John never thought this would happen to him, not ever.
He had adopted a girl with his friend and flatmate, Sherlock Holmes. The two of them were fathers now. The idea seemed so ridiculous that John had to repeat it over and over in his head to make sure that he wasn't dreaming. He had adopted with the craziest but best man he had ever known. The lingering idea that he and Sherlock could be 'fathers' in every sense of the word made John even more giddy and incredulous of his situation than ever. Their fleeting glances, moments of comfort, childlike bouts of fun with Felicity, it had all been building up to something, and John wasn't sure what the conclusion would be. The fact that everyone, including CPS seemed to think that he and Sherlock were a couple didn't help John to think clearly either. The two of them had never addressed the feelings they'd had when Felicity stayed with them, and CPS' suspicions had brought those thoughts back up to the forefront of John's mind.
He looked down at the girl currently curled against him, her face buried into his jumper. Felicity had cried like he had never seen anyone cry before. The sorrow that had come out of every pore on her body was unsettling and made John grieve along with her. Charley had been a good man and had died far too young. He had deserved so much better in life; more time with his sister, more time with his parents, and more time free from the strains of raising his baby sister by himself. John felt a bit like a traitor trying to replace the gaping hole in Felicity that Charley's death had left, but he knew that he and Sherlock were the best people to fill it. Perhaps their love for Felicity and for each othercould help her remember and yet move on. When Felicity had fallen asleep clutched to him, it was obvious that John wasn't going to be going anywhere for a while. Even though Felicity had begged both the doctor and the detective to stay with her, life was still going on. Things still needed to be sorted- and that meant that Sherlock had to leave. John could see on his face how it hurt him to leave, but Sherlock had left all the same, determined to try and fix everything, to try and make it right.
As the two of them had lain on Sherlock's bed, Felicity in the middle, unspoken thoughts were agreed upon as the two men looked at each other over their now mutual burden. It was clear that until Felicity was stronger, there would be no cases, no criminals, and no danger. The two of them had to be there for Felicity until she didn't need them constantly by her side. The decision to adopt her had been instant, no going back, and Sherlock and John had barely spoken about it. Now that the actual deed was done, it was clear that both of them would have to sacrifice a lot to give Felicity the support she needed. John couldn't help but wonder as he stared at Sherlock if the two of them could handle such a task. Their week with Felicity all those years ago had been effortless, simple, but things were different now. Also, something other than Felicity lay unresolved between them. Despite their worry for Felicity's obvious suffering, a bit of tension still bristled in the air. John and Sherlock had never lay on the same bed and simply stared at each other. The effect was maddening. John had followed the curls lying on Sherlock's forehead, studied Sherlock's perfect lips, and stared into his icy grey eyes without suspicion. Likewise, Sherlock's eyes followed the contours of John's body, stared into his blue orbs, and without a doubt lingered on the doctor's hands, gentle yet capable, as they stroked Felicity's hair comfortingly. With Felicity in mind, it was clear that they would have to lie low for a while, allowing Mycroft to send people out to run their errands for them until the press stopped bleating on about Sherlock and fueling the fire with ridiculous speculation. Finally, the threat of Sebastian Moran, out there somewhere, seemed to hang over the two men closer than ever. When Felicity had gone to make them tea after their reunion, Sherlock had made it a point to mention that he was back in London to finish what he had been working on for the past three years and that he needed John's help to take down the sniper. John had agreed, obviously, but now that he and Sherlock were thrown into parenthood, the need to eliminate Sherlock's last threat seemed all the more urgent.
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It took Felicity a while to realize that she was conscious. Strange sensations were catalogued and noted dutifully in her brain, even though they didn't make sense. A large, comfy bed. Two strong, short arms wrapped around her, holding her close. Comforting wool pressing against her cheek. The smell of tea. Above it all, the horrible, suffocating grief she'd managed to escape with sleep was hanging over her, urging her to roll back over and wallow in misery. The only thing her brilliant mind could compute solidly was that Charley was dead and she was alone. That thought in mind, Felicity curled in on herself, hiding her face from who she realized was John lying next to her. "Hey, it's ok," His voice was soft as a kiss was planted on her head, a hand stroked her hair.
