was just happy to be alive and living at 221B with his daughter and best friend. He was happy to be back at work (no matter how dull it got) and to see Sherlock and Rosie connecting. If he was honest, he was happy to see Sherlock not get back into his old habits.

John had a really bad feeling in his gut when he imagined telling Sherlock how he felt. It was as if his body was telling him to not say a word, meanwhile everyone else had seen it for years. That had to be the greatest indicator of all shouldn't it? Everyone said Sherlock actually became a better person since the two started living together over five years ago. It wasn't as if it was intentional, and it wasn't one-sided either.

After his return from Afghanistan, John was practically a shell of his former self. He didn't know if he would stick around much longer actually. Every morning when he looked at the gun in his drawer, he'd wonder if today was the day he'd use it. Thankfully, that fateful day when he ran into Mike Stamford had inexplicably brought him back to life and changed everything. He never thought that when he joined the army that he'd end up solving cases with a rather brilliant super-genius… and that he would fall in love with him.

But Mary was right, he wouldn't do it over again with Sherlock. It just seemed after the two years that his detective had disappeared, things were just turning out for the better. He loved Mary deeply, and because of her, he had Rosie in his life. He was a bit torn up at the wedding, but he was sure he was making the right decision. He couldn't just leave Mary because Sherlock showed back up, but he also knew Sherlock would have a place in his heart forever. When everything was explained to him about why she shot Sherlock, it took time, but he forgave her. It was a hard task for him, and he still didn't regret it.

When Mary died, he started to feel that numb feeling again. He felt like he was just existing in the world, and all his anger was directed at Sherlock because he didn't know where else to place it. His mind just went to Sherlock because that's where it always ended up, didn't it? The man drove him out of his mind, yet saved his life so many times. John knew he shouldn't have cut him out for those few weeks, Sherlock was mourning Mary as well, but he just couldn't face it. He just couldn't mourn his wife with the only man he ever loved. It just seemed backwards.

If it wasn't for Mrs. Hudson pointing out that Sherlock had a video of Mary, not only would Sherlock have died at the hands of a psychopath, but he wouldn't have forgiven him ever. The fact that Mary knew they needed each other was more than he could ever ask for. All of John's exes just thought they were competing with Sherlock, but Mary knew there wasn't one without the other.

This, however, wasn't as easy as all that. This wasn't just Sherlock trying to regain trust or John needing to come back to himself, this was something he had forbade himself from having. He didn't want to risk everything he had because of something he had locked away for so many years. One wrong move could end everything he and Sherlock had built together, and he didn't want that ever again.

These thoughts went through his mind all day in between patients: how he used to be, how Sherlock changed him, what Sherlock meant to him, and how to proceed.

Sherlock saw one silver lining to the day: Rosie's bad behaviour had bought him another evening to sort out how to talk to John. They could send her to bed early, eat a quick dinner and Sherlock could escape to his lab in the basement for 'an experiment'. Rosie had been subdued for the rest of the afternoon, the promise and the waiting for punishment was always worse than just getting it over with as Sherlock knew from his school days.

John arrived home not too much later. He was tired both physically and emotionally. One of his checkups even turned into an emergency delivery because a woman didn't know she was pregnant, and he knew for a fact that a pregnant woman without the proper environment to give birth was not going to be easy to deal with. Mary was an example of that, and Rosie was born on the side of a London street.

He didn't even bother announcing his arrival. He just took his coat off, hung it up, sat down on the couch, and propped his feet up on the coffee table. He had to kneel down on the floor for three hours, and the clinic let him leave early since he had to go through a lot that day. He saw that Rosie was crawling toward him in a new looking bee hoodie, complete with tiny wings on the back, and antennae on the hood with a cute face. Rosie then climbed onto the couch and onto John's lap. She then hugged him tightly, and he hugged back.

"Hello Rosebud."

Sherlock came out of the kitchen where he had made them both tea after hearing the front door open.

"No matter how cute she looks right now, John, she still needs to be disciplined, we can't let it distract us."

"What exactly did she do?"

"I left her with Mrs. Hudson for the morning and she absolutely terrorised her in her efforts to get back to me. Mrs. Hudson said she never wanted to go through that again. I not only fear she has some codependency and separation anxiety issues, but also that her outbursts at dinner were unacceptable. We've been treating her according to her actual age, John, but mentally she is clearly exceeding that. We will have to treat her as she acts."

"No!" Rosie yelled.

"Rosie!" John snapped.

He was a bit torn about treating his not even five month old daughter like a one or two year old, but Sherlock was right, they needed to treat her based on the way she acted. He stood up from the couch and sat Rosie down on it.

"Rosie, you need to not yell or scream because you don't like something. That's not… not nice for people around you. How do you think Mrs. Hudson felt when you were screaming for Papa? She probably felt really really bad."

Rosie looked like she was about to cry, but John knew this tactic from his sister when they were little. She would cry just to get out of things and actually cried later in life to get a drink.

"Crying won't get you out of this, young lady."

Rosie pouted and crossed her arms in what was a very Sherlock fashion.

"I saw her, Rosie, you made her feel like you didn't like her. That hurts people, believe me, I'd know. I made lots of people not like me because I was too smart for my own good, and I don't want you to be like that, Rosamund." Sherlock explained.

Sherlock thought back to his school days. He'd been such a show-off, always deducing things about the other boys and their parents, his teachers' affairs or financial troubles. He and the headmaster were quite well acquainted. In fact, if Mycroft hadn't been the bane of the same man's existence seven years before, Sherlock may have been expelled. University had been a nightmare as well, until he learned to spend long hours in the lab, mostly to avoid other people.

