Author's note: I know i've updated this fanfiction quickly but I actually wrote it a long while ago and am only publishing it now. I think I know where this story may go and i'm worry it is a little slow, as I am only just getting started. There will be a lot more Sherlock/John to come as well as lots of cute fluffiness. I love reviews, so please feel free to share your thoughts.
Watery rays of sunlight poured through the gaps in the curtain and splayed across the sofa, carefully creeping upward as dawn rise transformed into the late morning. John stirred slightly as the sun's warmth tickled his cheek and as he did so, he awoke the snoozing baby on his chest. Matthew gave a sharp cry which awoke the doctor very suddenly and he jerked forwards, catching Matthew just in time in the palm of his strong hand.
"Oh." Was all John could manage as the memories of the previous night flooded back into his head and the baby in front of him became recognisable. He pushed himself off the sofa with one hand, groaning as his knees clicked slightly, and rocked Matthew gently to calm him down. He flattened the small tuft of fluffy brown hair on the baby's head and rubbed his nose against it, chuckling to himself. Matthew's tiny fingers curled into John's shirt and tugged it slightly.
"Coo-ee!" Mrs Hudson's sing-song voice called from below them and the sound of her heels tapping against the wood of the stairs became gradually louder until the door opened and a cheery face popped around it. "John, dear! I was wondering if…oh. Gosh." She stopped talking for a moment to stare at Matthew who hiccupped in her direction. "Now who is this little fellow?" She grinned, her eyes going wide.
"Ah, Mrs Hudson." John rubbed his eye with his free hand and gave a slight yawn. "This is Matthew. He appeared on our doorstep yesterday morning, you wouldn't have any idea where he came from, do you?"
Mrs Hudson shook her head, her face coated in delight as she cooed at Matthew, tickling his tummy. "I haven't a clue. I bet Sherlock isn't happy about this new arrival." She laughed quietly and allowed the room to fade into a comfortable silence. John looked wonderful with a child, Mrs Hudson decided. He looked softer, less military-like and more fatherly. His hand was cradling the child protectively and his eyes had a distinct glow to them which she had seen before in the eyes of dads holding the hands of their children, walking through the park on warm afternoons.
"Not really." John chuckled, bringing his other hand to support Matthew and holding him to his chest where he burbled happily. "He thought that the baby was a trap. He thought it was Moriarty or something, trying to catch us off guard. To be honest, what I'm most worried about is clothing the poor thing. And I'll need a pram, and bottles and nappies and all that."
"Oh, actually dearie." Mrs Hudson tapped her hand against John's arm. "I've got lots of my son's old baby things hidden in a box somewhere. I was keeping them in the off chance that he'd use them for his child someday, but he never seemed to need them. I could fetch them?"
"That would be brilliant, thank you." John nodded, watching the woman as she tottered off downstairs again, mumbling to herself about what a miracle the child was. John peered down at the child in his arms. A miracle? Perhaps. More like a hindrance to Sherlock. Just as he thought of his flatmate, the man walked through the open door and flung himself onto the sofa.
"Nothing." He snapped, shutting his eyes tight and unfolding himself over the length of the sofa, stretching from one end to the other.
"What's nothing?" John asked with a slight sigh, gently placing Matthew in his armchair as he went to the kitchen to make a strong cup of tea for himself and his flatmate.
"Nobody has any idea about this baby. I checked the cctv cameras of the street, there are no traces of where it came from. A very blurry black figure places him on the doorstep then waddles off. I can't even begin to deduce who the person is, it was just such a rubbish recording. I've asked Lestrade, Mycroft, anyone that would have an idea. Nothing." He spat the last word, his eyebrows furrowed.
"Look, Matthew is causing us no danger being here." John poured the boiling water into his mug, then Sherlock's. "He's got nowhere to go. Maybe he was honestly just given to us as a gift."
"God, you're so naïve John!" Sherlock yelled, scaring Matthew and causing him to wail out in fear. Sherlock rolled his eyes, turned over on the sofa and curled into a ball, covering his ears with a pillow. John slammed his teaspoon down onto the counter and ran to the child, lifting him into his arms once more and rocking him gently, but Matthew continued to holler.
"JOHN SHUT THAT THING UP!" Sherlock shouted, throwing the pillow in John's direction. It was just at that moment that Mrs Hudson appeared at the door and John quickly made his way over to her, thrusting Matthew into her arms. He then stormed back over to Sherlock, hands on his hips, his face burning with rage.
"SHERLOCK HOLMES, LOOK AT ME THIS INSTANT!" Mrs Hudson squealed in shock at John's outburst and covered Matthew's ears, carrying him back down the stairs. "I've put up with your experiments, your violin playing through all hours of the night, your shooting of the walls, your insulting comments about how 'dull' I am. I've put up with it all. And you know why? Because sometimes you make the world seem so much more exciting. You make my life so much brighter, so much better. You're the most arrogant sod I've ever met, but you're also the most incredible." John's rage rattled through him and he sighed as it dissipated, his red face fading back to its soft shade of pink. He sunk into his chair, looking down from Sherlock's piercing blue eyes and focussing on his feet.
"You know what? I've wanted a child ever since I was one myself. I'm getting old now Sherlock. I might never have the chance, especially not with the lives we lead..." He turned his voice into a whisper, his words cracking slightly. Sherlock knew that these were things John had never uttered to another soul and he walked to where John was sat, kneeling in front of him.
"Continue, John, please." He muttered, placing a hand on John's knee which seemed to burn through the fabric, the warmth spreading through his entire leg. John shivered slightly and nodded, his mouth going dry as it continued to become more difficult to speak.
"I really enjoy having Matthew here. I'd love to just keep him, please? Even if it's only for a little while longer. A week or two? Just until we can find him a safer home." John coughed into the tension ringing through the air, breaking it slightly. Sherlock sighed, nodding his curly mop of hair and standing up.
"Okay." Was all Sherlock said before sitting back on the sofa, pressing his palms together and resting his fingers against the bridge of his nose. John breathed out heavily through his nose, relaxing slightly into the chair and uncurling his once clenched fists. He rose shakily from his seat, silently deciding that the conversation was over, and made his way downstairs to apologise to Mrs Hudson and to sort through the baby things she had kindly fetched for him.
Sherlock watched him leave with the smallest of smiles on his lips. John Watson. His stubborn best friend. He almost felt guilty for being so harsh on the man, and decided there and then that keeping Matthew, if it made John happier, was the least he could do to repay him. Well, he wondered, how difficult could it be to look after a baby?