"He promised me he'd come back," Felicity found herself choking out, wishing that she would simply tear herself apart and cease to exist. So far in her short life, everyone she had ever loved had died; first her parents, then Sherlock, and now Charley, the one person she had trusted and loved through it all. He was her other half and without him she was nothing. "He said it, said, 'I will come back' and he's not, not ever-" Hysteria raced up Felicity's throat, choking her, and John kept her close as she cried.
"Shh," he'd whisper every once and a while, mindlessly stroking her hair. It was all John could do for besides being physically next to her, and it made him feel angry to be so useless. Once Felicity had retreated back into her numbness, spent from crying, John figured it was time to act. The only reason Sherlock wasn't there was because someone had to continue to make funeral arrangements. The whole process was continuing to be difficult, especially now that it was quite obvious that 'boffin' Sherlock Holmes was still very much alive and very much a genius. Suddenly everyone and their mum wanted to know about Sherlock, John, and their recent adoption. John had also asked Sherlock to get some tea brewing- and that had been only minutes ago. The tea was originally planned for just John and Sherlock, but now that Felicity was awake, John wanted to get food and fluid into her. She'd looked positively gaunt at the adoption meeting and with the shock her body was going through Felicity needed fuel. "Felicity, let's get some tea into you," John half requested, half insisted, rubbing her back.
Felicity flinched but acquiesced, sitting up and crawling out of Sherlock's bed. Her hair was tame despite the lack of braids holding it down, and its lack of ferocity and rebelliousness stabbed at John's heart. He guided her out of the room and down the hallway, almost reaching the kitchen when he saw something odd out of the corner of his eye. As they passed the bathroom, he saw a dark splotch in the mirror, making him balk and squint, trying to identify it. He could see himself and then Felicity at his side. She was staring blankly ahead, but he could see on her profile that the dark splotch seemed to be staining her skin. "Jesus, no," he swore, turning Felicity towards the light and inspecting her face, rage exploding inside him as he took in the heavy bruise darkening her left eye.
"John?" Sherlock called, hearing the loud exclamation. Felicity snapped out of her grief, realizing that her cover was blown. She had cried more than enough to wash away the makeup hiding her secret and now her black eye was on full display. "John- what's the matter?" Sherlock's voice got closer as he got up, starting to wonder if something was wrong. Felicity grimaced, trying to turn her face away from John, but the doctor took her chin, his eyes traveling over the bruise with more anger than John had ever felt in his life.
"Felicity, what happened to you?" John demanded, flipping on the bathroom light for a better visual of her injury. In the stark light, the contrast between the dark bruise and Felicity's pale skin made John even more furious.
"John, what-?" Sherlock stopped behind him, looking over his shoulder and freezing on the spot as his eyes automatically traveled to the dark bruise. Sherlock's fists clenched automatically as his urge to kill rose exponentially. Whoever had done this, whoever harmed his Felicity was going to burn. The longer he looked, the more obvious it became that her black eye was not her only injury. The way Felicity carried herself was not completely due to grief, Sherlock realized with anger so bitter he thought he would choke on it. During her week at Ruth's she'd been the victim of a gang style beating and she hadn't told a soul- she'd hidden the truth from even Sherlock and John. Their combined stares made such shame and self-hatred rise up in Felicity that she covered her face, pulling out of John's grip.