Then he'd found that drugs were preferable to any attempt at socialising and he'd retreated into his own world for a long time. He'd managed to alienate all of Scotland Yard, besides Lestrade, who, somehow never allowed Sherlock's barbed tongue to affect him as long as Sherlock kept giving him answers. He'd chased away so many potential clients with his abrupt manner and lack of social convention and traumatised victims' family and friends in his need to eliminate suspects in search of the actual perpetrator…

Then John had limped into his life, praising his observations and easing the social aspects of dealing with clients and the people he needed to associate with during cases. He had actually learned how to treat people better and found that his cases could actually produce a decent income for them when he did. He began to think of associates and colleagues like Lestrade and Molly as friends, he even let Mrs Hudson be a pseudo-mother to him.

"It's not your fault, it's ours. We've been treating you like a little baby but you're too smart for that, now you need to learn to act your mental age." Sherlock sighed. "Daddy and I are going to tell you when you're not being a good little girl, okay? Daddy actually had to do that to me a lot when we first met, because I was mean to people and I didn't understand certain things about other people's feelings."

"I really did. Papa was pretty awful when I met him because nobody ever taught him to be nice as a child."

Rosie looked a bit intrigued and confused.

"My mummy and Daddy saw that I was smart but they thought that meant I'd know when I was being mean or rude, but I actually didn't. When I went to school, I got in lots of trouble for things I said to teachers and other kids. Nobody actually managed to teach me to be decent to other people until I met your Daddy."

"Daddy helped Papa be nice? Daddy help me too?"

John felt his heart swell and break at the same time. It broke because Sherlock attributed John to making him better, and swell because Rosie believed he could help her be better. He smiled.

"Of course I'll help you, Rosie." Then he put on a stern face. "But for today, you'll be in your nursery for 20 minutes."

Immediately the expression on Rosie's face changed and she looked angry.

"No!"

Rosie started chanting 'no' over and over as John picked her up and she was squirming in his arms, screaming. He made sure to to turn on a little camera in the nursery so he could see if Rosie did any damage to her toys. The webcam was a bluetooth camera that connected to his phone, a sort of baby-monitor app. Once he got her in her cot and shut the door with the gate in front as well (lord only knew what this child could do) he went downstairs and flopped onto the couch with a groan.

"I thought I'd be waiting at least a year before I had to deal with tantrums." He groaned.

"She is, in that respect, unfortunately advanced for her age."

It had not been an easy few days for either of them. Sherlock had learned to make several simple dishes in the past few months so he made some pasta with a simple bottled sauce for dinner, leaving John alone in the lounge to recuperate. He had observed some watered out blood-stains on John's shirt when he'd arrived home, it was quite probable he had delivered a baby this afternoon. He must be exhausted. Good. This would most certainly forestall their impending 'talk'.

Sherlock brought John a plate of pasta for him to eat on the couch. John eyed the plate in curiosity and shock.

"You cook now?"

John had no idea that Sherlock knew how to cook. Since he'd been back, they'd been either having takeout, or Sherlock had been making special orders at Speedy's or Angelo's. John had never even seen Sherlock use the microwave for anything other than experiments.

"I've always known the theory, John. It is a science after all. I didn't make the sauce or anything like that, it's from that jar we bought. It was quicker than ordering take away."

"In all the years I've known you, I've never seen you cook."

"Perhaps I've finally become domesticated. There is a rapidly growing child in the flat, she'll have to eat solids eventually. I just read a few simple recipes."

John chuckled.

"Of course you would get it perfectly by reading recipes."

"It's a science, John, no different from chemistry, really."

Sherlock retreated back to the kitchen to prepare his own plate. He sat down to eat there so that further conversation with this surprised and incredulous John could be avoided. The man was acting like pasta was miraculous, Sherlock didn't know what to make of it.

John waited for Sherlock to come back to the lounge with his food, but he didn't… ok, they usually ate dinner together, so the fact that Sherlock was eating alone wasn't a good sign. John decided to not care about his aching feet as he got up with his plate, and sat across from Sherlock at the table. He ignored the slight scowl he earned from that, and started to eat. The food tasted perfect and he made an hum because of it.

"This tastes amazing!"

"It's the sauce." Sherlock said waving a hand airily.

"No, you cooked the pasta just right and is that garlic butter I taste in it?"

Sherlock sighed, clearly John was intent on complimenting his cooking. He was finding it cumbersome since he hadn't wanted to talk at all. He began eating faster, in between bites he said,

"Yes, it is. It's sold in a package next to the regular butter, the recipe suggested it."
John rolled his eyes.

"You hate that I'm complimenting your cooking? Really?"

"I haven't performed any miracles, it's discomfiting to be complimented for such a menial job."

"Well Rosie will probably be doing that soon, so you had better get used to it."

"Speaking of Rosie, what is she doing?" Sherlock inquired. "Let me see your phone. We need to figure out what kind of discipline works on her."

John handed Sherlock his phone with the app up, and it turned out Rosie was asleep in her crib. It seemed the tantrum had worn her out enough to make her sleepy, but some toys were on the floor that had originally been in her crib with her, so she probably threw them in her anger.

"She's asleep, I don't think that constitutes a proper disciplining… Are children supposed to fall asleep in a time-out?"

"Some kids do that to make the time pass, but she could have been throwing a fit and wore herself out."

"Yes, but does that indicate success from a disciplinary standpoint John? Shouldn't she have learned some sort of lesson or something?"

"She probably did, but this was her first proper tantrum that got her a time-out, and her last nap was when?"

"She woke up from it two hours ago. I just want to know if we did this correctly, John. I have no experience with discipline."

John realized Sherlock was actually panicking a bit. That was unusual for him considering he was mister "I know everything". Well, it seemed even the world's only consulting detective wasn't sure about children.

