I have a sneaky suspicion that this chapter will not be at all what people expected. Warnings for...sentiment and logic I suppose!

Thank you so much for the fab reviews guys - I love reading them. My aim is to try and get up to "Bang Bang" by the end of the Easter Holidays, or at least before school really picks up again.

Hope you enjoy

P.S About to play Buckaroo with my little sister who Ava is based on and she's in charge of the rules. I have already been told "You're old so i go first!"

God help me!

John came home early and marched up the stairs in a way that had Sherlock frown. They were the steps of barely restrained anger and Sherlock could feel his own hackles rise in response. The whirlwind of thoughts and plots from the afternoon were fraying his temper and shredding his patience to the point that he started clenching his hands around the edge of the chair as John got to the top of the stairs and paused in the doorway.

The mild mannered doctor looked as if he were trying to calm down which almost amused Sherlock.

"So Lestrade knows," John said leaning against the frame, with a deliberate manner to his actions and voice.

"Yes." Sherlock replied, daring John to ask more

But John continued on past it, "And you took Ava to a crime scene," he stated, his voice betraying very little other than he was annoyed at something.

"Yes."

"Are you alright?" John asked after a pause, but in the same firm tone.

"I'm thinking." Sherlock replied staring John down.

"Ok." John nodded far too calmly, "Have you had dinner?"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes dangerously at John as the man finally straightened up and made his way into the kitchen.

"Lestrade phoned you?" Sherlock asked, watching John as he walked without curiosity or concern.

"Ava phoned me," John corrected opening the fridge, his drumming fingers almost the only sign that he was no-where near as calm as he was pretending to be.

Ah, the mobile phone. If Sherlock was lucky Ava might have made numerous calls to people.

"You phoned…" Sherlock trailed off, taking in John's attitude that was far more resembling one of a man who had just had a fight, "You went over there?" he asked, standing up and stalking through.

John studied an open tin of baked bins suspiciously and didn't turn, "Have you ever tried going through the switchboard? It's a pain," John sighed and dumped the tin in the bin.

"What did Lestrade say?"

"The phrase, "calm down" was repeated a lot," John said examining the fridge once more.

"Why would you-" Sherlock hissed in sudden fury and pushed the fridge door shut, causing John to angle back slightly. "You talked to Donovan."

John seemed to be weighing the statement up. "Yes," he said after a moment. "In a manner of speaking."

"I am not you; I do not need you stepping in and "helping"". Sherlock snarled.

John didn't flinch, "Don't be childish," he said far too calmly. "I'm not having a fight with you,"

Infuriated Sherlock did the only thing he could think of to spark John's temper.

He reached out, dug his fingers into John's hair and pulled him into a rather violent kiss; all teeth and nips that felt more like doing battle than anything else.

John sighed into his mouth and pulled back, "Fine," he said stepping back.

"Fine?" Sherlock asked, utterly blindsided.

"I'll have an argument if you're so desperate for it," John leaned against the fridge, "Do you have a topic in mind or shall we just see where it takes us?"

Sherlock slammed his fist on the table, "Do not treat me like a petulant child."

John rolled his eyes, "We've had that one far too many times." He said in disapproval.

It was utterly disarming. He had nothing to clash against and it was almost starting to feel like hard work to have a fight.

"I took Ava to a crime scene."

John nodded slowly, "I know, remember."

"And you have no issue with it?"

John frowned, looking confused (finally), "Why?"

"Lestrade did,"

"No, he had an issue with me being unaware as to where Ava was." John corrected. "And, as I told him that as far as I'm concerned the fact that she's with you is all I need to know, he shut up."

The anger he'd been trying so hard to hang onto just dissipated. "Oh," he said, rather blankly. Then his mind scrabbled and fought the lull, hating the way that John was almost managing to soothe him about this.

He didn't want soothing; he didn't want the false sense of security that would shatter when John finally worked out…

John tilted his head, "Ava said you've been quiet all afternoon." He said, trying to observe Sherlock. "Is it because of what Donovan said?"

A quick look at John told Sherlock all he needed to know about that, "Ah, they didn't give you the specifics," he shook his head and pulled out a chair from the table, "How they manage in their job-" he muttered, sitting down.

