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Description
John walks into the kitchen finally building up the resolve to ask Sherlock. He needed a favour. Unfortunately it involved other people and, well, Sherlock and society struggle to get along.
“What is it John? You’ve been jittery for hours.” He mutters staring intently at the pipette in his hand.
“I need you to do me a favour.”
“I got milk already.”
“No, not that, an actual favour.” John folds his arms over the army green jacket of his. Sherlock frowns and carelessly tosses the pipette into a spare dish.
“How is getting milk not a favour?” He looked quite shocked.
“That’s an expectation, but I’m not fighting you on this right now Sherlock, I need you to babysit for me.”
“When did you become a parent?”
“He’s not mine, he’s (y/n)’s” John watches Sherlock trying to gauge his reaction.
“Well, then I’d be doing (y/n) a favour and you know how I feel about her currently.” Sherlock grumbles. John rolls his eyes.
“How was she to know you were studying the ants on the sidewalk?”
“I was clearly watching them from the window. She’s so unobservant.”
“Don’t be mean. It wasn’t on purpose.” John sighs, “Look, I want to take her out somewhere nice and have it just be the two of us. I love Joseph but I want a night alone with her.”
“Joseph?”
“Her kid. The one you’re babysitting, in four hours.”
Sherlock blinks up at John who was pleading slightly, he really wanted this to work. “You really love this one?”
“Not even you could find enough flaws to make me not love her.”
“Is that a challenge?”
“No, Sherlock.”
“Fine. I’ll babysit the kid.”
John smiles, “Thank you Sherlock. I don’t know how to repay you.”
“Get some milk, I didn’t get any when I said I did.” Sherlock turns back to his microscope. John looks at his mug in horror.
“What did I put in my tea then?”
“Calcide, I presume.”
“Oh.”
John tips the mug out quickly.

***

There was a knock on the door. Sherlock was moping on the couch midway between his mind palace and a nap. “John.” He called as the door knocked again.
“You get it for once.” He replied walking out of his bedroom and into the bathroom with a toothbrush sticking out lopsidedly from the side of his mouth.
Sherlock huffs and rolls upwards into a standing position. He readjusts his robe, steps over the coffee table and turns to the door regarding it with suspicion. He opens it quickly and steps back watching the two newest arrivals.
One, the girl, was dressed well and looking subtly beautiful in Sherlock’s mind, the other stood grumpily next to his mother in his blue rocket ship flannelette pyjamas. His arms were crossed and he glared up at Sherlock stubbornly. Sherlock met his gaze.
“Joseph.”
“Sherlock.” He replied.
“I like your pyjamas.”
“I like your sleeping gown.”
Pause.
“We can be friends.” Sherlock informs you taking Joseph by the hand and walking into the flat where they then separated and flopped into their respective chairs. Sherlock in his, Joseph in Johns. You shake your head and looked around in search of John.
“Five minutes.” Sherlock mutters pulling his laptop towards him.
“Thanks.” You reply, “You going to be good for Mr Holmes, Jo?”
“He’ll be fine, y/n, we’ll just hang about and play cluedo.” He shrugs, Joseph was cuddled up into the chair almost asleep. Footsteps trudge in and John appears.
“No cluedo, Sherlock.” He warns grabbing the jacket on the kitchen chair and making his way over to the lounge room.
“What? Why not?”
“It’s got a dagger in it for a reason.” John ignores Sherlock’s next moody grumble and makes his way over to you. His eyes light up and the smile on his face isn’t controllable. “Hello there.”
He welcomes you with a kiss on your cheek and grips your hand. “Hi John.” In the background Sherlock’s impatience was growing.
“Yes you’re all dewy eyed, now go. You’re going to miss your reservation.” He waves at them from the chair.
“Be good Sherlock.” John warns.
“Joseph will look after him.” You assure receiving a frown from the detective.
“I know.” John leads you out of 221b, closing the door behind you. He doesn’t drop your hand until he reaches the restaurant.