"She probably will learn the lesson we want her to, but Sherlock, kids deal with punishments in different ways. There's no set way of doing things as a parent, you just kind of wing it. I mean, you could read every piece of information about child development or parenting techniques, but at the end of the day, it's different for everyone."

Sherlock looked back on his own childhood. After Mycroft had been at school a while, he used to tell Sherlock that he was doing certain things wrong. Mummy and Daddy had mostly left him to his own devices. Perhaps their lack of discipline (or rather, considering an entire sister was missing from his memories) had something to do with the social ineptitude he and Mycroft had often shown. Perhaps proper discipline could have prevented Eurus from committing the terrible acts Mycroft had described. How was he supposed to impose discipline on a child when he'd only experienced it himself so late in life? John's system of telling him he was not being good, childlike in its simplicity, had been the first of such efforts to actually work. Would Rosie respond to the same method? Who could know, the child was in a league of her own.

"The first time I really encountered any discipline was when you'd tell me something I did was not good. I wasn't lying to Rosie, John, it was the truth. How can I impose any discipline on her?"

John shrugged.

"Like I said, it's different for everyone. You figure out a style of parenting, and you do it."

"John, you've seen my family… Is it even possible for me to end up helping to raise a socialised child?"

John smiled fondly at his friend.

"You showed you were able to have emotions and control them, and Rosie is incredibly emotional, so I have no doubt that she'll be sociable. Plus she's Mary's too, she'll be able to relate to even the most anti-social people out there."

"John… your family, it wasn't perfect either."

John immediately looked up at Sherlock in shock.

"What?"

"You aren't in touch with your parents. I think since Harry came out you had minimal contact, probably because they reacted badly to it. You went away to medical school as soon as you could. Once you left for the army, you cut them out entirely most likely due to being filled of those with conservative ideals and homophobia, and that's why you didn't reach out to them when you were searching for a flatmate. I thought maybe they were deceased, but then on your birthday your first year here, you received a call from your mother, who wanted to reconnect except when you questioned whether they were doing the same with Harry, and they said no, you said you didn't want to speak with them anymore. On top of that your prefered clothing at the time were old jumpers and boots, indicating that your father was a small village thatcher who wanted you to follow in his footsteps. You used to look up to him, then Harry came out, and you despised him. He tried to pull you back from going into medicine in the army which added fuel to the flame, and when they didn't help Harry at all with her drinking, you knew enough was enough and completely isolated yourself from them."

John just stared at him blankly. There was no 'brilliant' or 'fantastic', just silence, and… anger? Sherlock looked at John's face, perhaps this was not the time to have brought up his family issues and homophobia in particular, not after the videos... any possible relationship between them would be called 'gay'. He feared he had made an enormous mistake. He never could control the deductions when they started, he always spoke his mind without holding back - he was thinking and speaking too fast to do any editing along the way. He cursed his appalling sense of timing. He could only blame it on the worry he felt about Rosie and his general awkwardness around John since the video… He wondered what exactly Mary had said to John, maybe if he knew, they could talk about it without him making a total mess of it. An idea began to brew in his mind, but he brushed it aside. The immediate problem was the look on John's face, and he had no idea how to rectify that.

"I apologise, I shouldn't have said that… any of that. Sorry John. I'll leave you alone for a bit."

John simply looked at his food as Sherlock got up and cleaned off his plate. Sherlock knew all of that about his family, and didn't bother to tell him? How long had he been keeping it to himself? It was true, his parents were homophobic, small minded people. That was why he didn't invite them to the wedding or tried to have them stay around when Rosie was almost due.

When John went off to medical school, it was like crabs pulling the one crab back into the barrel, only he didn't fall back in. He hated most of the people in his old village. They were homophobic, xenophobic, racist, any and every label of intolerant. They thought they could bring John back when he was sent home from Afghanistan, but he told his parents to their face, 'If you care about me at all, you won't try to make me go back to that horrible place I used to call home' and slammed the door on them. He swore he heard his mother sob in the hallway, but he was too angry to care.

The birthday call his mother made a year later had mostly ended in the same fashion, except that time it was about them not reaching out to help Harry. They were too prideful to have a black sheep in the family, so they thought they could just push her out completely to make themselves look better. It was one of the worst times in his life. His father didn't even care that Harry was brighter than John would ever be, the fact that she was gay and an alcoholic made him disown her when she was only 16 years old.

That wasn't what made him angry in this moment, it was that Sherlock knew all this time, and didn't say anything. That was what made him angry. He sighed, and got up to wash his plate in the sink. Bed was a fantastic idea at the moment, and he definitely needed it. Now he didn't know if he would ever talk to Sherlock about the video he got. Too many things happened today and it made him think that maybe it was some force telling him not to do it.

John stood up abruptly, leaving his plate on the table and announced in the most level voice he could muster (though it was low and quite rough),

"I'm going to bed. Upstairs. You deal with Rosie."

Sherlock turned away from the sink and nodded meekly at him, with wide eyes.

Sherlock merely stared silently at John's retreating back. When he heard the shower turn on, he scraped John's plate clean and rinsed it, put it in the dishwasher with his own, and sat back down at the kitchen table. He waited to hear John's footsteps go upstairs before rousing Rosie for a nappy change, then her evening feeding, and a quick bath. He rocked her back to sleep, glad she was still quite subdued and hadn't even asked where 'Daddy' was. He completed his own ablutions and tried to fall asleep, as far to the left of the bed as possible, horribly aware of John's scent and how much he had upset its owner. Last night they had (unknowingly) slept in this bed together, now they couldn't be further apart. The idea that had come to him earlier began to solidify, if he saw Mary's video to John, he would have the advantage…

The video was definitely being kept in John's office at the surgery, he would not have brought it home. Sherlock knew John hadn't looked for his video because he was the only one with keys to the basement laboratory. John would feel the same security at the office.

