Author's Note:
I am going to update every day, like I usually did on my previous stories! =) So, here is the next chapter.
John's arms tensed around Sherlock, his toes curling for a moment as he mumbled into Sherlock's back. It was brief and he relaxed again, continuing to mumble. "Jus' stay down..." his hand curled against Sherlock's stomach. "Don' fire." He inhaled a deep breath and curled one leg, wrapping it tightly around Sherlock.
Sherlock frowned a bit. John was obviously dreaming. Would it turn into nightmare? He gently ran a hand along his husband's arm. "Easy my dear doctor. You are safe with me," he whispered. Hopefully that would help to calm his partner. His other hand found John's and gave it a gentle squeeze of reassurance.
John grunted at the contact but relaxed further into Sherlock. It took him a few moments but he slowly opened his eyes. "'M gonna move," he mumbled against Sherlock's back slowly. "Let you lay down," he added, almost as an afterthought. He moved, curling a led behind Sherlock's back before flopping on to the mattress with his back to his husband. He curled into a tight ball and fell back asleep with a sigh.
Sherlock shifted and waited for John to settle. He curled into his husband, wrapping an arm around the other man. Was he just being a stubborn child at this point? He sighed, nestling his head into his partner's back. Hopefully his closeness would help calm John down and his husband would sleep sound for the rest of the night.
John relaxed the moment Sherlock touched him, uncurling slightly from the tight ball he had rolled himself in. The comfort, even while he was asleep, was wonderful. Especially from his husband. He slept soundly until the sun started peaking in through the windows, groaning at the brightness. Dark. Sleep. John groaned again and turned in Sherlock, pressing his face into his husband's chest.
Sherlock had actually tried to sleep at some point but it evaded him the entire night. He remained curled around John. He barely moved at all, until he felt his husband stirring next to him. His partner didn't seem quite awake, so he remained quiet but he gave John a small sideways hugs.
"Wanna sleep all day," John grumbled into Sherlock's bare chest. He had stayed up for so long, hadn't slept properly in days, and it had suddenly hit him hard. "Morning." He blearily opened one eye and pressed a soft kiss against his husband's chest.
"Morning." Sherlock was glad John had slept so long. He gave the top of his husband's head a kiss. Little Sandi had slept too. "We can just lay here awhile, if we want. Mum will probably want us to stay for breakfast before we leave today."
"Even after brunch yesterday?" John lifted his head slightly and giggled, pressing the tip of his nose against his husband's with a sheepish smile. "I would love just sitting here with you," he whispered, tilting his head to softly meet Sherlock's lips. "I love you, stubborn git." He lifted a hand and ran it through Sherlock's unruly hair.
"My Mum will want to make sure I eat. She will probably have the syrup ready." Sherlock smirked a bit and pulled John a little closer, by wrapping his arms around his husband and drawing him into a hug. "What do you want to do once we are back home? Take it easy obviously, but anything you want to do or get done before our honeymoon?"
"I don't care. Just be with you," John mumbled with a small shrug. "Probably buy new clothes for Amy. She is going to grow a lot while we are gone." He paused and dropped his head for a moment, admiring Sherlock's body pressed against his own. "Buy some whipped cream." He added lowly as he lifted his gaze to his husband's. "Or in your case, syrup."
"Little Sandi will be three months by the time we get back from our honeymoon." It had felt like more time than that had gone by to Sherlock. Probably due to everything that had happened recently. He smirked. "What can I say? I am rather fond of syrup, maple specifically. I had forgotten I liked it so much until yesterday."
"She is going to be old." John said with a low chuckle, twisting slightly to look at the crib. "So old. Oh so very old." He turned and placed a quick peck on Sherlock's lips. "I can't wait," he whispered softly. "A month alone with you. My husband." He smiled foolishly and snuggled into Sherlock. "We will make a mess with syrup," he commented softy.
