Wow. I am humbled by your response and interest. I know I haven't managed to reply to your reviews yet, but I want you all to know how much your feedback and your interest mean to me. So, thank you.

Here's the next chapter - it's meant to set the scene, mostly. Not much happening here, plotwise.

Enjoy.

AND IN THE DARK, I CALL YOUR NAME

PART I

John I

"John?" Mary asked around the telephone receiver that had been attached to her left ear for the better part of an hour now. It was Gemma calling, of course, and once Gemma had started chattering, one generally had a hard time trying to stop her. Not that John minded, as long as Gemma was talking to Mary and not to him.

"Hm?" he acknowledged, without taking his eyes off their daughter. Amanda was lying on her back next to him on the sofa and waving her small hands in the air, trying to grasp the rattle he was teasing his tiny daughter with. He could feel a smile spread on his face, and the lump that tended to lodge itself in his throat whenever he thought of his tiny little daughter made an appearance.

"Tomorrow evening, after work," Mary explained from where she was sitting in her armchair. "At Mark and Gemma's. Beer for you, cream tea for me. Okay?"

Amanda bubbled with laughter when John gently poked her in the side while she kept trying to grab the rattle. "Sure," he replied and nudged Amanda's tiny nose with the tip of his finger. She giggled again.

"Seven PM?" Mary echoed what John knew to be Gemma's suggestion.

Amanda's short fingers had finally grabbed hold of the red and blue rattle, and John turned to look at his wife. An evening at Mark and Gemma's, after work, sure. He gave a half-shrug, half-nod. "Sounds fine," he said.

Mary flashed him a quick smile and then returned her attention to the phone call. "John says fine," she told Gemma.

Mary had met Gemma in the yoga classes she had started to take immediately after Amanda had been born; Gemma had introduced them to her husband Mark, a lawyer, and ever since then Mary and Gemma saw each other at least once a week, often together with John and Mark.

"Oh no, he's not busy with work," Mary was saying now, shaking her head in emphasis. "He's teasing Amanda."

Amanda squealed in protest when John tried to grab the rattle again. He could feel a smile spread on his face.

"Oh, he is," Mary said, giggling. She directed another glance at him and their daughter. "He's smitten." Covering the phone with one hand, she mouthed: "Gemma says you're enarmoured with Amanda."

John's first instinct was to roll his eyes, a reaction that seemed to be rather common in response to something Gemma said. Smitten and enarmoured weren't exactly words he had ever expected to be directed at John Watson, Afghanistan veteran and army doctor, least of all by Gemma Adams, well-do-to secretary and notorious chatterbox. But then, he mused when he noticed his gaze sliding to Amanda, now resting on her stomach, rattle still grasped tightly in her fists, again, maybe it wasn't too far off from the truth. Maybe Amanda did have him wrapped around her little finger.

On the phone, Mary giggled again. "I know, I know," she sighed. John could practically hear Gemma's shrill laughter ring in his ears.

"Oh, it's lovely," Mary exclaimed suddenly. She flashed John a quick grin before continuing: "Parquet floor, three bedrooms-"

This time, John could in fact hear Gemma's delighted squeak. He barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"-three bedrooms," Mary went on, completely unfazed by Gemma's antics. Amanda yawned widely, a puddle of drool collecting on the sofa beneath her. John picked her up, ignoring her squirming, and placed her on his lap, rattle still clutched in her fists. "Two separate bathrooms, small kitchen, and a garden," Mary listed. "It's a very quiet neighbourhood, just what we were looking for."

The house, yes of course. John and Mary's plans of moving and renting or possibly buying a house on the outskirts of London or, if Mary got what she wanted, not in London at all, came up every time they talked to their friends. In Gemma's eyes, of course, their considering buying a house was proof that Mary was pregnant again. "Oh!" she had cheered the first time Mary had mentioned their plans, "a little sister for Amanda!" Fascinating, John thought not for the first time, how their domestic life had become the single most popular topic amongt their small circle of friends. Even Greg brought it up every time John agreed to go to a pub with him.

"I know," Mary said again. "It would be perfect for Amanda. Our own garden, her own swing set, maybe a dog..."

Moving, a house in the suburbs, away from London, a garden, a dog. John felt his brow furrow at Mary's statement, which earned him another bout of laughter from Mary. "John's not convinced," she informed Gemma.

Amanda bounced on his lap, and John missed whatever Gemma might have said in response.

Mary gave a giggle. "Oh, I think he's just not looking forward to all the lawn-mowing he'd have to do."

John had to smile at that. Ever since her pregnancy, he had been doing all the lawn-mowing, and it still wasn't exactly one of his favourite things to do after a long day at the surgery. Especially since their lawn mower kept breaking down.

"Yes," Mary said. "I know, it's... no. We're still trying to figure out the financial aspect."