Sherlock, unlike John, knew how to circumvent that security, he merely needed his lockpicks, the security alarm code, which John had saved to his phone and John's keycard. In his rage, John had left his phone in the kitchen, so getting the code was child's play. John always left the keycard in his wallet, which Sherlock could see was still in his coat (it hung slightly lower on the right side), he swiped it with practiced ease. Lastly, he got dressed in old jeans and a hoodie and set off with the code (memorised), keycard and the lockpicks he always kept in his coat. He crept silently down the stairs to the front door and took a cab to a spot a few streets away from the surgery

As he walked the rest of the way, he reflected that he was about to do something seriously not good, but this did not deter him. He had made his choice, the only other concern now was not getting caught. He approached the side entrance to the building, where he knew there were no security cameras. He held the card up to the reader, which beeped and flashed green, then opened the door, quickly keying the code into the alarm panel near the door. Then he took a look around, there was no camera monitoring the hallway, only the reception, staff kitchen, waiting room, and the stockroom. He was safe from scrutiny. He found John's office in the dark (Sherlock had purposefully developed superior night vision), unlocked the door with the lockpicks, entered and closed the door behind him. On the desk there was a picture of Rosie and Mary, a notepad, some pens in a holder and a desktop computer, which he switched on. The desk drawer was locked, again, no match for Sherlock's skill as a lockpicker. He opened it to find John's prescription pad and the usual office detritus and at the very bottom, a white envelope with a DVD that said "Miss You". The computer had booted up and responded to a simple login with the admin account and a rather generic password (they should sack the IT person who had set up this useless level of security). He placed the DVD in the tray, plugged in his headphones and it began to play. Although he had been prepared for it, seeing Mary and the love in her eyes as she looked at John, was still a shock. He gasped a bit and took a deep breath. Mary began to speak:

"I know, you thought I only had one last message before," She said. "But if I've passed on, I have one more task for you and for Sherlock: Get off your arses and tell each other how you feel.

"I remember what you told me, John. I remember that night you broke down in my arms after our first date. You said you felt like you were betraying Sherlock because you wanted to pursue a relationship with me, and because I was there for you after the fall. But I told you,

'You aren't betraying him. He'd want you to be happy with whoever you decided even if it's not me.'

"And knowing you now, you'll feel like you'll betray me by being with Sherlock. Funny bit of irony isn't it?" She smiled fondly. "John, listen: you are not betraying me by being in love with Sherlock, you are denying yourself the perfect man for you, and before you say your classic 'I'm not gay', your love for Sherlock doesn't mean you are gay. I wouldn't have married you if you were. A man who likes women can be in love with another man, it's just rare. I love you John Watson, so does he, and we both want you to be happy. So please, tell him the truth, and accept it yourself.

"You're in love with Sherlock Holmes, and always have been.

"But I know for a fact you don't regret Rosie. If there was one reason you wouldn't do it all over again with me it's Rosie. Don't focus your sole energy on Sherlock since he does feel the same.

"My video for Sherlock is telling him you are in love with him and that he shouldn't get cold feet about telling you how he feels. I'm telling you the same thing Captain John Watson. Use that bravery and compassion that helped you save your fellow soldiers in the war to tell him those three simple words: "I love you."

"I know you will have watched the original video I made for Sherlock to have him save you by now, knowing your need to snoop around, so when I said 'The man we both love' it was me affirming that I knew about his feelings towards you.

"This doesn't mean anything changes in your little business, it just adds something behind the scenes. The danger you love will always be there, the thrill of the chase, all of it. The only thing that will be different is that you two know you love each other."

She took a deep breath as if not to cry.

"I love you and Rosie so much, John. Don't forget that. Goodbye."

Sherlock played it through a second time to commit it to memory. He was still stunned by what she had said. He felt like a bit of an intruder, seeing this wife's last message to her husband, 'the man we both love'... He replaced the disc to its envelope and its exact place in the drawer, switched off the computer and locked the drawer. He exited the office carefully, re-locked the door, re-armed the alarm and left the way he had come. He felt quite guilty for what he had just done, but he was glad that he had the extra information.

As he walked a few blocks away before hailing another cab, he replayed the salient points in his mind. John had cried to Mary about not telling Sherlock how he felt and John felt he was betraying Sherlock by being with her. Mary knew about their feelings for each other and thought Sherlock was the perfect man for John but she had phrased it carefully enough to de-emphasise the idea of John being gay (this was essential information and he was glad to have obtained it). She had known John would watch the original video (which meant he would gladly have watched Sherlock's video, a fact that allayed his guilt over tonight's little adventure considerably).

Mary was confident that nothing would change except that they would both know about their feelings for eachother. Sherlock was beginning to share some of this confidence. When (not an if anymore) they spoke about this, Sherlock would be prepared. He would offer his video to John to watch, if he wanted to. It would only be fair, however he would in no way let John know that he had watched John's video. He arrived home, went softly up the stairs and changed back into his pajamas before crawling back into bed, this time he cuddled John's pillow to him and inhaled deeply. He almost felt confident in the success of their talk now, so much so that he composed a small speech to John about his feelings. Tomorrow would be the beginning of a new era.

John was in his room at Baker Street. It was dark, but he could make out someone in the room: Mary. He knew he was dreaming, and he knew this meant his subconscious was going to tell him something. He sat up in his bed.

"Mary?"

She smiled at him.

"Hello John."

She sat down on the bed next to him.