Sherlock grinned slightly and snuggled into John even more. "Not only would the syrup be messy but it would also very sticky. We would have to shower every time we used it." The grin turned into a smirk."Which, if you ask me wouldn't really be all that bad."
"I wouldn't be able to get you off me," John said with a grin, clearly not opposing the idea. He shivered slightly and glanced over Sherlock's shoulder. Shower. "I am going to pop in the shower. Get a bit warm, wash off." He placed a quick kiss on Sherlock's lips and climbed over him, jumping on to the floor and sauntering into the bathroom. "Be back soon. Unless you want to get a bit clean, too?"
"As tempting and lovely as that sounds, one of us should probably stay in case little Sandi wakes up." Sherlock sat up and indicated the crib. "I will take one when you are done my dear doctor." He stretched and got up off the bed, getting a fresh set of clothing ready for himself.
John nodded and glanced at the crib, standing on his toes to get a glance at her. Amy was curled tightly around the stuffed dog in her crib, sleeping peacefully. Good. He took one last glance at his husband before dropping his pajama pants and underwear and climbing into the shower.
Amy twisted in the crib, clutching tighter to the stuffed dog and turning to gaze at Sherlock through the bars of the crib. She didn't do anything else, her little chest moving rhythmically.
When the clothes were placed on the bed he decided to check on little Sandi. She had slept all night, probably due to staying up way past her bed time. "Why good morning Baby Girl." He picked her up carefully. Okay. He could do this. It didn't take long for him to recall all the books he had read. He checked her diaper. She would need a bath and fed as well, he figured.
Amy gurgled and gazed absently at the ceiling, a hand moving to rest on Sherlock's bare chest.
John finished his shower and grabbed a towel, leaving the bathroom as he rubbed at his hair. "Oh, good morning Miss Holmes-Watson," he whispered, moving to place a kiss on her forehead. "You slept very late, you lazy little girl." He looked at Sherlock and managed a lop-sided smile. "Want me to change and bathe her? You can shower."
Sherlock was looking down at little Sandi when his husband came back. He arched a brow. "That was a quick shower. Then again, I wasn't there to distract you." He smirked a bit. "You sure?" He asked, even though he passed off their daughter to John.
"Of course. Go shower." John lowered a hand to smack Sherlock's ass with a smirk. "Now you, Miss Amy, let us get you ready for today." He placed a second kiss on her forehead and moved to the bed, snatching the diaper bag from under it. He moved into the bathroom and washed her off before bring her back to the bed. "Hi there," he whispered as he put a new diaper on. "Oh yes, look at you. All clean and ready for the day." He tugged a small dress on her, opting to leave her barefoot as he sat on the bed and wrapped her in his arms. "Hi, Amy. I'm your Daddy," he whispered in her ear, holding her close like he was afraid he would lose her.
Sherlock smirked at John and then disappeared into the bathroom. He took a longer shower than John had. For awhile he just stood under the spray of the hot water. Once done, he stepped out of the shower and dried off. He didn't bother to wrap a towel around and returned to the bedroom, and began dressing. It was nice not having to wear a damn tuxedo.
John glanced up at his husband for a moment and smirked. "Oi, stop it, Sherlock. I am trying to stay focused on healing." He looked back down at Amy, who stared back up at him with wide eyes. Christ, she was amazing. His daughter. "D'you ever find yourself looking at her in amazement? That she's here? A little human?" He asked softly, reaching a finger out for her to grasp.
Sherlock smirked. "It isn't my fault I look amazing. Just got good genes. Oh and by virtue of being me, I am perfect anyway." Oh no. Were these more of those 'googly eyed' questions? He was silent for a moment while he finished dressing. Lie? Tell the truth? Would this start a fight? "No, not really..." He answered cautiously.
John's eyes lifted swiftly, his entire body tense for a long moment. It was Sherlock. He felt like they had already had that conversation. "Who knows," he whispered, looking back down at their daughter. "Maybe you will soon." His lips quirked to one side and he wiggled his finger. Amy watched him for a moment and grabbed his finger again. "I do, at least." He shifted and his towel tugged a bit lower on his hips. "I can't believe it."
