Thank you all so much for reading this! It's the first time this fic's gone over a thousand reads in a day :)

Hope you enjoy this next chapter.

She was asleep; curled up into a little ball on the sofa with Mrs Hudson's blanket draped around her and slipping of her shoulders with every breath.

Squatting beside her Sherlock carefully grasped the edge of the fabric and pulled it back into it's previous position, being careful not to touch Ava at all.

Still, he needed to get her upstairs somehow. John would be home soon and the cold weather usually made his shoulder act up. The last thing he needed to do was carry Ava up the stairs.

Which meant that somehow, someway, Sherlock was going to have to do it.

He'd avoided having too much physical contact with Ava. He'd never had any reason to interact with children before and had no idea what to do or how to carry her.

He hated not being able to make an educated guess.

When he finally reached out a hand to her she was warm. As warm as John usually was when Sherlock had to wake him in the middle of the night so the child in front of him would have no idea what was going on. There was something about the sleepy face of both John and Ava that made him hesitate when he reached for them.

Dismissing that, he slid his hands under her arms, pulling her up towards him. Still asleep, she reached for him, curling arms around his neck and resting a wild head of hair onto his shoulder. Instinctively she seemed to wrap around him with surprising ease.

Shifting her a little to make it more comfortable for himself, he allowed her to burrow into his neck and her fingers curled into his shirt.

Spotting the bear she always carried still on the sofa, he reached for it. John had told him that he'd bought the bear for Ava back when Harry had attempted to raise her and that Ava had hung onto it like it was made of gold ever since.

It was a soft and sensible looking bear with little dungarees and a shirt with a happy smile.

Very John-esque

Shaking himself, he managed to manoeuvre them into the kitchen and towards the stairs.

"Oh you're back," Mrs Hudson said coming down the stairs, "I was just getting her room ready."

Sherlock nodded as Ava snuggled into him even closer and passed Mrs Hudson on the stairs.

"I didn't realise the time otherwise I'd have sent her up." Mrs Hudson continued. In his arms Ava stirred at the conversation and he felt a momentary flutter of annoyance that Mrs Hudson had disturbed her sleep.

But Ava had wrapped her arms a little firmer around his neck.

"It's alright." Sherlock said, shifting Ava a little to avoid being choked. "I'll put her to bed."

"I can do it_"

For heaven's sakes it was hardly difficult, and he was half way up to the flat. Did the woman think he was suddenly going to drop Ava and wander off somewhere?

"It's perfectly fine Mrs Hudson." Sherlock said firmly and continued up the second flight of stairs, ignoring his landlady as she made some sort of awing noise.

His voice seemed to have woken Ava up even more as she squirmed in his arms. For a brief moment he thought she wanted to be put down but she just tried to look up at him.

"Not sleepy," she complained, her voice thick with tiredness.

Amused, Sherlock nodded, "I can see that," he replied solemnly and then smiled when he felt her screw up her nose at his comment.

"Where's Charlie-Bear?" she asked, yawning.

"I have him." Sherlock answered surprising himself at the softness of his tone as he manoeuvred them through the door, narrowly missing her feet catching the frame. "How was your film?" he asked as she seemed to be almost awake.

"Boring."

Chuckling in surprised delight, he found himself tilting his head a little so that his cheek lay on her hair. "My sympathies."

Ava turned pushed further into him, suddenly seeming a lot less alert. "Want Charlie-Bear," she whimpered.

Finding that he could deny her little, he switched he balanced her carefully until he manage to slide the bear into her hands. The bear was promptly tucked under her chin and against his chest.

Somehow he'd ended up in his chair just staring down at her now that she was once again asleep. She'd fallen asleep in his arms as if it was the easiest and most natural thing to her.

Child softness kept him from being able to see what she would look like in years to come. But she slept with utter contentment and a tiny little smile.

The one time he'd tried to put her down she'd whimpered and tightened her grip.

She wasn't even John's daughter and yet the moment he thought it something within him rebelled at the idea. Of course she was John's daughter, blood meant nothing.