"It's been an exciting couple of days hasn't it?"

John chuckled.

"Yeah, you could say that."

"Rosie's gotten so smart already."

"And it's driving both of us mad. She's already having tantrums, and she's not even five months old!"

Mary just chuckled and laid her head on John's shoulder.

"That's not the only thing driving you mad." She said in a serious tone.

The soldier sighed and nodded.

"Yeah."

"Do you think you might be overreacting a bit?"

"What?"

"John, you know how much Sherlock has done for you and Rosie these past few months, so why would he throw your friendship away over something you feel for him? Plus that deduction is hardly something to have a tiff over."

John thought for a moment. She was probably right, as usual. Sherlock was raising a child almost completely on his own before John woke up. And that deduction Sherlock revealed wasn't exactly something that should have irritated him like that.

"Maybe. I just don't want to risk everything falling apart on me."

She just looked at him with the 'you're an idiot' look.

"It should be completely obvious to you that he cares." She said matter-of-factly. "He faked his death, is pushing you to get proper treatments, is practically another father to Rosie, everyone else has seen it, so why won't you accept it?"

John woke up. That question echoed in his mind of why he couldn't accept it. Maybe it was because he was afraid of what it would mean if they both felt like that. For one thing, John had never been in a relationship with a man before. His homophobic parents never let him see anything pro LGBT when he lived with them, and constantly told him that he would be kicked out if he 'went down the same path as Harry'. On top of that he knew for a fact he wasn't gay. It made him slightly uneasy that even though he'd only ever had sex with women or dated women, he'd almost never thought of men that way before. There was one time when he was in primary school, but his parents scared him into not letting himself feel that way about other boys again.

He rubbed his hands over his face with a sigh. 'Mary' was right, Sherlock wouldn't throw away their friendship over this. It was too important to him, and Rosie was incredibly important to him as well. He could probably say something, and everything would probably be fine. It would probably just be awkward for a while and then they would go back to the way things were. That was the most he would hope for.

He'd tell Sherlock tomorrow.

John had the day off from work so he spent the morning with Rosie, as he seldom had the opportunity. Sherlock was still fast asleep in his bedroom, holding onto a pillow like a child with a teddy bear. He hadn't even stirred as John removed Rosie from her cot. John had arranged for Molly to babysit after Rosie's afternoon nap. He thought this would afford Sherlock and him the opportunity to talk, as well as testing whether Rosie had learned any lessons from yesterday's disciplinary experiment.

Rosie was very happy to be able to spend her most active morning hours with her Daddy.

"Daddy, up!"

Rosie had a new trend of wanting to be picked up and spun around. It was adorable, but John's arms were starting to get tired.

"Again?" John said overdramatically.

"Yes! Up!"

John gave an exaggerated sigh but picked her up and spun her around semi-fast, which caused his little girl to squeal in delight. It was nice to spend time with his daughter without work in between the encounters. His deficits were even almost completely gone which made him more confident to do things like this. He had also let Sherlock sleep in this morning so that he could have some rest. Sherlock had been taking most of the workload with Rosie as of late, and John felt bad about last night. He deserved a break from the crawling, talking baby.

Sherlock woke up to the noise of Rosie squealing in delight at something, he hadn't even known she was awake. John must have let him sleep in as it was already eleven o'clock. There were two possible reasons for that: either John was still angry about the deduction last night and hadn't wanted to deal with Sherlock's presence, or John had forgiven him and allowed him to sleep in as a gesture of thanks for all the early mornings he spent with Rosie. He obviously preferred the second option, but as he went to the bathroom for his morning ablutions, he prepared himself for the first. A frosty John was so tedious to deal with… He sighed and entered the kitchen, ready to face his fate. He looked into the lounge from the kitchen doorway and greeted John with a small wave. John smiled at him and waved back. Option two then, good… John had slept off his rage. Sherlock breathed a quiet sigh of relief and retreated to the kitchen for some tea and toast.

Sherlock was now up… that was good. He also looked well rested which was important as lately, he had been looking a bit more tired than usual. On top of that he was making something to eat, which was another good sign as that meant he wasn't overly torn about whatever had been making him anxious.

John made Rosie and himself some lunch while Sherlock settled into his chair with his laptop, absorbed in whatever he was doing. Soon Rosie had her afternoon nap, John changed her nappy, put her into going-out clothes, and Molly arrived to pick her up. Mrs. Hudson let her in and she arrived with an excited smile.

"Hi little Rosie. Gosh, it's been awhile since you last played with me, huh? You've grown so much!"

"She's also talking up a storm." John said.

"Really, Rosie?"

"Don't be scared of giving her a time-out if she bullies you. She gets quite aggressive in terms of yelling."

"But… but she's so young. She shouldn't be doing that yet."

"Hi Molly, she's extremely advanced for her age, you'll see for yourself this afternoon." Sherlock said as he looked up from his laptop. "We've decided to discipline her according to her mental age, not her physical one".

Molly looked genuinely shocked by this revelation, but Rosie was also making grabby hands at her, indicating she wanted to be with her.

"Molly. Molly up!" Rosie said.

It seemed that broke Molly out of her daze because she put on a smile, and picked Rosie up.

"My goodness, you are talking." She poked her nose, which made Rosie giggle. "We'll have lots of interesting conversations, won't we?"

Rosie nodded in response.

Once the basic updates on Rosie's behavior were discussed, and the diaper bag was handed over, Molly and Rosie left for the afternoon.