Sherlock tensed when John did and he thought for sure this was the beginning of another fight. Whew. He relaxed and nodded slightly. "Maybe," he muttered. Now he just wanted to leave the room. Go smoke a cigarette perhaps. Instead he stayed in the bedroom but he remained quiet. He wasn't sure what to do or say.
It was obvious now that John had made Sherlock uncomfortable. It wasn't intentional, really, but every time Amy was in his arms he just felt... moved. Wonderful. Like he could conquer a country for her. "Sorry," he whispered after the long pause. "I didn't... it wasn't..." He cleared his throat and nicked his head to the side. "Sorry."
Sherlock shrugged. "It is fine. I was just...worried another fight was going to happen..." He admitted. He was silent for a moment and then looked over to John. "I'm sorry that I don't...see things like you do... I know it makes me difficult to live with, but I'm trying John." He was trying his best to explain things to his husband.
Fight. Well, they had certainly done a lot of that recently. It shouldn't surprise John, really. "Sherlock, I fell in love with you and I know what I'm getting myself into, yeah? Don't change because I am a stubborn git sometimes. I know... I know that you don't see the little things like me but I think that's why I'm married to you." He smiled a bit and shrugged. "I think I'm with you to show you those little things, even if you don't care."
Sherlock nodded, feeling slightly better. It was nice a change to be able to talk about things calmly without one or the other getting upset about things. Well, now what? The issue seemed to be solved now though. "Ready for breakfast then?" Change the subject. Get the day on with. Seemed as good as any course of action that needed to be taken.
"Of course." John stood slowly, holding Amy protectively to his chest, and looking around. "Is... somebody going to come up and put all our stuff in a car?" He asked with furrowed brows, glancing at his husband. He honestly didn't feel like carrying all of that downstairs and to a car. Didn't the manor have people who did that? He moved toward his husband and placed a quick kiss on his cheek. "C'mon, let's fill you full of food... and syrup." He grinned as he opened the door.
Okay, good. Sherlock nodded. "Yes, of course. I will tell someone to tend to the bags when we get down to the dining room." He followed John out of the room and down the stairs. He wasn't hungry but maybe he would manage to eat something for his husband. His mother was already there and he gave her a small smile.
"Good morning boys!" Nancy exclaimed cheerily. After talking with her sons last night, she was feeling much better.
"Good morning, Nancy." John said with a small smile, taking his seat and shifting Amy to cradle in his left hand. "Here, Sherlock." He shifted and put two pancakes on his husband's plate, pouring syrup on them with a smile. "Eat up," he said as he put some eggs on his plate and took several small bites. "Tell Papa to eat, Amy," he said against the top of her head. She responded with a small squeak.
"Good morning," Mycroft sat down in his chair and dug right into the breakfast foods. "Gregory is still asleep. Long night," he muttered.
Sherlock sat down and stared at the plate of food. How many times would have to humor John and do ordinary things he didn't do often until it was necessary? He sighed and picked up a fork, cut a piece off, and shoveled it into his mouth. He didn't look up at Mycroft as his brother entered the room.
Nancy smiled and began eating the food off her plate. After chewing, she spoke to her youngest on. "Eating two day in a row, Sherlock? Well it is about time."
Another mistake. John heard it in Sherlock's sigh. Shit. Bad. "Sorry," he muttered around a mouthful of scrambled eggs. He just... wanted to keep his husband healthy. Happy. Apparently he was doing a bad job. "Don't have to eat, Sherlock," he whispered. Why was it now that they were married they could only shag and make tense situations? Was this how it was always going to be?
Mycroft lifted his head slowly, smirking at the two men across the table. "Oh, Mummy, John is just making him eat. It is clear who's in charge in this relationship."
Sherlock looked up from his food, glared at Mycroft, threw his fork down and then stormed out of the dining hall. Shit. He sighed again and made his way to his father's study. It didn't take long for him to find a pack of cigarette. He sat down behind the desk, lit up and inhaled deeply.