Why couldn't he just put her to bed? John would be back soon and it would mean John would take her up and put her to bed. If Sherlock did it now, then he wouldn't have to wait for John to get back down. In fact he could just drag John into his bedroom…

But his arms wouldn't let go and his legs wouldn't move. And the overwhelming urge to just breathe her in was getting harder to resist.

It was utterly incapacitating.

And not at all comfortable in the chair.

John stepped into the bedroom looking as if he was approaching a rare bird that he was determined not to startle.

"Don't start," Sherlock muttered warningly.

But John's mouth had curved into that sweet smile Sherlock so rarely saw and he made his way over to them until he could kneel beside the bed.

"Your leg-" Sherlock started to say.

"Damn my leg," John said softly and without any menace. His head tilted to the side as he stroked Ava's hair gently and then reached up to kiss Sherlock briefly.

Then, with an amused wince, he dragged himself up to perch on the side of the bed. "Or perhaps not," he muttered, rubbing his thigh with a frown.

"Should I find a murderous cabbie again?" Sherlock asked watching the sluggish movements with a frown.

John glared at him, "Let's not go down that path again," he said eventually, "I have no wish to watch you attempt to gamble your life away."

Sherlock clicked his jaw, "I knew which pill was which."

"'Course you did," John nodded, "That was why you kept hounding Lestrade to tell you what the pills were and exactly where they'd been found."

Still bitter about that after all these years, Sherlock tightened his grip on Ava.

"Haven't managed to put her down then?" John asked.

"I said don't start," Sherlock huffed. Then seeing no other option, he relented. "She fell asleep while I carried her,"

John smiled slowly, "Terrifying isn't it. How much trust children can give."

Trust?

"I was a convenient object to fall asleep on," Sherlock dismissed.

John sighed and scooted up the bed so that he was sitting next to Sherlock, who had his back against the headboard.

"You know, if I told her that you'd hung the moon she'd believe me," John said after a while.

Uncomfortable Sherlock twisted to glare at John who was just looking at Ava, lost in thought. They sat in silence as John reached out and stroked a few stray strands of wispy hair out of Ava's face.

John smiled suddenly, "The first time I brought her home it was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life," he said, determinedly not looking at Sherlock. "I just put the car seat in the middle of the room and sat opposite her, staring. And she just stared back at me." John shook his head, "And all I could think was if you were around, somewhere then you'd be trying to do a thousand and one experiments and I wouldn't have a chance to feel so…" John took a deep breath, and then seemed to shake himself.

"So?" Sherlock questioned, curious.

John seemed to struggle with himself. Not because he didn't want to say it but because he clearly wasn't sure of Sherlock's reaction.

And so Sherlock waited.

"Alone," John said eventually, the lines in his forehead wrinkling as he swallowed. "And when Harry…" he trailed off, seeming to want to swallow the words back; as if saying them made them even more true.

Guilt kicked up again. It stirred in his belly and roared through his head, his automatic reaction to snap and snarl to ignore it's presence. But he clenched his teeth and shoved his tongue into the bottom gum, staring ahead at the shelves.

The word wouldn't cross his lips again, and he wasn't even sure if John had heard the soft apology that had tumbled out the night when Sherlock had first seen John again.

Sherlock couldn't even decide if he hoped John had.

Next to him John sighed in frustration. "I wasn't trying to make you feel bad."

"You didn't," Sherlock muttered. Bad wasn't even close to accurate.

A glance at John showed a flash of temper, quickly hidden away and muted before he looked away, his breathing harsh and tense.

Compromise

Hating he uncomfortable sentiment that was pulsing through him, Sherlock looked away from John's stoic profile and found himself gazing down into Ava's sleeping face that was starting to crease and frown. Likely due to the fact that he was tensing up himself and she was feeling it.

Sherlock knew himself well enough to know that he wouldn't apologise, couldn't because, in truth, John feeling alone would always be better than John lying somewhere, bleeding and dead. If, even knowing all the facts, he was asked to do it all over again, he would without hesitation.