Sherlock was quite glad to have a bit of a break from child-rearing, especially after the last few days. He had been researching articles on "leaving the friend-zone" as the ridiculous sites had called it, nothing of use had actually come up. Their situation was rather unique, it seemed. There had only been one 'Agony Aunt-style' piece about having fallen in love with one's flatmate, but that had been within the first few months, not after years of living together and all the other things he and John had gone through in the interim. He was, nonetheless, feeling quite prepared to have the necessary discussion, but it seemed like something John would have to bring up. Perhaps that was why John had arranged for Molly to take Rosie? It was plausible… usually John spent his entire day off with his daughter, so sending her off with Molly was out of character.

They needed to talk before Molly brought Rosie back. John had some of what he would say planned out, but he was still incredibly nervous. He wasn't good at expressing his emotions, he'd even said it when he thought he was going to die in that train car, so this was a whole new level. John and Sherlock had just eaten lunch, and once he was finished washing the dishes, he made his way out to the lounge. Sherlock was in his chair, his laptop discarded, he sat plucking strings at his violin.

'This is it.' He thought. 'It's now or never.'

"So…" he paused to pick his words carefully. "I got a final video message… from Mary."

Sherlock didn't look up from his violin but hummed in response. John was finally going to initiate the talk, the waiting truly had been the hardest part.

"And in it she told me to tell you something." John continued. "So this is me telling you, and I pray she isn't wrong because I'm saying this after years of keeping it to myself." He took a deep breath. "Sherlock, for the last few years I've…"

He paused to get his bearings. He was a soldier for Christ's sake, it shouldn't have been that hard. But it was reassuring that Sherlock looked up from his violin and motioned for John to take his usual seat across from him. Good, it meant he wanted to hear him out.

The detective watched as John sat down. He could see John was nervous but trying to get through it. He was cold sweating and gripping his knees as an obvious coping mechanism. At least John looked slightly more well-rested than he had since this had begun.

John took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

"Sherlock, what Mary said… it's true." He said (he didn't want to say the words just yet, but he had to soon). "I don't know what she said in your video, but if it is what I think it is, it's true... I do - um - care about you, very much. I always have, and probably always will. I know I keep saying that I'm not gay to, well, everyone, but I rarely ever felt anything for blokes until you. I didn't want to believe I could feel that way about men because, as you figured out, my parents weren't the most accepting of people."

Sherlock just hoped this speech would come to an end soon so they could both acknowledge that they were romantically attached to each other and set ground rules for a relationship as it was what Sherlock had wanted for years. If John was having this much trouble, it must have meant a lot to him too.

"I told you before I'm not good at expressing emotions, and this is me trying hard to get it out. I... I love you, and I'm sure it won't change. I kept telling myself for years that I shouldn't be in love with my best mate, but it still happened. So many times after we got home from a big case I just wanted to… y'know, kiss you, but I couldn't do it because I didn't know if you even wanted a relationship with anyone. So if I'm wrong about you, we can forget I said anything and just move on because you're still my best friend, and I don't want to lose you."

John waited for Sherlock's response. It was killing him waiting to hear what Sherlock would say next.

Sherlock knew John was incredibly scared about what he would say next; it didn't exactly take the world's only consulting detective to figure that out. He decided to try and ease John's worries by telling him the truth.

"John, it seems we've both been worried over nothing." Sherlock said simply. "To be perfectly honest, I began having feelings for you that I'd never have expected to have for anyone quite shortly after we met. I've been locking them up in my Mind Palace for years. You are the exception to every one of my personal rules as well. I thought it impossible for you to feel the same, as you'd pointed out rather emphatically and with astounding regularity that you were 'not gay' and we were 'not a couple'. I was too cowardly to admit my feelings before the fall, then Moriarty played his hand and my plans had to be altered. I wished I could have given you an indication I was alive, but your grief was essential to the plan. And when I came back you had… moved on.

"When you married Mary, I thought I had lost my chance forever. I was content for you to be happy with someone else, though it felt at the time like I had lost you for good. I forgave Mary for the shooting because I understood her impulse to do anything she had to in order to hold onto you. A part of me died with her, as it did for you. Rosie has been her most amazing gift, her legacy to us and I hope that we can continue to raise that astonishing child as we have been."

John looked genuinely shocked and stared at him with wide eyes. The detective put his violin in its case next to him and leaned forward in his seat with his hands clasped under his chin.

"It doesn't matter if you feel any sexual attraction toward me because you've only had sex with women, but it does matter that you care for me as I do you, and it appears that you love me as I love you."

They both sat in silence, almost as if they were waiting for the other to speak, but didn't know what to say. John honestly didn't know what to say to any of that. He was shocked, but happy at the same time. Overjoyed in fact. Where would they go from there?

"So… what now?" He asked. "Do we… kiss or something?"

"Since neither of us have been in this kind of relationship before, maybe we should wait on that… take things slowly. Perhaps set out some ground rules."

They were still seated opposite each other on their respective chairs though John was leaning forward in his seat.

"Like what?"

"Some sort of timeline. I'm a virgin and you've never been with another man, we should be careful, take this in small, manageable steps."

John sat back in his chair. His mind immediately went back to Mycroft's comment at Buckingham palace years ago. Sherlock had said, 'Sex doesn't alarm me' and Mycroft had mocked, 'How would you know?'.

"You're seriously a virgin? Mycroft wasn't kidding?"

John was honestly shocked that Sherlock admitted this so… freely… Sometimes he had no grasp of social norms.

"No, he wasn't. There really was no-one else who deserved my interest until you came along… I thought I was… asexual."

"Remind me what that is?" Sherlock gave him a look. "I didn't exactly have a plethora of information around me as a kid and I wasn't really interested in that stuff in uni."