"Mycroft! Why do you always provoke your younger brother so? Go apologize immediately!" Nancy chastised her oldest son.
John jumped slightly and the sound of the fork hitting the table made Amy let out a small cry. "Oh, Baby Girl, shh..." He started to rock her, whispering in her ear as he watched Mycroft stand up. "Don't talk to my husband like that," he growled softly, turning his attention back to the infant as she let out another cry.
"Wonderful," Mycroft muttered, moving into their father's study and narrowing his eyes at the sight of his younger brother smoking. "You shouldn't be smoking indoors," he muttered, not looking at Sherlock.
"The Old Man used to smoke in here all the time." Sherlock shrugged and continued smoking. Every inhale was deep and exhale slow. "What do you want? Come to tell me what to do some more? Because I am not in the mood Mycroft. So kindly sod off and leave alone, would you? Tell Mummy everything is fine between us."
Mycroft tensed and finally looked at Sherlock. "He is already stressing you out," he pointed out with a worried expression. It was obvious that his one comment wasn't enough to push Sherlock to smoking. It was clearly the result of several things piling up. "Should we talk about it? So this doesn't happen again?" He moved into the office and sat down on the opposite side of the desk.
"I am tired Mycroft. Tired already. Maybe this was a mistake. One big bloody mistake. It is like John expects all these things from me and I'm trying to humor him, but I just end up annoyed and frustrated." Sherlock shrugged again, took out another cigarette and began smoking a second one as soon as the first one was snuffed out.
Of course he wanted to ask if Sherlock had even talked to John but he knew the answer. "Sherlock," Mycroft studied his younger brother intently. "Tell him. Not that you think it is a mistake, God no..." He watched the cigarette and sighed. "Tell him that you don't want to sleep, don't want to eat." He shrugged. "Marriage is all about communication, dear brother, and you can't just think that because you are wearing that ring it stops. Before you two were married you communicated the best you could. Just keep doing that."
"The only thing that happens when we 'communicate' is a fight. In fact just before coming down to breakfast we almost got in a row." Sherlock smoked the second cigarette significantly faster than the first one. By the time he was finished speaking, he was getting ready to light up a third one. He hadn't realized how stressed he was until now.
Mycroft watched his brother with a grimace. Three cigarettes. Not good. He didn't want to say it but he was worried that the two getting married might have been a bad idea. "I think you need to sit down and talk to him, Sherlock. You need to tell him that you don't want to eat or sleep regularly just because you are married.'"
Sherlock thoughtfully smoked his third cigarette before replying. "I just want to make him happy. He has been through so much shit lately..." He trailed off with a shrug. "But trying to make him happy is making me miserable. I should have never got married Mycroft. I can try and pretend that domestic life suits me, but clearly it doesn't..."
"Find a middle ground?" Mycroft proposed softly. "I know how much he likes just being with you. You don't have to sleep but let him be with you at night. Just tell him you aren't going to sleep," he muttered. It felt like somebody had filled his veins with ice water. That was something he didn't want to hear. "And you think domestic life suits him? An ex-soldier with the worst post traumatic stress I have seen in years? This isn't easy for him either, Sherlock. But he loves you and he wanted to prove it."
Prove it. Were the words going to haunt him forever? Sherlock dropped his head, the cigarette hanging loosely from his mouth. He was quiet a long moment. He removed the cigarette before speaking, but didn't lift his head. "John told me he wanted me to prove to him I loved him and ever since then I have been struggling to do so. But it is like nothing I do is good enough... He takes everything so damned personally."
Oh. So that was what the fight had been about when Sherlock had texted him the night before their wedding. "He knows you love him. Have you been paying attention the past few days? He just stares at you like you are the only person in the world." Mycroft watched Sherlock for a long moment. "Don't try. Don't force yourself to show him. Just... do what you were doing when your relationship started. That is the man he fell for, isn't it?"
