Later the two men found themselves sitting quietly across each other at their favourite armchairs with tea. Nothing exceptional there, their diet was mostly built on tea and biscuits anyway. That, and in John's opinion the brew was the best treatment for stress and shock, so it was an unavoidable necessity needed in this situation. Now as he stared in the swirling depths of his cup he felt a powerful urge to drown in it.

Everywhere he looked, he saw the alarmingly green eyes of Alice, trying so hard not to cry. She was being so strong while everything she had known blasted to pieces, but she would crack eventually. Stuff like this just didn't happen in real life, there should be social services and that kind of shit to prevent childhood mistreatment. Because that was the line the events were clearly taking. Their flat— no, their lifestyle was a complete mess as it was, there was no possible way that the unfortunate child would survive a full week without gaining major physical damage and being traumatised for life. Sherlock had apparently no idea how long Alice would be under his care, and didn't even seem to give a fuck about the whole situation.

Maybe Sherlock was terrified inside? All was possible, after all the detectives brain mechanics were a mystery at the best of times. Earlier he'd sounded pretty eager to dump Alice on John's conscience, though. That seemed to fit into his mannerisms, but to hell the doctor was going to let that happen. Again. John was already taking care of Sherlock's shopping, cleaning, cooking and sometimes laundry. He even answered the other man's phone more often than his own nowadays.

"If you don't stop that speculating about this mess soon, you'll give yourself a migraine."

John ignored the baritone, and sipped his tea. Ew, second thoughts no, it had gone cold apparently some time ago. He glanced quickly at Sherlock, the bastard had probably been observing him for ages now, prepared to play mind games. John sighed in pure desperation and rose to collect the mugs. It was late anyway.

"She's not going to die on us", Sherlock announced. "It might take a while for her mother to return, but we can make it a few weeks."

"Funny, when you say it like that, it sounds similar to the last ' it's not going to blow up, I know what I'm doing '. Remember how that turned out?"

"Not the same thing- it's a child we're talking about, not an experiment consisting explosives."

"She, not it."

When Sherlock didn't say anything to that John decided it was time to go to sleep, though he'd have to move Alice first. He finished washing the cups, and headed to his bedroom. Sherlock had already draped himself on the sofa thinking.

"Sherlock, I'll move Alice to your bed, since you're not using it. That way she's closer to one of us if she needs something, and I can get some sleep too. Okay?"

An irritated grunt, closest to a reply he could get.

"That's a positive then. Thanks and g'night."

...

"John"

He mumbled something perplexing before turning away from the disturbing noise and pulling covers over his sleepy face.

Alice frowned in concentration. Waking her new guardian wasn't as easy as she'd hoped. It was still night, but surely John would wake up when Sherlock was making so loud noises in the living room? Plus she really needed him awake… she was scared and felt alone, although her pride didn't allow admitting that. But she really couldn't help it, she just didn't sleep well.

There really was no other option, nothing else to do, because Alice didn't want to be left alone with the scary man who had a funny name. She still hadn't spoken with him without John around, but the man seemed… weird. And so interesting. But why would two men like that even live together? To Alice it didn't make sense, they were so different. His John was soft, safe and warm… He made her feel much better about everything, and that was really rare for her. Then again, Sherlock seemed cold, dangerous and untrustworthy and Alice didn't like him one bit. He was really mean to John all the time, too. Maybe he was just visiting?

So going back downstairs was out of the question (Sherlock had glared her in a very unkind way the first time she had passed, no need to disturb him again), and John wouldn't wake up. Raising volume was one thing she could think of.

"John!"

Ha, result! He grunted. Didn't wake him, though. Enter new strategy. She grabbed John's blanket a pulled as hard as possible.

"Johnjohnjohnjohnjohnjohn"

"Alright, alright, I'm conscious!"

Alice congratulated herself of this achievement, while John rubbed his face in an exhausted manner.

She was about to open her mouth but his sleepy voice beat her to it.

"I kind of guessed that you wouldn't be able to sleep in Sherlock's room… He's still pacing around, right? He'll probably pass out on the sofa again." Alice wondered about the look of gentle concern that passed on John's face. "I know that you think you can't sleep", he continued, "but I'm still tired. Do you think that you could try and rest a bit with me here?"

Alice's little face fell expressionless, a slight tremble of her lips and a flash of pain in her green eyes betraying some emotion as she stood silent for a while. John decided that he'd let her take all the time she needed, as he had clearly said something that had made the poor child remember something unpleasant.

"My mom-" the rest of the sentence died in her throat. John tried to smile as reassuringly as he could, willing her to try again. It would do her good to express her thoughts a bit.

"Mother- she never… never let me sleep with her."

Painful memories and uncertainty, but he hadn't expected anything less. The doctor's first impulse was to make a horrible joke about it to get Alice to smile, so that was exactly what he did.