"I've never had any urges of a sexual nature, not toward anyone. While yes, I have had sexual urges that I can easily subdue (as asexual does not always mean having no sexual urges), the only person in my life that I have been able to point fantasies towards is you. I believe that would make me demisexual, but I will need to do further research. Because no one ever sparked my interest, I never sought after someone to be intimate with which lead me to believe I was asexual."

The only thing John really got out of that was Sherlock wanked to fantasies of him. He understood the concept of asexual, but the fact that Sherlock had masturbated to thoughts of him made him feel… weird, maybe? He'd have to think about that later.

"You… thought of me when you wanked?"

"Not often. I was trying desperately not to feel that way about you - for the sake of our friendship. I mostly did it for scientific and the obvious medical reasons."

"In other words, you wanked for health and experiments before me."

"Yes John," Sherlock sighed, uncomfortable with the unscientific terms John was using. "Even after I developed feelings for you, I tried not to indulge such fantasies, I was uncomfortable with the romanticism of it. My releases were mainly to relieve physical discomfort."

"Why am I not surprised?"

"Since I just bared my sexual habits, might I ask if you ever," he could not bring himself to say 'wanked', he just couldn't. "Fantasised about me while performing that action?"

John blushed so hard he swore he must have looked bright red. He did fantasize every now and again about Sherlock, but when it started, he tried to not think about Sherlock so much. But after he accepted it, he just went with whatever his mind gave him.

"Can we not have this discussion about my masturbation habits?"

"I don't see why not, honesty is supposed to be a good basis for relationships. Though I think I can deduce enough from the frankly alarming shade of red your skin has turned."

"Yeah, let's just leave it at that." John said. "We haven't even kissed yet, so talking about how we masturbate is a bit further down the line."

Well, Sherlock thought, once again his social ineptitude had made an awkward situation worse… Apparently blatant honesty wasn't always welcome. He felt a bit uneasy about his admissions now. Why did John keep bringing up the kissing thing? Sherlock had never been kissed in a romantic capacity, though he thought the concept had some merit, he thought there were other… steps… that had to be taken first. Holding hands, hugging, an actual 'date', these were all things he'd read about. Kissing seemed to be skipping several steps.

"Why do you keep going on about kissing? Aren't there other stages in a relationship that have to be fulfilled first?

"I'm not saying kissing is a step we have to take, I'm saying we've barely even hugged. We don't ever get into each other's space unless it's necessary, so talking about sexual things is a bit of a jump."

"I'm not the one who brought it up, John." Sherlock looked slightly indignant.

"No, you did. You talked about how you fantasized about me."

"I was merely explaining my perception of my sexuality and how you changed it. I'm not the one who asked if I thought about you when I… you know."

"Let's just forget about it, okay?"

"Okay. So those ground rules I was talking about earlier… I think we should take all those other steps first… before the kissing or… anything else, and no intimate displays when on cases, or in front of Rosie for the time being."

"That's what I was thinking. We shouldn't just jump into this relationship by acting like a full on couple. You said yourself that you're a virgin, so we need to take it slow… but I think I've only ever seen you kiss someone once, and that was for a case."

"Kissing Janine was… very uncomfortable, but yes, it had to be done for the case."

Sherlock's skin crawled just thinking of it, a month of pretending he was 'smitten' but he wanted to wait for marriage before they had sexual relations… saying he was 'old fashioned'. Janine had seen through it in retrospect, and she'd had her revenge in the tabloids.

"Have you ever kissed someone you liked?"

"No, I haven't."

John had an idea, and he was sure Sherlock would try it to 'experiment'.

"Can I try something?"

Sherlock replayed the last few sentences John had spoken and decided that maybe some experimentation was in order.

"Yes." he breathed.

With great hesitation, John sat up from his chair and approached Sherlock. He had never kissed a man before, and he was sure Sherlock only kissed for cases, so this would be interesting. He placed a hand on Sherlock's knee, and slowly leaned down. He felt his heart pounding in his chest and he almost thrummed with nerves. Right when he was an inch from Sherlock's lips, he waited for a sign that it was ok to do this. Sherlock gave a slight nod, and John gently pressed his lips to his… lover's. He felt as if sparks were going through his entire body from his lips, and his wildest dreams were finally coming to fruition. It was like everything in the world was Sherlock, and nothing else.

As John approached, Sherlock's breathing grew shallow, his mind was utterly, blissfully blank. John touched his knee and he felt like his heart skipped a beat. He was looking directly into John's eyes when John stopped an inch away, he seemed to be asking permission… Sherlock nodded and then John's lips were on his. He was so gentle, but Sherlock's heartbeat felt totally out of control. This was what he had been waiting for, for so long. His body felt electrified, his lips tingled and for a few moments he couldn't breathe. When John's lips left his, he felt utterly bereft, a small gasp escaping before he regained his breath… that was nothing short of incredible.

The two men simply stared at each other for what felt like ages. Both of their breaths were short, and their pupils were dilated. It was clear that it was… something fantastic and beautiful for both of them.

John cleared his throat and straightened up.

"So… was that okay?"

"Hnggm." Sherlock realised he had made some kind of completely unintelligible noise. He cleared his throat and tried to slow his breathing, this failure of his transport was beginning to be quite annoying. "Um… quite." he managed to say in a low voice.

John chuckled a bit. He had actually rendered the great Sherlock Holmes speechless from a simple action such as a kiss. It was a bit weird, but he felt proud of himself.

"Fantastic?" John supplied.
"Yes." Sherlock practically purred, he was staring at John, unblinking, completely unsure what to do next.

He was an addict, after all, too much of a good thing was kind of his style. He felt a fierce desire to initiate his own kiss, but he was still a little too shocked to actually do it. The thought of ground rules had completely fled his mind for the moment.