John paused, taking a much needed moment to reign his anger in before bending his knees a bit to be more at Felicity's height. He stroked the side of her face, kissed her forehead before asking, quietly, "Can I take a look at it?" He understood that Felicity must have felt so weak, so helpless after being beaten up at school just after her brother's passing. Her wrongly felt shame made him angrier than ever, but he saved that anger for the sake of helping his newly adopted daughter. Felicity shuddered briefly before lowering her hands and giving John a brief nod. "Alright, then," John prompted, and they walked into the kitchen, Sherlock practically breathing down their necks. Felicity sat on one of the bar stools, managing to hold her head up. She looked beaten down, as if the slightest breeze would blow her away. Sherlock leaned on the cabinets across from her, struggling to keep his expression somewhat calm, even though he felt anything but. Sherlock knew instinctively that the beating was the work of Wellembry, the same girl who had tried to punch Felicity when he went to break her out of Ruth's. He made a mental note to look up her family and give them hell as John came back with a warm flannel and gently placed it over Felicity's eye. She tensed slowly and then relaxed as the heat soothed the bruise. "Are you hurt anywhere else?" John asked, switching over into his calm, professional nature.
"Just a few bruises here and there. Nothing serious." Felicity said flatly. John looked at her for a moment, clearly calculating and thinking about her answer before nodding, sitting next to her with a heavy sigh.
"This was Wellembry, wasn't it?" Sherlock asked, unable to keep venom out of his voice. John sent him a warning look, but Sherlock ignored it; he only had eyes for Felicity. She had flinched imperceptibly, her eyes automatically flashing to the ground to avoid Sherlock's gaze. That alone told Sherlock all he needed to know. He was ready to get up and go for his cell phone when Felicity spoke.
"She called Charley a prick," her voice was so soft that it was barely heard. When it registered, John twitched as if to get up and Sherlock jerked upright, hands clenching onto the counter. "She called him a prick and I didn't do anything," Felicity added, sounding half confused, half devastated as she pressed the flannel tighter to her eye. "I didn't fight back at all- I just let her-" Felicity hiccupped a sob, bending over herself as the agony of her grief returned. John knelt down in front of her taking her free hand and squeezing it gently.
"Felicity, it's alright. Everyone who matters in this world knows that Charley was a good man. This bully, Wellembry, she's weak. She doesn't matter; she's pathetic enough that she needs to feed on other's pain to make her feel better about herself." John urged, trying to desperately comfort Felicity with only words.
"She is worthless." Sherlock added, still blazing with fury. He guarded his heart viciously, and Felicity was his heart. Seeing her in pain, grieving, made him beside himself because he knew that for once he wasn't able to help. Felicity said nothing, and they sat like that for the longest time before John stood up.
"You need food." He insisted with a quiet firmness. Felicity swallowed quickly and sat up straight again, passing the now cooled flannel back to John. He heated the water in the kettle back up and started some toast as Sherlock came and sat beside Felicity, slightly unsure. John knew just what to do, it seemed, for those who were grieving. On the car ride back from the Yard, Sherlock had given in to instinct, rocking Felicity on his lap and holding her close. Now he felt as if that could have been a lifetime ago. The fact that he didn't know how to comfort his own personal sun frustrated Sherlock endlessly. Luckily, he didn't have to think too much on the subject because Felicity leaned over a bit and rested against Sherlock's side and his arm came up automatically to rest around her shoulders. He rubbed her arm briskly, planting a brief kiss onto the top of her head.
"You learned piano while you were away," Sherlock mentioned, using his free hand to gently pick up one of hers, examining her fingers with a practiced eye. It was all he could to distract her, and he was very happy to notice that it worked.
"I was bored, and I remembered how you would always play the violin when you felt the same way. The school only had a piano, not a violin, so I learned that instead." Felicity shared, giving him a flicker of a smile as her gaze traveled over him. Despite the grief in her eyes, Sherlock could see her mind starting to function again as she looked at him, deducing. "You had your ear pierced," she noted, sounding surprised as her hand came up to touch Sherlock's left earlobe. True to her word, there was a small bit of scar tissue that remained from where the hole had since closed.
"It was necessary to infiltrate one of Moriarty's many rings of crime." Sherlock explained; glad to see anything other than grief on Felicity's face as she examined his ear curiously.
"Hmm," Felicity sighed, dropping her thin fingers from his ear to curl up tighter against his side. Sherlock rubbed her arm as John came over with toast and tea.
"Try to eat, even a little." John asked quietly, sitting across from them. Felicity unwillingly snuck a hand out and took a piece of toast at John's request, nibbling on it half-heartedly. They ate in silence for a moment before a brilliant idea crossed Sherlock's mind.