"Sherlock," John warned, "What did she say?"

Sherlock studied John, "Do you think I'm good for her?"

A muscle twitched furiously in John's jaw and temper sparked in his eyes. "What did she sa-"

"Answer the question."

"No, it's a stupid question," John said frankly, "You hate them."

"She implied that if you kept leaving Ava with me, Ava would turn into a mini freak." Sherlock said, keeoing his voice as matter-of-fact as possible.

John stared at him for a moment and then pushed off the fridge, striding towards the door.

"How romantic of you," Sherlock mocked, throwing John's words from the other day back in his face, "Sweet-"

"This is not the same," John snarled, turning to face him, hand on the door handle.

"I took care of it" Sherlock snapped back, "And need no help continuing to do so."

John took a deep breath and leaned against the door, his back to Sherlock.

"You're not a freak," John said eventually, his voice muffled by the door.

"Thank you for the validation," Sherlock spat with disgust, throwing himself out of the chair and storming towards the living room.

"You know I didn't mean it like-" John started to say, following him.

"I know you didn't mean it full stop," Sherlock plucked his violin up, intending to create such screeches that John would be forced to flee.

But John yanked the bow out of his hands before he could get a proper grip on it, "What does that mean?" he demanded, waving the bow slightly with temper.

"Give that to me," Sherlock demanded imperiously.

"No," John held it behind him, as if that were some deterrent. "What did you mean?" he snarled furiously.

"Last night," Sherlock snapped.

John looked lost, his confusion pulling him out of his anger, "What?"

"Your rather hasty retreat," Sherlock levelled his chin.

"I was tired, some of us need to sleep sometimes,"

"Unlike normal, conventional people," Sherlock asked, not caring that the statement was pathetically overly sensitive.

John raised an eyebrow, "Now you're just being stupid," he muttered, glaring at the ceiling.

"You rolled out of bed so fast-"

"I wanted to go to sleep-"

"I asked you to stay!"

"So you could sneak off into the living room?" John almost exploded. "So I could kick you out of your own bed?"

Sherlock stared at John startled.

"I'm not an idiot," John tossed the bow onto the chair by him. "There, you got your little fight. Bravo" He turned back to the kitchen.

Sherlock stared at the bow and then, in a fit of displeasure tossed the violin down next to it, mind racing. When had John woke up?

The smallest, almost nagging hint of…guilt?...rose up as he watched John's shoulders as he walked away. Tight, tensed, and strained. Sherlock glanced down at the discarded violin, a large part of him just wanting to play and lose his thoughts to the music, just for a little while.

But the other part of him acknowledged that maybe he had pushed John to the boundaries of patience and comfort over that past few days. And if John could skirt those boundaries then so could he, damn the consequences.

"I care for Ava."

John stopped and turned to him, "And?" he asked, his temper making him short.

Sherlock stared back, suddenly unsure of how to phrase his issue. But John saw, softened and stared at him with sudden gentleness.

John had a terrifyingly forgiving nature at times.

"You didn't know that?" John asked sounding disbelieving. "I thought you just didn't want to make a fuss."

"I didn't want to leave her alone in the car," Sherlock wanted to throw something. "Which was foolish and sentimental and utterly illogical because she was surrounded by police and I had taken every precaution under the sun but…I…"

John sighed returning to the living area but not quite to Sherlock, rather he seemed to be drawn to the window, sheltering in the dim light that was cast from outside, "Had every possible unlikely scenario flash through you head and imagined the very worst happening?" he said calmly, finishing Sherlock's thoughts.

Sherlock nodded once.

John stared out the window for a moment before refocusing on Sherlock, "I stayed up all night when she was born, convinced she was just going to choke in the middle of the night, or roll over suddenly and break her neck. And I'm a doctor!" he added with a self-deprecating half grin.

The attempt at placating humour annoyed Sherlock enough to wrench his morbid thoughts out from where they'd been festering in his mind all day, "Whereas I sat here all day imagining what would happen if Moriarty worked that out," Sherlock said coldly.

The sudden intake of breath startled Sherlock as John paled a little.

"Perhaps it would be better if we waited until after," Sherlock said after a moment.