John awkwardly sat down in his chair and wrung his hands a bit. He didn't know what they were going to do next, and he figured they should keep discussing 'ground rules' as Sherlock had called them.

"So… what other rules did you want to do?"

Sherlock was still waiting for his brain to adjust to this development. He'd never used more 'filler' words in his life… if he said 'um' one more time, he swore he'd have to slap himself back into coherence. He took a deep breath before speaking.

"As we've said, taking things slowly. We can begin by showing each other more physical affection. We also don't want to alarm Rosie, so nothing that would overwhelm her. We'll keep to separate beds, obviously, to avoid any more… accidents or general confusion. Where would you prefer to sleep?"

"Upstairs." John answered. "Do you want to alternate where Rosie sleeps, or should I just keep her with me for now?"

"Alternating might be best. I suppose we could ask her, she does have her own, rather strong opinions."

"That might cut out some screaming and crying." John chuckled.

Sherlock looked embarrassed and a blush crept up his cheeks.

"Perhaps we could… share a goodnight kiss before bed?" He wasn't looking directly at John anymore and his eyes were slightly unfocused.

John blushed a bit as well, but nodded.

"If... you're comfortable with that, we could do that."

"I think I would be amenable to that." He looked up at John, a small smile quirking up on one side of his mouth.

"Ok…"

After an hour filled with Sherlock solving quick cases John read out to him, Molly called to bring Rosie home, and so the little one was back at the flat not too long after that. She looked a bit tuckered out, but not much. John chased Rosie across the floor pretending to be a monster, which made Rosie giggle and crawl fast. She crawled towards Sherlock for safety and he picked her up for a cuddle every time the game repeated itself.

Soon it was time for dinner, Sherlock ordered from Angelo's and prepared Rosie's bottle when the food was delivered. She was sitting in her highchair quite full when Sherlock looked straight at her.

"Rosie, Daddy's going to sleep upstairs from now on, and Papa's going to sleep downstairs. Where do you want to sleep tonight?"

Rosie looked quite serious for a moment, even put her hands together under her chin like she had seen Sherlock do countless times before. After about two minutes, she looked up.

"Daddy tonight, Papa tomorrow." She answered resolutely.

John laughed a bit, and patted Rosie on her head. This child was sometimes incredibly funny whether she meant to be or not. She probably got it from Mary as she had a good sense of humor.

"Ok, Rosebud, we'll sleep upstairs tonight."

Sherlock grinned at her too. He'd been right, she was perfectly capable of making her own choices.

"Alright Honeybee, I think Daddy will give you your bath and get you ready for bed when you sleep by him, and I'll do the same when you sleep by me. Okay?"

"'Kay."

After they had all eaten dinner, John gave Rosie her bath, and put her in her night time clothes and took her upstairs. However, she was very squirmy that night. She seemed to not want to go to bed at all. Even when John got her in her cot, she was just standing up with her bee clutched in her hand and talking at John. It was clear he'd need a little help.

"Sherlock," John called down the stairs. "Would you mind playing her some violin….?"

Sherlock had been hearing the commotion over the baby monitor, so he picked up his violin and bow and (with some reserve, because this was now John's space) climbed the stairs.

Sherlock played a bit of Fur Elise to start with, Rosie didn't seem to respond. He tried Chopin's Nocturne to similar effect.

A tune that had been forming in his mind when he was waiting for John to awaken from his coma suddenly came to mind. He had been mentally composing a lullaby for Rosie, but he had never had need of it, as he found the children's movie songs had worked quite well. This seemed the time to try it. The piece flowed from him without effort as all his own compositions tended to do, his eyes were closed and he unknowingly swayed gently to the music.

John had never heard this piece before. He didn't think it was from anybody like Mozart or Bache, and Sherlock seemed to be really into it. That meant it was an original piece that Sherlock wrote, and it seemed to be working on Rosie. It was very sweet how his detective seemed to be entranced in the music as he was swaying around a bit to his playing. It always reminded John that Sherlock had more passions than just solving murders or getting adrenaline rushes. It showed that he was human in more ways than one, and reminded John how much he loved the man.

It didn't take long before Rosie was nodding off. She was soon fast asleep on her baby blanket and clutching her bee tightly against herself while her other thumb was in her mouth. Her little dark curls were also in different directions and made her skin look like porcelain. It occurred to John that she looked more like Sherlock was her father in appearance than John's because of it, but he could still see Mary in her. With a content sigh, he placed a gentle kiss on his daughter's head, grabbed some pajamas, and headed downstairs to get ready for bed.

When he had finished the piece, he opened his eyes to see Rosie had fallen asleep. He watched John kiss her head and fetch pajamas, John was clearly going downstairs to prepare for bed. Sherlock's stomach gave a little flutter (he'd always seen that as rampant sentiment and never believed it could be a physical sensation) when John went to bed, they would have that 'goodnight kiss' and Sherlock found he could hardly contain his excitement. He followed John downstairs and waited in the lounge while John showered and brushed his teeth.

John knew that a goodnight kiss was going to happen, but he decided to not let it take over his thoughts. He completed his night-time routine and took a deep breath as he exited the bathroom. As he entered the lounge, Sherlock stood up awkwardly, not quite meeting his eyes.

"Are you going to bed?" Sherlock asked, feeling stupid - that was obvious!

"Uh yeah…" John paused. "So…"

They both walked tentatively towards each other, nerves on edge.

"Goodnight, John."

"Night Sherlock."

Very awkwardly, the two moved close to each other and had a gentle kiss. Neither of them moved, neither of them dared to, but John moved a hand up to Sherlock's jaw and cradled it while they had their kiss. Once they moved away from each other, John just nodded and went upstairs where he felt content as he went to sleep.