Chapter 9

Sleeping with Sherlock only happened in the most literal meaning of the word, no matter how often Mrs. Hudson came up with excuses to come by early in the morning hoping to catch them out. It wasn't meant to be a permanent arrangement. John had allowed that Harry needed his own room and Sherlock had pointed out that some level of deception concerning their marriage had to be upheld in case of social workers. Then Sherlock had agreed to rent out 221c and it was perfectly reasonable to think that the bedroom in that flat could be used. Except it wasn't as comfortable a room as Sherlock's and both men were busy with having a new child and somehow two months went by and Sherlock was no longer sleeping on the sofa and John was still not in his own room.

And it was fine. It was all fine. John liked this new family he had found himself a part of, he truly did. Somehow, with the arrival of a single boy he found himself a father (or at least father-figure), husband (more like father to a second, older child who stole the covers), surrogate son to a woman who was not their housekeeper, and brother-in-law.

The fact that he had not entirely, actually agreed to being a part of this family wasn't really relevant, because at this point if they had suddenly decided to send him away they'd have had a major fight on their hands. The truth was he had somehow become a part of Sherlock's family the moment he agreed to room with him; the arrival of Harry had only made it all more official. And he did love Harry. And Sherlock, though not in the husband sense. And Mrs. Hudson. And he…tolerated Mycroft. Having them all was truly brilliant, even if it was not where he thought he'd be at this time in his life. In many ways, it was better.

All of these truths did not change the fact that John liked sex. Sex with women. And sex was one thing he was most certainly not getting from his 'husband'.

Having a husband made talking with women rather difficult; not least because John wasn't entirely sure himself of the moral implications of cheating on a marriage in which he had made no promises and had no romantic ties. He didn't exactly have Sherlock's permission to sleep with other women, but then, Sherlock, or Mycroft rather, had never gotten John's permission to marry him in the first place. Morally speaking, John couldn't help but feel he still had the higher ground; it wasn't like he had ever agreed to spend the rest of his life celibate at Sherlock's side.

But then there was the fact that John really had devoted himself to his family. It wasn't a conscious decision; he hadn't ever sat down and thought it through and said that he had a family now and that was that. But somewhere along the way, probably shortly after Mycroft had officially named John as guardian, John had accepted the role thrust upon him. Any dating he did manage was doomed to be a casual fling or one night stand, and truthfully John wasn't comfortable with that as a long term solution. It didn't seem fair for the women and there were too many risk involved in casual sex, ranging from the usual STDs to one of Sherlock's enemies finding out about his activities, or simply the complications that could ensue with social services. There were a million reasons against John going out and picking up women.

But damn it, he wanted sex.

And then there was Sarah. He was no longer working for her or dating her, but they had still kept in touch. So when she contacted him suddenly, asking him to meet her for lunch, his common sense told him that this was a casual affair between friends during which they would catch up. After all, it had been a while. Other parts of his anatomy wanted to ignore common sense and suggest that the reasons it hadn't worked between them couldn't be all that bad and perhaps lunch could lead to something more.

Whatever his hopes in walking into the small diner, however, it was soon obvious that Sarah wasn't on the same page. For one, she seemed to both at once be trying to dissect him with her eyes and avoid looking at him completely, and not in the flirty staring through her eyelashes kind of way. It felt awkward.

"So…" she said, after John's brief and slightly pathetic attempt at small talk, asking her what she'd been up to, "Shannon tells me you're married. To Sherlock."

"Oh." John didn't know what else to say. This was true…and yet in all the important ways very much not true…and whatever hope he had had, however ridiculous and small, was shriveling up into nothing.

She still wasn't looking at him, her movements agitated and her face frozen into a polite smile as though to show how completely fine with this bit of information she was.

"And I'm happy for you, really, I am, I could see it, you know, the looks, the…I'm sure you're perfect together…"

"Sarah…Sarah," John said while she talked trying to get her to stop talking, to listen, to look at him, "Sarah!"

That did it. She was silent, her eyes turning upon him so full of something that it made him ache.

"Sarah," he said, his voice soft and gentle now that she was finally listening, "We aren't…it's not…it's just a piece of paper. I still like women, Sherlock still likes…no one, as far as I can tell."

She was still staring, her eyes wide and vulnerable. "Then why…?"

"It's, well…because of Harry." She continued to stare, her face filled with confusion.

"Because of…Harry?" she asked, frowning now.

"Yes!" John answered, pleased she finally seemed to be listening.

"You decided to form a partnership with a man as…as what…solidarity, for your gay sister?"

"Ye…wait no, no no no no no."

"Then what, John, because you're really not making any sense."

"Because of Harry Potter. He's Sherlock's cousin…his four year old cousin, and Harry's parents are dead and his aunt and uncle had him but they were rotten people and now Sherlock has him and Harry needed a family and I don't even know how but now I'm his family and he calls me Uncle John and now I can't leave and I'm his guardian and for that to work I had to be Sherlock's partner because, well, legal reasons."

It spewed forth in one long breath, and Sarah was still staring. John's phone beeped. Sarah was still staring. John's phone felt like it was burning a hole in his pocket; the urge to take it out and read the message, to perhaps escape this awkward conversation, was so strong that his fingers twitched. He resisted.

"So you have a son?" Sarah said at last. "You and Sherlock have a son."

"Did I never mention?" John asked. Had it really been that long since he and Sarah had talked? That she wouldn't know about Harry or Sherlock? His phone beeped again. "I…have pictures?" He pulled the phone out at last.

-Need more finger paint. And milk. Please.

"Oh god." He did not want to know. Quickly, or as quickly as he was able, he opened the list of pictures.

"See, this is Harry," he said, valiantly ignoring Sarah's shell shocked expression and the beep that told him he had another message. Sarah accepted the phone, looking closely at the little boy clutching a toy rabbit with a shy smile on his face.

"And you say he's Sherlock's…cousin?" she asked as she scrolled through images while John desperately tried to remember if there were any pictures on there he didn't want her to see. There was a surprising number of photos to consider, mostly because John wanted proof when anyone questioned Sherlock's ability to act fatherly towards a child. At the very least, they proved that the two interacted in an amicable way. The familial resemblance was also obvious, as Sarah had noted.

"Something about a son no one knew about and Sherlock's mother," John explained briefly, knowing perfectly well what Sarah was implying and ignoring it.

"And they've made you into his father?" she asked. The phone beeped again.

"I…should check that."

-What gets red and blue out of silk?

"Oh god." This time, Sarah leaned over him to read the message. She gave him a raised eyebrow.

"Finger paint experiment, apparently," he told her. She looked thoughtful.

"I've heard chloroform is good for removing paint."

"Definitely not telling him that," John answered.

The rest of lunch turned out surprisingly pleasant. John still didn't get to have sex.

Author's Note: Basically, I've had half of this written for about a month now as it refused to develop itself. And it's still being stubbornly slow about being written. So…just to show you this story isn't abandoned and that I am working on it…I've decided to post what I have so far and call it a two-parter. You'll find out Sherlock and Harry's side of that text messaging in the next bit. I'm hoping it won't take months again to get it out, but no promises as real life is kind of busy of late.