A week had gone by since Hamish was first brought home to 221B. Since then, Lestrade had reported that the baby did not have any living relatives, Mrs. Hudson had supplied them with a crib left by an old tenant, and John and Sherlock had both grown closer to the baby and each other. Although Sherlock might not ever admit it. John and Sherlock had also taken to sleeping in the same room, since they only had one baby monitor. Even though Sherlock promised he would help, he rarely took care of Hamish when he cried at night, which was luckily not too often, so that responsibility was left to John.
They had found out that Hamish was just under six months old, his birthday was November 19th, and that his real name was Rupert Thomas Brimble, and they were happy to have changed it to Hamish Alexander Holmes. John let Sherlock give Hamish his last name, since it was thanks to his convincing that they had the child. They were currently filing all the required paperwork to make the adoption and name change official. Still, despite how well things were going, something had been bothering John quite a bit. He had a little trouble putting his finger on it, but there was something about sharing the experience of caring for a child with Sherlock that made him uneasy. Not that he didn't like it, he truly enjoyed the time spent with his flatmate. There was just... something missing. John was afraid that he did know what that something was and he just couldn't yet come to terms with it. But occasionally his mind betrayed him with images of him and Sherlock. Dreams, even during the day, about their future together. Unfortunately, he didn't have much time to think it over any further as Hamish began to cry over the baby monitor. John peeled himself up off the sofa, dragging his feet all the way to Hamish's room.

Although the crying had woken Sherlock, he couldn't be bothered to get up, not that John expected him to. He did, however, open his eyes slightly to peek at John as he walked back into the room, holding Hamish. Sherlock loved to observe John, especially when John was not aware. True, he loved to observe everything, but when he was watching John it was slightly different. He could feel a fondness growing warm in his chest every time he saw John smile down at Hamish. He was sure he'd never admit it, though.
Well, perhaps not entirely sure... Previously he had tried to ignore his affection for John, but in light of recent events, it had become the most prevalent thing on his mind. Surely anyone in a similar situation would also begin to fancy one another. He had to admit, it wasn't the first time he'd felt this way, but it certainly was the strongest he'd ever felt it. Irene Addler did hold some of his affection, but not a quarter as much as John now had. He could tell, of course, that his love (he shuddered at the thought, it really is a dreadful thing) was not unrequited. John obviously had feelings for Sherlock, but neither was sure exactly how much. Sherlock had noticed the physical signs straight away. Pupils dilated, pulse increased, and the slight blush he got just across his nose and cheeks. It really was adorable to see him blush. The biggest problem was whether John would realize his feelings or not. They were there, Sherlock was positive, but whether or not John learned to accept them was its own problem. He had always been accepting of homosexuality, but very clear that he wasn't. If only he could see it more as the spectrum that it was instead of black and white.

"Sherlock? I know you're up. You're bloody obvious, you know," John whispered.
"Had it occurred to you I was not attempting to hide it?" Sherlock sat up in his bed, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked John up and down, examining and re-examining him as he so often did.
"What?" John inquired.
"Nothing."
John sighed. All was quiet for a few moments, but not to the point of awkwardness. "I'm actually really glad this all happened. You, Hamish, it all feels... Well, it's like finally being home after a long vacation."
Sherlock raised his eyebrows at this confession, trying hard (and failing) to keep the smile off his face. He was lucky it was fairly dark, otherwise John would see him blushing. He hesitantly got up to sit down on the couch next to John, leaning close to him. You know, in order to see the baby.. Well, that was the excuse he had ready.
"You're not going to say anything?"
"About?"
"You're impossible."
"I'm here, am I not? That should be answer enough."
John smiled and inadvertently rested slightly against Sherlock. Blimey, Sherlock was a sight to behold. Perfectly tousled hair, his lanky upper body in a white sleep shirt, his eyes tired. The word flawless came to mind, and John chuckled at the inaccuracy. Sherlock was something alright, but it was far from flawless. He was hard-headed, arrogant, frustrating, impolite.. The list goes on and on. Oddly enough, it was these quirks and faults that John had really grown to love.

Love?

John's breath caught in his throat for a moment as all of the feelings that had been lingering at the edge of his psyche suddenly burst to the forefront of his mind. There would be no more denying his feelings after this epiphany, he knew. Now he just had to focus on hiding them. At least until he had more time to sort through them and make a decision. Being a military man, he had a habit of approaching everything strategically.

"Well, I'll be getting back to bed then." Sherlock announced, smirking. John really was an open book, whether he knew it or not.
"That's probably for the best. Hamish is already growing out of these clothes. Tomorrow I was thinking we could go out and find some more. So, uh, y'know, make sure to wake up in time."
"Why would I need to accompany you to do such a menial errand?"
"I just thought you might-"
"Thought? I seriously doubt that you did. Good night, John," and with that their conversation was over.