"Well, I'm not your mother, am I? And it's fine if you want to stay and sleep here, as long as you don't steal my covers again." That seemed to work at least on some level, as she didn't burst into tears. John just hoped that a little rest would make her feel better in the end.

Alice had decided to climb in with John after all, and was now dozing next to him. Actually, on him would be more accurate looking at the way she was curled mostly on his chest. John wasn't as comfortable as he wanted to be, lying on his back, but he really had no heart to move the girl. He told himself to stay positive: at least his bad shoulder wasn't hurting. Sod it anyway, tomorrow was Sunday and he didn't even have work, thank god for small graces. He could sleep later.
He'd take her shopping and have her hair cut in the morning. "Sleep tight Green eyes."

...

"What are you doing?"

Alice, who was still draped over sleeping John, turned her head towards the voice that had startled her. She saw Sherlock standing beside the bed, frowning at her in an irritated way. Before the girl could take her hands out of John's hair, or muster up the courage to answer the scary man, he talked again.

"Oh don't bother to answer; it's fairly obvious that you are trying to braid John's hair when he's defenceless. What I'd like to know is why are you doing that?"

Alice thought about ignoring the man's presence, but she supposed that wouldn't make him go away.

"I'm practicing… I'm not so good. And the hair's too short, it's hard."

THIS, this was why Sherlock didn't like children. Well, this was actually one of the numerous reasons; there was also the whining, the mess, the noise, annoying questions… But he couldn't stand when his deductions went wrong and that's why kids maddened him even when they behaved. He could always tell a person's background, latest meal and such things just by looking, but he could not understand children's actions. Might be because they often had no motive, young children did what they felt like, which was what happened to pop in their little minds. Then at different times, they all acted according to the simplest patterns. They were unpredictable.

Illogical.

"And what do you think John will say to this?" he continued. The man in question was beginning to gain consciousness, if his shifting was anything to go by. "Ah, he's awake now, let's find out. Good morning John, your hair is plaited."

"Wha- I don't even— " The doctor's hand felt his head. "So it seems. Did you do this?" he asked Alice. She nodded carefully, not quite sure if someone was going to yell at her.

"Hm. I have to say, you did a pretty good job for a five-year-old, Alice."

The girl turned her victorious smile towards Sherlock before replying to John, in a clear 'ha, I told you he wouldn't mind'.

"Thanks John! I'm no good yet, I thought I could practice with your hair but it's too short. Can I try it on him?" She pointed at the detective.

"NO" came the immediate (slightly mortified) response. "Absolutely not, under ANY circumstances. Dear lord, maybe I'll start sleeping behind locked doors…"

"Speaking of bedrooms and privacy, what are you doing here?"

"So it's okay for her to invade your bed and mess with your precious hair-do, but I can't stand here? I should be insulted, really."

That gained a long suffering sigh from John. "You know perfectly well it's not the same with her as with you. And please, let's not talk about invading my bed or Mrs Hudson will hear. She talks enough as it is."

Now Alice had no clue whatsoever about what they were talking about. "Who's Mrs Hudson? What does she talk about?"

The two men glanced at each other very awkwardly. "Er…" began John rubbing his neck, but he didn't really know what to say and how. Sherlock wasn't as fazed. "She's our landlady, which means that we rent this flat from her. She tends to talk about everything and everyone, typical gossiping and so on." Alice wasn't stupid, and she could see when something was left out. However she had learned that grown-ups did that sometimes and she accepted it as a part of life.

John cleared his throat breaking the uncomfortable silence. Well, he was uncomfortable with it, Alice seemed deep in thought and John suspected that Sherlock didn't quite comprehend the concept of awkward.

"My point was that you don't just sneak in my room without a reason. So what was the thing worth waking me for?"

'Damn' was Sherlock's first thought, because that was exactly what he'd done; wandered in without a reason. He just did that sometimes when he was… bored. And no, John really didn't need to know that. This time just hadn't expected the girl to be awake, but he could easily lie his way out of this. Lucky for him the doctor would buy almost anything, as long as it was Sherlock who said it.

"Bored. Want you to text Lestrade and ask if he's ready to give up and let me on the cult suicide/possible murder-case."

Grunt, glare and a glance at the phone.

"FINE." Sherlock slipped a small smile at that, or at least something resembling to a smile.

"But" John said while tapping his phone with an irritated frown, "you're making tea for us and breakfast for Alice. I'm off to shower, so behave."

John left, leaving behind two people who seemed equally unhappy about being left with the other. Alice felt that she was betrayed and wondered if he'd left her just to be mean. To Sherlock it seemed very likely that this was revenge in some distant way.

Deciding that he'd had enough of the ogling Sherlock left to the kitchen. Due to her increasing hunger, Alice couldn't help but follow him.

AN: There. I did it. Still not sure how, or where I found the time to write, but it's something to submit. Yay! Am open to suggestions and opinions as always.
Minor cursing, just so you know .

Comments/reviews are love and so on, and thanks for everyone who have faved/watched in the past! 3