John woke to find himself in bed alone. He looked over towards the baby bed and saw Rosie sitting there staring at him. She clapped her hands and said, "Dadada!" He smiled at her and climbed out of bed.
Reaching down into the baby bed, the doctor picked up his little girl. "Let's go find Dad. You don't have to tell him we're calling him that though, not yet. You know how he gets." John kissed her on the top of her head as he carried her into the living room.
Sherlock looked up from his microscope as John and Rosie made their appearance. "Good morning." He tilted his face up in a clear invitation for a kiss.
John obliged him with a smile. "Good morning yourself." He had to make a grab for Rosie with his right hand as she lunged towards the detective.
With a smile for the little girl, Sherlock held out his arms and took her. "Good morning to you as well." He kissed her on the cheek. Looking up at the doctor, Sherlock swallowed hard. "I left you something on the mantle. You might want to make coffee first, before you read it."
John raised an eyebrow. "Is it a love letter?" he teased.
"It's a letter written in love," the detective said. "Not quite the same thing."
"That's... Well, I don't know what to say. It's going to take some getting used to, hearing you say things like that." John chuckled a bit self-consciously as he started the coffee maker. As soon as the coffee was ready, he made himself a cup and one for Sherlock. Next, he ventured to the mantle, where he picked up the letter, then he settled down in his chair to read it.
In the kitchen, the detective busied himself by preparing Rosie's sippy cup and a bowl of baby cereal. He didn't want to be aware of John as he read the letter and the little girl offered the perfect distraction.
John began reading Sherlock's letter, smiling at the endearment contained in the greeting. The smile immediately faded as he read the first line of the letter and discovered its topic. He was touched by his boyfriend's faith in him and by his concern, but that only served to make him more nervous about what the rest of the letter contained. He steeled himself and read on.
The doctor read about the two years of Sherlock's absence, about his loneliness, his hardships and hiding. The thought of his boyfriend suffering through that made his heart ache for him. Sherlock was so much more sensitive than he admitted to being. Those two years had to have been hell on him. He shouldn't have gone through that, not for him.
When John read Sherlock's words about Mary and Rosie, he had to put the letter down. With a shaking hand, he wiped a few stray tears from his eyes. The tears weren't just for Mary, but for Sherlock. Once again, his boyfriend had shown that he wasn't the sociopath he had so often claimed to be. Even now, he was putting John's happiness before his own.
Despite his best efforts, Sherlock couldn't help but notice that the doctor had stopped reading. Even looking at the back of his head, he could tell that John was softly crying. He wanted to go to him, but didn't think he could do it without making things worse. Instead, he continued feeding Rosie.
John picked up the letter and forced himself to continue reading. After he read about Sherlock's captivity and torture and how he had given up hope, tears began to run freely down his face. Knowing that it had only been Mycroft's intervention that had saved the detective only served to reinforce his newfound respect for the older Holmes brother. Even if Sherlock never got around to thanking him, John certainly would. To think he could have lost Sherlock for real and never have known it. He suddenly felt sick to his stomach. Lurching to his feet, he ran to the bathroom and knelt before the toilet, his stomach heaving.
Sherlock set Rosie on the floor, then stood up on shaky legs. He was more than a bit affected by John's reaction. He made his way to the bathroom. "John..."
"I'm fine," the doctor lied as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I guess I wasn't ready for that," he said with a false smile as he leant back against the cool tiled wall of the bathroom.
Sherlock sat down next to him without saying anything. He grasped John's hand and held it, offering silent comfort. After a minute or so, Rosie came crawling into the bathroom and crawled in between them, settling there. They stayed like that for some time as the little girl entertained herself.