"I thought you would be married," Sherlock heard himself say, "happy and dull."

"It is possible to have one without the other," John snapped and then winced, "I didn't mean-"

"I…it seemed very likely that you would have no place for me," Sherlock continued, keeping his tone nonchalant. "No need."

"I always need you," John said softly.

Sherlock closed his eyes.

"We'll leave this," John said sounding suddenly stronger, "Because this conversation…it won't go anywhere and we can't change it." He sounded like he was taking a ragged breath, "But that day…it was the worst thing I have ever…" his words tumbled and cracked between them, "And then the days after…the only time I managed to go into the flat was to get my gun."

Ice ran through Sherlock's veins at the implication of that.

"Everything was vibrant and fast and real when I was with you. And then you were gone and the only reason I got up was because my sister had ruined her life again." John stared at Ava. "She's my light at the end of the tunnel, my reason for going on." John smiled, "But you're the only thing that gives my life colour."

Sherlock opened his eyes and glanced at John who was watching him with something like wry amusement

"What?" he asked, confused at the sudden change.

"I just…as I said it I looked at you…" John was staring to properly grin now.

Sherlock glanced down at his white shirt and black suit and snorted.

They sat next to each other, touching now, Ava still asleep in Sherlock's lap and John's head resting against Sherlock's shoulder.

"Where's the gun now?"

John sighed, "I gave it to Lestrade."

"When?"

"When Harry took Ava back,"

When he'd been worried he might use it again then, Sherlock thought, his hand on John's fingers, even as his shoulder started to ache from the unusual position he was in.

"What I said…what I started to say," John begun, sounding uncharacteristically hesitant, "Was that you're doing really well with her."

"How was that what you were trying to say?" Sherlock asked, craning his neck to try and see John's face.

John pulled back and winced, the position clearly playing havoc on his shoulder, "I was trying not to be obvious about it."

Sherlock considered that for a moment, "You certainly accomplished that,"

John nodded, "Only took me seven years,"

Seven years. A somewhat terrifying amount of time.

Picking the lesser of two evils, Sherlock focused back to the original conversation. "I assume you mean you're impressed I haven't swapped her for nitrogen."

Grinning John shook his head, "Please, if you were going to swap her for something, it would at least be something interesting." The amusement faded slightly, "I meant that she enjoys spending time with you. She really does think you know the answer to everything."

Huffing Sherlock glared at John, "Let me guess, as long as it isn't the solar system." He muttered sarcastically, pre-empting the usual barb.

John's eyes lit up, "I wasn't even thinking about that-"

In his arms he could feel Ava's breathing become less even.

"-But she's much happier now. We both are," John started to stroke Ava's hair as he stared at Sherlock pointedly.

"You trust me with this?" Sherlock asked carefully.

"Yes," John said simply.

""You do understand that I am not equipped to deal with this?" Sherlock pointed out, watching as John glanced at the clock and frowned, "I had the child in tears yesterday." He added.

John sighed as he wriggled away and off the bed, "And yet she's not suffering from any severe mental trauma?" he asked mockingly. "Sherlock, she's five. Five year olds cry over anything. I had one in today who cried because they couldn't remember which toe it was they said was hurting."

Sherlock glanced down at Ava, sure that she would never do that. And her breathing was odd, as if she were holding her breath.

Feeling a slight concern that perhaps she was having a bad dream, he placed his chin on her hair, trying to relax himself in case it was his tension causing her troubled sleep. "She asked me why I hated her." He said as John stretched causing his back to crack.

"And I imagine you now want to argue that she's the only child to worry about a step-parents affection." John replied, sounding utterly unconcerned at the idea.

Step-parent?

"I am not her step-parent though." Sherlock pointed out carefully.

But John didn't seem upset at the correction, or even particularly bothered at the label, ""Fine...father's new gay partner." He replied mockingly with a yawn as he leaned on the bed to switch on the side light.

"Don't be facetious." Sherlock muttered as Ava barely reacted to the change of brightness.

"Can you take my point?" John asked, standing up again. "It's a normal reaction."