John blinked and then scrapped his hands over his eyes as he worked out what Sherlock had been doing, then shook his head, clearly attempting to focus on what Sherlock was saying, rather than the images his words were creating.

John shook his head, "No." he said forcefully, "No, I refuse to give him that much power of our lives. Besides, we went through this at Christmas." John shrugged, "It's me he'll use."

He said it with such a casual acceptance that Sherlock saw red all over again.

"I can't guarantee that," he snarled, stalking forward, "I can't even pretend that I would try to guarantee that."

"The alternative-"

Sherlock swallowed and watched the understanding flare in John's eyes.

Next would come disappointment.

John seemed to consider his words hard.

"Sherlock," he took a breath and then seemed to change his mind, "You're like a bloody yoyo tonight," he muttered.

That had not been the reaction he's expected to get from informing John that he would rather sacrifice Ava than the man in front of him.

"She's a child. One you care about, deeply. But you haven't had that moment," John shrugged. "If it helps you at all, I think you probably will."

"What are you blethering on about?" Sherlock snapped.

"I love Ava. I always have. But she wasn't mine. Not until I got her the second time. And there is this sudden paradigm shift Sherlock. It's not just that she's a child or that you think she's cute or hellish, or hate seeing her upset. Suddenly the world tilts and…" John stumbled and shook his head, "I don't expect that she would be your gut choice at the moment, especially after all that happened."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, "And you don't think that's odd?"

"I think that's normal," John said softly stepping closer. "But do you know what I think is the most amazing thing?"

Amazing? Sherlock eyed him suspiciously. "What?"

"That the self-proclaimed sociopath has spent the entire afternoon feeling guilty about it. And worried about it." John said softly. "And the last five minutes confusing the hell out of me."

Sherlock drew in a breath, refusing to process those words as he stepped forward, "And do you know what I think is amazing?" he asked.

John, to his credit, narrowed his eyes and seemed to brace himself. "What?"

"Your sheer naivety that this is going to work and that you'll still manage to be a passable father."

John's jaw twitched and his arm stiffened, as if it was taking a lot of effort to resist reacting. He stared past Sherlock, clearly determined not to reply in case he couldn't keep a hold of the words that would flood out when he did.

Feeling hollowly satisfied, Sherlock bent to pick up his violin.

"I've never been under any illusions of achieving that," John said after a moment, his voice thick with so many emotions that Sherlock's head buzzed just trying to track them all.

"Don't be melodramatic John, that wasn't what I was insulting." Sherlock tried to work out how many times John had stopped him from playing now, distracting himself from that horrible sinking feeling that he so rarely felt and hated.

Silence lay between them, thick and heavy.

John broke it suddenly, "There are more important things to life than just being safe. There's being brave, stubborn, confident, independent, intelligent, creative, intuitive, and resourceful. Enjoying life" He swallowed, "I want my daughter to one day know how to keep herself safe and to be able to get whatever she wants out of life. And I never felt I was succeeding in that, until you became involved with us."

Sherlock scrambled for an argument, even as his chest felt oddly tight. His mind danced from one possibility to the next-

"And I honestly do think that one day there will be a day where you won't believe we ever had this conversation. That you'll probably delete it as a pointless fight because your opinion won't be the same as it is today." John reached out to open the window, distracting himself with the task. "But I will make two things clear Sherlock: I know, without doubt or hesitation, that you are a good influence on Ava and if you ever dare chose me over her I will ensure that you lose both of us in one fell swoop. Clear?"

"Crystal." Sherlock said after a moment, searching John's face for a lie or misdirection. His mind skittered away from his reaction when he couldn't find what he was looking for because, honestly, it wasn't right to feel that much relief and terror at once.

John nodded, "Then stop being such an insufferable arsehole and grow up. You asked for this; you begged me for this. And I'm not naïve enough to try and change you but I will not be at the mercy of your petulant moods either."

John reached down for the bow and seemed to consider it. Relieved that John's…lecture was over, Sherlock picked up his violin and held out his hand for the bow.

"Do you think I've had any influence on you?" John asked slowly, running his hand along the bow.

It made Sherlock wince, "Yes. Don't do that."