"That's the problem Mycroft, he does that and I don't. Today before breakfast he asked me if I sit in wonder when I look at little Sandi. I don't. You should have seen his face, the way he looked at me for the longest time…" Sherlock trailed off and promptly lit up a fourth cigarette, inhaling it deeply as soon as it was between his lips.
Normal things. Things that Sherlock Holmes never did and had never considered. "Do you love him?" Mycroft asked softly. "When you see him, do you think you couldn't live without him?" Because he knew his younger brother did. Sherlock just didn't understand it.
"That's a stupid question," Sherlock muttered. Of course he loved John. He smoked in silence after that for a little while. "Honestly, I can't imagine my life without him. The instant he stepped into my life, I knew. I'm not saying I loved him right then and there, but I knew my life was going to change. For a little while, it was almost like having a pet. He thought I was fantastic, brilliant. Hell, he still does. When everyone else called me a 'freak' or thought me just plan crazy, he never saw that. Not once…"
"Guess what? That's all that matters. Don't sit around trying to think about how you can prove it, Sherlock. Just... do it." Mycroft stood up slowly. "But do it just like you would. Just like Sherlock Holmes." He leaned over the desk and snatched up the pack of cigarettes. "Also, have him buy you some nicotine patches."
"Better than doing heroin." Sherlock finished what was apparently his last cigarette. "They gave it to me you know…while John and I were being held captive. Two years and I was clean. The drug withdrawal was awful, worse than last time. I still want it every now and then." He shrugged, got up and left the room. Too much sharing for his liking. He walked back to the dining room. "Come on John, let's go home."
Mycroft was about to open his mouth but his younger brother had already left the room. Drugs. John. Maybe Sherlock wasn't doing as well as he would like to think.
John shifted slightly in his chair to look at his husband, his eyebrows furrowing for a moment. "Okay." He stood slowly and held Amy against his chest. "Thank you, Nancy. For everything." He moved toward Sherlock and smiled warmly.
Sherlock looked over to his mother. "Yes Mum. It was lovely, thank you." Now he just wanted to go back to the flat. Maybe things would make sense again once he got back home.
Nancy came over and hugged her youngest son. "Sherlock! Have you been smoking? You are just like your father."
Sherlock returned the hug but when the embrace ended he tensed at being compared to the Old Man. Yep, definitely time to go.
John watched the two hesitantly before shifting Amy comfortably into his left arm and grabbing Sherlock's hand. "C'mon," he whispered as he squeezed Sherlock's hand. "Let's go home." He stood on his toes and placed a kiss on his husband's cheek. Maybe things would get better, Sherlock wouldn't be so tense. Everything would be fine.
Sherlock nodded and led John out of the manor. There was a black car waiting outside and the servants were in the process of finish loading it up. He opened the door for his husband and daughter and then went around the car and got in on the other side. He slumped inside of it, still craving a nicotine fix, despite having just smoked four cigarettes.
"Want me to go buy you a pack?" John asked softly, rocking Amy in his arms. As much as he disliked smoking he wanted his husband to be happy. If it meant a bad habit, he would live with it. "I bet we could get wonderful cigarettes in Italy."
Sherlock glanced up at John and smiled. "No. Maybe some patches though. I was doing so well, really shouldn't start up again." If he could kick heroin, twice, he could quit damn cigarettes. It wouldn't be good for the baby. He had a family now. He needed to stop thinking only of himself. Stop being so selfish.
John smiled softly and gazed proudly at his husband. "Okay. I can do that." He watched as London passed through the window of the car. Home. A place where his family was. "I'm so glad I married you," he whispered, keeping his gaze locked out the window. When the car slid to a stop in front of 221B he relaxed.
Sherlock got out and once more opened the door for John and little Sandi. He followed them up the stairs. Once he was inside, he slumped down into his chair. Hopefully things would sort themselves out between he and his husband. Maybe the honeymoon would help smooth things over. It was nice to be back at the flat, away from the stress of his childhood.