Blubbery laughter from Amanda startled John out of his reprieve, and the rattle hit the floor with an almost gentle sound. Excited, she started bouncing again and waving her hands towards the floor. With a small smile, John picked up the rattle and handed it to his daughter – who of course promptly threw it to the floor again. And then beamed at him, her blue eyes sparkling. "Oh no," he told her quietly. "If you do that, then Daddy's allowed to do this." She squealed again when he started tickling her feet.

"It's a bit difficult," Mary was telling Gemma while watching John and Amanda. "You know how it is. The surgery doesn't pay too well, and I'm still on baby break, so... But we're working on it."

Amanda blubbered again, and John bent down to pick up the rattle. They had been discussing moving house for months, in fact. Their flat, as nice as it had been for the two of them, was simply a bit cramped with two adults, a baby and the tons of baby equipment and toys they had somehow managed to acquire. And then, of course, there was Mary's dream of a quiet family life in the suburbs or, even better, the countryside, with a garden for their daughter to play in and...

"Of course we're coming to Daniel's birthday party," Mary said. Gemma, apparently, had once again changed the topic abruptly.

Amanda dropped her rattle again while Mary kept listening to Gemma and nodding occasionally. Most of the time, Gemma seemed to be perfectly content to talk and talk and whoever she was talking to didn't even need to reply.

Mary nodded again and shifted in her armchair. Amanda let out a wail of protest when John didn't pick up her favourite toy, but took a sip from his beer instead. "Of course I'll call you when we've made a decision," Mary reassured the receiver in her hand. She flashed John a look and rolled her eyes, gesturing at her ear. "I'll call you." She nodded again. "Say hello to Mark from us."

Amanda let out another wail and scrunched up her face. "Ssh," John made, "Mummy's on the phone."

Mary squirmed again. "I'll tell him," she said and nodded. "No, I haven't forgotten. Tomorrow evening, at seven."

Gemma's "see you" could be heard over the phone and Amanda's – still moderate – crying.

"See you," Mary repeated and promptly dropped the phone. "Gemma wants me to tell you from Mark that you two have to stick together with your wives planning houses and gardens. And they're looking forward to seeing you tomorrow."

Amanda babbled something under her breath and leaned forwards in John's lap, towards her rattle. "Ssh," John repeated softly and tried rocking her. Mary tended to have more success at calming their tiny daughter than he did. Indeed, Amanda's wailing increased in volume and John felt, despite himself, another smile spread on his face. Oh yes, their daughter definitely had a healthy set of lungs.

"Sounds like someone's tired," Mary muttered and yawned herself. She threw her head back and groaned. "God, I swear, they're good friends, but sometimes, they're just so..." She waved her hands around vaguely, but didn't finish her sentence.

Domestic, John's brain supplied, or suburbian, but he didn't say it.

"We're going to need a babysitter for Daniel's birthday," Mary then announced. "No way is she going to last an entire afternoon."

John pursed his lips and got to his feet; Amanda was still whining quietly in his arms. Their daughter was an easy-going child, who slept through some nights by now, at the age of five months, but if there was something she didn't cope well with at all, it was large groups of loud adults, especially adults she wasn't familiar with. And Daniel, a former colleague of John's, and the guests at his birthday party definitely belonged into that category.

"Mmh!" Amanda screamed and squirmed in John's hold in protest. "Mmh, mmh!" she blubbered insistently, shaking her tiny fists.

Mary stood and approached John. "Come on, darling," she mumbled, taking Amanda into her own arms. "Let's get you to bed, shall we? It's late already."

John watched his wife walk towards the stairs; she was swaying softly with every step to soothe Amanda. His throat closed up for a moment at the sight of their daughter's soft blond wisps of hair and her bright eyes. He hadn't expected, he truly hadn't expected to be so blissfully happy ever again, not after everything that had happened in the past year. But then, somehow...

"Daddy's being slow again," Mary whispered to Amanda, a teasing grin on her face. Amanda gave a whine in response and squirmed again. "I don't think you're going to get a bedtime story from Daddy today."

John felt another smile settle on his smile and followed Mary upstairs.

~(o)~

When Amanda started crying in the middle of the night, John was already awake. He had jerked awake, soaked in cold sweat, and even though he had managed to calm his rapid heartbeat and breathe quietly against the remnants of the dream that had woken him, sleep had kept evading him.

They still happened occasionally, his nightmares. Not nearly as frequently as they had immediately after his injury and discharge from the army, or after he had found out about his wife's hidden past and what she had done.

It certainly hadn't been easy, last year, and after Sherlock had headed for casework somewhere in Eastern Europe, leaving John alone with the shards of his marriage, John had found himself fighting with Mary more often than not. And then Amanda had come into their life, not even two months later, and somehow, everything had changed.

Amanda's wailing kept piercing the quiet in the house, loud and shrill.

Next to John, Mary gave a groan and removed her hand from where it had been resting on his left thigh, maybe to pull her pillow over her head. "Not again," she moaned.