"We should get a piano," he said thoughtfully, and Felicity looked at him in surprise.
"Where would we put it? Never mind getting it up here," Felicity asked, and the surprise in her voice was a welcome change from the grief. Sherlock smiled internally- his plan was working, even if the affects lasted for mere moments.
"Getting it up into the flat is of little importance, and we'd put it in your room, of course," Sherlock said breezily, taking a sip of tea, giving John an inconspicuous wink at the same time. John instantly understood what he was doing and nodded at Felicity when she turned to look at him for conformation.
"My room? But that's John's room," Felicity said, confused. Beneath that, however, her mind was whirling. It had been stagnant for so long, stuck on the idea that Charley was dead, but the gears were loosening- she was starting to solve different problems, think of different things, even though in the back of her brilliant mind, the heart-breaking fact that Charley was dead remained.
"Well, John was going to move into my room," Sherlock said nonchalantly. It took Felicity only seconds to shoot out of Sherlock's grip, looking at him incredulously.
"Are…are you and John in a relationship?" She asked softly, glancing between the two men in question. Both men hesitated, looking at each other for conformation. They hadn't spoken about this yet- Sherlock saying that John was moving in with him was more of a question to John than an actual fact.
"Well…Felicity, when you were here with us for the week all those years ago, Sherlock and I began to realize that we wanted something more than friendship. When you left, things got incredibly busy. Those feelings remained however, even during the three years that Sherlock was gone. Now that he has returned, we were hoping to explore the idea of us becoming something more." John explained slowly, looking to Sherlock for conformation, receiving a brilliant smile in return. That alone made John's heart leap into his throat, but Felicity's reaction made him almost even happier.
"Really? Truly?! You two- I don't believe it!" Felicity cried, her face lighting up with such happiness and hope that it twisted at John's heartstrings. The smile on her face revealed that the sunny demeanor Felicity naturally wore was not gone- just buried. Her expression cut away through her grief and even her cold shell and back down to her core. She slid out from underneath Sherlock's arm and darted around the table, hugging John tight. Over her head, John looked at Sherlock, his own smile reflected on Sherlock's face. When Felicity left, the courage the two of them had in discovering what they really wanted had faded. They were like shy school children- occasionally brushing hands, sending each other glances, but neither had the courage to truly identify what they felt. Now that Felicity was back, the memories and their drive to discover was back with full force. Their own personal sun had spread the light necessary to see what they really wanted.
"Hey," John said worriedly when he felt moisture on his shirt. He pulled back to look at Felicity, sad that she was crying again. He felt a pang of despair; would Felicity ever overcome her grief?
"No, I'm fine," She insisted weakly, managing a smile at John. "I'm happy. I'm happy," she repeated, glancing at Sherlock to drive her point home. "You give me hope," she added in a quieter tone, and John tisked, hugging her close again.
"Well, then. Go on, your tea is getting cold," John said, kissing her forehead and releasing her. Felicity's smile was more ghostly as she returned back to Sherlock, taking her seat next to him once more.
"So, the piano is settled then," Sherlock reminded himself, and Felicity laughed weakly. It was hoarse and rusty, as if she hadn't laughed in years, but it was a laugh. He could remember the giggles that would pour out of her and his heart longed to return that happiness. She paused for a moment, staring into her tea blankly before taking a deep breath, then another, preparing herself for something. For what, John and Sherlock had no idea. Finally, Felicity spoke.
"Tell me what's going on. I-I need to know the state of things." Her voice was unsure, tripping over itself, but her resilience was there. John and Sherlock shared a quick glance, calculating how much they could tell Felicity. In the end, both men knew that Felicity deserved to know the truth, no matter how hurtful it may be. They knew that she could handle it.