She was too still, too tense.

"Her teachers an idiot," he said and watched John's brows draw together at the non-sequester.

Ava stiffened at that.

She was awake.

And surprisingly good at faking sleep.

"You think everyone's an idiot." John said after shooting him an odd look.

"You should allow me to put her in a better school." Sherlock replied trying to gauge her reaction. Watching her face he could see her frown a little.

She was enjoying it then. No secrets to hide at the new school it seemed.

"I thought that was what we did?" John somehow managed to look baffled and suspicious at the same time.

Mind racing Sherlock looked down again, "I'm offering to pay for_"

But John cut him off before he could finish and see Ava's reaction. "I know." John huffed, "Take the hint."

John seemed firmly against the idea of private schooling. Interesting.

"Can I ask why not?" he asked, this time watching John instead.

"Because she's fine where she is." John replied evenly,

Fine? Sherlock glared. "I don't want her to settle for fine." he snapped.

"And I don't want her to feel she has to live up to some ridiculously high Holmesian expectation." John snapped back as he got to the door. "Just...she's fine where she is for now. At the end of the school year we'll talk about it."

That was eight months away. And as if he would let Mycroft's snobbery affect Ava. Looking down he could see her little face screwing up in confusion. As if they had life of their own, his fingers started to stroke her cheek softly, watching as she relaxed a little again. "That's ages away." He said eventually.

"So says the man who couldn't understand why I was upset about him vanishing into thin air for five years." John said. Surprised at the lack of anger in his tone, Sherlock looked over to John who was coming closer again.

"I understood it; I simply chose not to let it stand in the way of things." Sherlock muttered, watching his face closely.

John actually smiled.

And it felt like stepping out of purgatory.

God knew what expression passed over his face because John smiled and leaned over, his hand ghosting through Sherlock's hair and mouth pressing the softest kiss against Sherlock's lips.

"Tea?"

He really was forgiven then.

It was tempting. But to have tea would mean either revealing Ava was awake or not talking to her at all. And knowing John, he would panic at the idea that Ava had even heard a snippet of that conversation.

"I'm fine," he replied.

John nodded and took one last look at the pair of them before making his way out of the room and into the kitchen.

When Sherlock was sure that he couldn't hear, Sherlock took a deep breath.

"Do you always spy on us when you're meant to be asleep?" he asked calmly.

To her credit she didn't try to pretend ignorance as many would have done but instead looked up at him with a mischievous expression. "No. Just when you talk about me." She replied, sounding very much awake. "Is that ok?"

It was understandable.

Sherlock sighed, "I suppose so. Don't tell your father though. He'll be paranoid for months otherwise."

Ava nodded solemnly, "I don't like worrying him," she confessed, as if it were a great secret.

His arm numb from where he'd been holding her, he shifted and she pulled away; moving until she was sat opposite him with crossed legs.

She didn't appear scared or concerned, so it was doubtful she'd heard much of the conversation. He was relatively sure he would have noticed any unusual behaviour, distracted though he was.

"So?" he asked copying her position. "Any thoughts?"

"Mrs Parker isn't an idiot." She huffed, jaw jutting out.

If that was the most concerning thing then it seemed unlikely she'd heard anything damaging.

"She made our Christmas tree look pretty," Ava added, as if that was a worthwhile credential.

"Wonderful," he said, losing some interest, instead working out how to explain Ava's sudden wakefulness to John.

"It's pink and red and gold and green and silver-" she started to rattle off.

Sherlock froze at the sudden image of that many colours in the flat. "No."

Ava's brow furrowed in confusion, "Yes it is," she sulked. "I saw it yesterday. You haven't."

"No…I meant you are not having a tree like that here."

Ava's eyes lit up at the challenge. "Yes I am; Daddy said I could."

Eyeing up the hallway Sherlock glanced back at Ava.

"Have you ever heard of the word compromise?" he asked.

Wooo! We're now caught up to Chapter Two of "Paved with Love"! This fic is going to be sooo long, sigh!