"You've changed me," John said, ignoring him. "I'm doing things I never thought I'd do."

"That's been obvious," Sherlock somehow managed to restrain himself from just tearing the bow out of John's hands.

Then John raised his head with a triumphantly dangerous look.

"Isn't it," he said, and with a graceful twist of his hand threw the bow out the window.

Sherlock stared in horror and then looked at John.

"Dinner?" John asked turning back to the kitchen.

"That was entirely childish and immature." Sherlock announced as he carefully placed the rescued bow back where it belonged.

John nodded, "It was," he agreed easily, "So was trying to start a fight just because you felt uncomfortable. Call it even?"

Sherlock watched him as John read the cooking instructions on some frozen food with far too interest. "If you stay tonight," he said clipping the case up.

"I will if you will," John pulled the pie out and seemed to study it delicately as if it might crumble in his hands.

"There was once a time when you just said, "Yes Sherlock," Sherlock muttered walking to stand next to John.

"I'm sure you'll hear that at some point tonight," John said without any sympathy, placing the pies on the baking try with what could only be called relief. "Did you want one?"

"No." Sherlock looked at the frozen pastry with disgust. "What did Lestrade say?" he asked, hating the curious urge to find out rather than just wait and deduce it the next time he saw the Inspector.

John deposited the pies in the oven as if relieved to be rid of them. "About?"

"John," Sherlock growled warningly.

"He…told me to be careful." John leaned back against the closed oven, folding his arms as if expecting another row. "I think he was…is under the impression that you'd rather take up Morris dancing than admit to…being sentimental."

Sherlock stared at John hard, acknowledging the hesitant pause. "What did you say?"

"That I was aware of what you were like and had made my choice," John shrugged as if it wasn't important. "And that if that was his only concern then he could damn well say congratulations and take me out for a pint next week."

He moved to open the cupboard and Sherlock caught his wrist. "John-"

"Don't," John didn't pull away but didn't seem happy with the contact either, "We just had an argument about you admitting to caring about Ava. I really don't have the energy for anything more tonight. God knows what you'd do to compensate."

But Sherlock pulled him closer and John allowed it, reluctantly. "I do not do obvious," he said when their faces were close together.

John nodded, not quite meeting his gaze.

"And I know I can be difficult." Sherlock continued, just about feeling John's smile, they were so close.

"Thank you." he said after a moment.

John tilted his head, as if considering that. "I…ok." He nodded as though trying to make the words compute.

But Sherlock wasn't sure how to say more. How he could explain that John was doing everything right even if Sherlock was being slightly erroneous in his actions. And when John pulled away to continue dinner preparations Sherlock stood still, where he'd been left, his mind flicking through words and speeches and memories that might help him in this situation.

And then there was something, a niggling residual memory from one of his earliest cases with an aging man and a fifty year old mystery. An old song that the client had once crooned to his missing sweetheart.

He opened up the laptop and found what he was looking for, then, opening the violin case (again!) he started to play.

Eventually John wandered over, on his way up to see Ava.

"What song is that?" he asked, sounding half curious.

Sherlock nodded at the laptop and turned his back to John not wanting to see the look on his face, "I do not have the voice for these sorts of things," he said, not even risking using the windows glass to watch John as he read the lyrics

There was a long, long silence.

"Thank you," John whispered, before going up to Ava.

The moment he was out of the room Sherlock stopped, put the instrument away and looked at the lyrics on the screen before closing it up, the words imprinted in his brain as thick as parchment and ink.

You always hurt the one you love,

The one you shouldn't hurt at all.

You always take the sweetest rose,

And crush it till the petals fall.

You always break the kindest heart,

With a hasty word you can't recall.

So, if I broke your heart last night,

It's because I love you most of all.

The song is "You always hurt the ones you love" and was performed by the Mills Brothers (among many). I don't actually think it would be all that easy to play on the violin but Sherlock is a genius so...you know...he'd manage.

I don't know if this is confusing or overly sentimental or coldly logical or what...i suppose it could be seen as any...

I also didn't add in Sherlock's reaction to Ava's picture and I don't think I will - I will make references to it but I think at this point i would be a bit too much sweetness!

Hope you enjoyed :)