"Charley was cremated on base and his remains are being flown back privately to England. You'll receive his ashes, his dog-tags, and his closest possessions at the funeral. All of Charley's regiment will be in attendance." Sherlock said finally, voice soft. Felicity shuddered slightly, her hands gripping her tea mug until her knuckles turned white. She squeezed her eyes shut, a few tears streaking down her face and vanishing down the collar of her shirt. She struggled to conquer her emotion; she could still grieve for Charley, but she couldn't let it control her like it had been: the need to function began to supersede her need to grieve. It was a realization very few people could come to, especially not people her age. Felicity forced herself to inhale, the sound jagged as she forcefully choked back tears.
"And when is the funeral?" When she did speak again, her voice was perfectly steady, frightfully flat, but steady.
"Tuesday afternoon." John prompted this time, feeling slightly lost. Felicity was so complex that John was again beginning to wonder if he could ever properly provide for her. He was doing all he could at the moment, and Felicity was getting better, but he wanted to give her so much more.
"And what day is it?" Felicity asked, her voice more strained this time.
"It's late evening on Saturday." John said, glancing at the clock. He'd lost all track of time laying on his bed with Felicity and thinking about his possible relationship with Sherlock, his want to help Felicity, and the idea of Sebastian Moran still hanging above them all.
"Two days," Felicity said to herself almost miserably, taking a sip of her tea. "What am I going to do for two days?"
"No matter what you decide we will be here for you." Sherlock promised, but Felicity didn't move from where she was staring sadly into her tea, wrapping herself back up into her thoughts. Only when John started to clear away their dishes to do the washing up did Felicity stir.
"I should clean up," she said listlessly, slowly letting go of her now cold mug of tea and standing up. She silently passed the mug to John so that he could clean it with the rest of the dishes before padding out of the kitchen. As soon as the pipes groaned and water started running in the shower, Sherlock spoke.
"She's so unhappy John. What can I do? What can we do?" He asked agitatedly, letting his true worry shine once Felicity wasn't around to see it. As a Holmes, Sherlock had been taught to hide your true emotions since he could contemplate the concept (so, of course, from a very early age). It was second nature to him, making it even harder for him to offer Felicity good advice on not doing the same thing. Understanding how and why emotion played such a large role in Felicity's life was almost impossible for him.
"Nothing, Sherlock. I know that's frustrating, but Felicity might be a bit solitary for a while. We both know that she'll talk when she's ready." John sighed, stacking clean dishes up on the drain-board. There was a moment of silence as John finished the dishes and dried his hands, watching Sherlock from where the detective was watching him from across the kitchen. The longer they stared at each other, the more tension built in the air until gooseflesh was breaking out across John's skin and Sherlock had to do something as mundane as reminding himself to breathe evenly. Before his thoughts could catch up with his actions, Sherlock crossed the kitchen in three strides and stopped in front of John, standing close enough to feel the other man's gentle breath on his face. He wanted to step just a bit closer to press his body onto every inch of John he could reach, but Sherlock, having never felt this way about anyone in his life, didn't know how to take those next crucial steps. "Sherlock," John breathed, his eyes darting from Sherlock's gaze to his lips and then back up again.
Sherlock cleared his throat before managing, "I would very much like to kiss you, John, but due to my inexperience-!"
Before he could finish John grabbed his collar and pulled Sherlock down to a better angle before pressing his lips to his. For both men, the kiss was unlike anything they had ever experienced. For John, who had been with partners of both sexes, no kiss compared to this one, knowing that the man he was kissing was so brilliantly unique that no one else could come close to his beauty. Sherlock had no idea what he was doing, that was true, but even with that in mind the kiss was still incredible. For Sherlock, who had never been kissed before, the gentle pressure from John's lips completely silenced the ongoing buzz of deductions and thoughts in his head and sent a warm shock down to lower parts of his body. The detective's surprise at being kissed so suddenly gave John the perfect opportunity to completely ravish him without having to fight for dominance; he nipped at Sherlock's lower lip and ran his tongue along it in such an excruciatingly slow manner that Sherlock actually whimpered, his large, elegant hands drifting up to rest on John's shoulder and to clench into his hair. Sherlock pinned him to the cabinetry, his need suddenly very apparent as every inch of him pressed against the doctor. John took pity on him and slipped his tongue into Sherlock's mouth.