The wailing – for the second time this night – from the room next to their bedroom didn't stop. John started fumbling for the switch of the lamp on his bedside table.

"John," Mary protested, her voice slurred with sleep, when his fingers finally succeeded and bright light cut through the dark room.

The wailing continued mercilessly.

"...she can't be hungry again," Mary mumbled sleepily and didn't even bother to turn around to face John. Or to remove the pillow that was indeed resting on the bed where her head was supposed to be.

John suppressed a faint smile.

No, she couldn't. She wasn't, probably, just had decided that she wanted a bit of attention, or maybe a story, or maybe another soft toy. Or maybe she wanted to be carried around for a bit, or sleep with her parents. The usual.

And of course she didn't give up once she had started crying.

John felt familiar warmth rise in his chest as he thought back to the day their daughter had been born. "I've got it," he told Mary and pulled back the duvet.

"Mh," Mary made and gave a soft sigh. "'nd switch off the light," she slurred from beneath her pillow.

He climbed out of bed and shrugged on a dressing gown while the wailing urged him to hurry up because his daughter demanded his attention.

"Mh," Mary mumbled again as the room went dark and John padded towards the door and their daughter's tiny room.

Amanda's room was dimly illuminated by the night light they kept plugged in. John approached her cot, but of course Amanda had stopped crying now and was smiling at him with what little facial control she had mastered yet, almost triumphantly.

John had never considered himself particularly fit for parenthood, had never seriously employed the idea of having children of his own. And yet, the moment he had first set eyes on the tiny human being that was his daughter, his child, a piece of him and Mary, a sudden warmth had spread in his chest, along with the knowledge that he would love his daughter until the end of his days and had done so since the day she was born. He had, against his own expectations, immediately fallen in love with the tiny bundle of a human. The memory of how the newborn girl in his arms had yawned, ever so feebly, still managed to bring a smile to his face.

Becoming a father had, without any doubt, completely turned his life around.

His lips automatically curled into another smile when reached out for Amanda and carefully lifted her out of her cot, still little more than a feathery weight in his arms.

"Not tired tonight, are we," he mumbled. His smile deepened when she cooed quietly. "Or bored, hmm?"

With a routine that had come to him with almost scary ease, John sniffed at his daughter's botty, caught a whiff of dirty nappy, put his daughter down on the changing table and let his hands flick through the familiar motions of changing her nappy.

Amanda squirmed and protested as she always did until he was finished, had scooped her up again and started pacing, slowly, not yet ready to lay her back to sleep. He had to work tomorrow, again, and thirty minutes in the morning before he left for the surgery and about two hours in the evening, before she started yawning and fidgetting and whining even more than usually, clear signs of her need for sleep, were far too short to satisfy the still very new urge to spend as much time with her as possible.

"Need another bedtime story, hm?" he mumbled quietly, not loud enough to startle her. John didn't consider himself much of a story teller – still remembered certain comments in regard to his blog rather vividly – but Amanda luckily was far too young to criticise him. And Mary and he had established his reading her a story as a sort of bedtime ritual, so there.

"John?"

He flinched and stopped pacing, and Amanda give a brisk wiggle in his grip.

Mary stepped into the room, her eyes fixed on their daughter. "Are you coming back to bed?" she asked and tickled Amanda's cheek with her pinkie. "It's getting cold there without your daddy," she added.

John cleared his throat. "Yes," he replied. "Give me a moment, okay?"

Mary yawned and rubbed her arms. "'course. Night, love," she mumbled and padded out of the room.

"I'll tell you another story tomorrow," he whispered, pressed a kiss to his daughter's head and then carefully proceeded to ease her back into her cot. Of course she wiggled a little and wailed quietly, but John shook his head. "Tomorrow," he repeated.

Mary was already back in bed, but still awake. "Daniel's birthday. Babysitter," she mumbled. "We'll ask Molly and Greg. Or Mrs Hudson, if Molly's got to work. Maybe she's found a new tenant for her flat by then."

John climbed back into bed, resting his head on his forearms. "Mh," he made. Molly and Greg would be happy to have Amanda for an afternoon; Greg was her godfather, after all. And Mrs Hudson had been looking forward to Amanda's birth as if Amanda was her own granddaughter and fussed over her every time he and Mary came to visit.

"'nd we need to talk to the real estate agent again," Mary slurred. "'bout the house."

"Mh," John made again. The house. Moving. Not something he was looking forward to in particular, even despite the help their friends would no doubt offer. The contentedness that had filled him moments earlier had all but disappeared, and their daily worries resurfaced.

Mary yawned loudly and turned to face him, throwing one arm over his middle. "Tomorrow," she mumbled. "Love you."

John pursed his lips and felt Mary snuggling closer. Yes, tomorrow. They had dealt with so much already; they were able to deal with that, too.

Thank you for reading.