For someone with so little experience, Sherlock picked up the finer points of kissing very quickly until John was glad that he was pinned; his legs were slowly turning to jelly as they kissed feverishly, finally expressing all of their pent up frustrations and curiosities. After what seemed like an eternity, John broke away for air, trailing kisses down Sherlock's elegant neck instead, kissing his Adam's apple, his pulse point, each tendon as they stood out in relief from Sherlock's skin as the detective threw his head back unashamedly, lost in the sensation. Normally, he would be unable to help himself from noting every scientific sign that he was aroused; his more frantic breathing, his increased pulse, and, of course, his rapidly increasing erection, but Sherlock's mind was blissfully blank. Still exploring, John undid a few buttons of Sherlock's shirt to find his collarbones, nipping gently here and there until Sherlock was gasping, holding onto John's waist for support. As a doctor, John knew the scientific name for every inch of the human body; he could tell you the name of every muscle he was running his lips over, and he was using that information to his advantage. He knew where all of the most sensitive areas were and it wouldn't take him long to find Sherlock's most intense spots. Unable to resist, John bit down harder on the edge of Sherlock's collarbone, leaving a hickey that was sure to last for days before he finally pulled away.
It took Sherlock a moment to realize that John had stopped. He was so dazed from John's hidden talents that he had to reboot his mind so that he could think clearly again. When he did, and when his vision cleared, the look on John's face shot dull throbs down to Sherlock's erection. The doctor was watching him with eyes blown wide with lust, his eyes wandering over Sherlock's smooth skin, finally exposed for his viewing pleasure. John's own healthy erection was pressing urgently against Sherlock's, but the detective could tell that John had stopped for just that reason. Now was not the time to keep going- Felicity was just down the hall and would be finishing her shower soon. As the memories of his flatmate's talented lips began to fade, logic took its place; Sherlock's priorities (besides sex) came back, all clamoring for his attention. "Later?" he asked, hoping that John would accept the invitation to one day (whenever that day was) finish what they had started.
"Later," John promised, his voice so husky it nearly made Sherlock kiss him all over again. It took all of his self-restraint to take a step back from John, buttoning his shirt back up reluctantly. "But that doesn't mean that we can't display some affection- Felicity isn't stupid and she isn't that much of a child anymore. She can handle a peck here and there," John continued, flattening his hair with an edge of nervousness as his rash actions started to linger in his brain. The devilish grin Sherlock sent him in response to his idea clearly said that Sherlock was in agreement with him. He took a step closer to John again, but the water in the pipes shut off, signaling that Felicity was done with her shower and their time alone was finished. Holding back his longing, Sherlock leaned forward and planted a lingering kiss on John's temple before forcing himself to pull away. His impatience to fully explore John, to know every nook and cranny was almost overpowering, but his duty to protect Felicity when she was at her weakest remained- and that was one burden Sherlock was more than willing to bear.
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A/N: OK OK OK guys I had to update this as soon as I wrote it because holy FUCK I have no idea where this came from and I hope it's ok and not too creepy and romantic and...(one moment, hyperventilating) wonderful! I hope you enjoyed it, even though it's a bit short. My updates are getting shorter and I don't like that at all but if you guys are happy than I definitely am. So, YES! Do you remember way back in oh, I don't know, Chapter 5 maybe where I asked, "Does anyone mind johnlock?". I'm so freaking stupid and late on that promise but I gave it to you! I hope you like it!
ALSO- guess what! I asked one of my friends on Tumblr (her URL is charlyvonkarma if you are interested) to do a commission for me and she said YES! If you look at the image for this story, that's the art she made me! I'm ridiculously excited over it and I love it so so so SO SO much. :D You can find a bigger version under the links on my Profile if you like. A BIG THANK YOU TO CHARLYVONKARMA I LOVE IT SO MUCH!
Those of you who review make me super happy, so thank you so much to all of you.
Finally, louisuperwholocked on Tumblr is the best beta and online friend I've ever had and I can never thank her enough.