***

“I’m bored.”
“What?”
“B-O-R-D” Joseph spells.
“It’s B-O-R-E-D actually.” Sherlock says. The boy huffs before jumping up and examining the room. He wanders over to the fireplace and looks up the chimney. “I wouldn’t do that, there’s monsters in there.”
“Cool.” Joseph replies stepping into the soot, “they’d be more fun than you are.”
“More fun?” Sherlock chuckles, “And I suppose you and John have fun pretending to be superheros?”
“Much more fun.” Joseph begins to continue his exploration now treading sooty prints all over the carpet. He reaches the kitchen and goes instantly for the fridge. Sherlock smiles knowingly. “AH! WHAT IS THAT?”
“It’s a head.” The poor boy runs into the lounge room with wide eyes. “It’s human, kind of old, decapitated by the Turkish Militia and I was sent it as a present.”
“WHO WOULD WANT A HEAD FOR A PRESENT?” Joseph yells, terror clearly evident on his face. There were tears forming. “Is my mum on a date with a murderer right now? Do you kill people?!”
“Well,” Sherlock shrugs, “I have killed people. John too. Although he’s saved more lives than he taken.”
That was enough for Joseph. He needed to save his mum. He needed to save you, escape the evil lair of Sherlock and find the restaurant you were in. He took off, bolting down the stairs and into the dark London night in just his blue rocket flannelette pyjamas.
Sherlock watches him run off from the window.

“Whoops.”

***

John, I’ve done something.
-SH

Go away Sherlock.
-JW

You should probably know though.
-SH

Is Joseph OK
-JW

I think so.
-SH

I think so?
-JW

He may have run off in tears.
-SH

Not my fault he found the head in the fridge.
-SH

John?
-SH

I did bad, didn’t I?
-SH

I’ll go have a look for him.
-SH

Did you lose John’s kid or something?
-GL

He ran from me, not my fault.
-SH

Find the boy. Now.
-GL

Sherlock throws his phone into the pockets on his dressing gown and heads downstairs. “Mrs Hudson, I’m heading out.”
“You don’t need to announce yourself dear.” She replies, Sherlock smirks as he exits.

***

“He’s what?” You ask, eyes wide. Panic thumping your chest. Pain and terror mixed into one.
“Run away from Sherlock. We… we need to go.” He sighs placing cash on the table and leaving with you trailing behind in one smooth movement.
“Where the hell could he have gone?” You mutter furiously hopping into an incoming taxi and griping the handle as hard as you possibly good.
“I’m so sorry, y/n” John says looking at you with guilty eyes.
“Let’s just find him first.”

***

“Jesus Sherlock, did you find him?” John and you jog over to the man standing by an abandoned alley with his hands in his pockets.
“He’s down there, apparently he won’t come out for me because I’m murderer.” Sherlock huffs, his scarf tight around his neck. You push forward into the alley but someone holds you back.
“Let me go, y/n, I want to know he can trust me.” You look back a John who looked so calm and sincere. He was always like that when he was scared himself. He was scared that Joseph would be so terrified of him that he wouldn’t be able to see y/n again. To have them both in his life. Your heart melts for this man, so willing and ready to help anything revolving you. It took all your strength to resist hugging him.
“Okay.” You nod.
John squeezes your hand comfortingly before heading into the alley. Twenty paces down he spots two tide eyes in the dark.
“Jo?”
“Stay there John!” He yells teary eyed and disappointed. He had been sobbing for a while now. John faced him from the opposite side of the alley and knelt on the dirty floor, his good pants now muddy. “Why did you kill those people?”
“What people?”
“The ones Sherlock said you murdered?” He was shivering from the London night and sniffling after every breath. John was worried about hypothermia.
“I’ve never killed a good man.” John whispered.
“But you’ve killed people!”
“Yes. I have.” He admits. “They were bad people, but I shouldn’t have killed them, I know. But sometimes you have to choose between killing someone, or having them kill you.”
“Someone tried to kill you?” Joseph asks shuffling closer but not far.
“Yeah. Me, Sherlock, your mum.” He replies ridding images of you being used for Moriarty’s threat one time.
“My mum?” John nods.
“So me and Sherlock have killed bad people to keep the people we love safe.” He explains. “I’m sorry for it though. Not everyone deserved to die.”
Joseph wiped his tears with the sleave of his shirt, “So you aren’t going to kill me?”
“Why would I kill you, Jo? I love you, you’re like a son to me.” Joseph’s eyes widen.
“A son? So you’re definitely my dad now?”
“If you want me.”
Joseph laughs and runs full pelt into John’s awaiting arms. He stands leaning Joseph on his hip and returns to you.
“Joseph, how dare you run away from Mr Homes! You can’t do that! You scared the living daylights out of me!” Your stern growl melts into a soft smile.
“Sorry mum.”
“Where’s Sherlock?” John asks looking around.
“He told me that the flat was ours for the night and just wandered off.”
“Well in that case let’s go home.” John places Joseph down and re-grasps your welcoming hand. As snow begins to drift down you all reach the door of 221b.

***

Joseph was left to sleep in Sherlock’s bed that night, you tucked him in closely. Once back in the kitchen you thank John properly.
“It was nothing. Don’t worry.” He shrugged blowing into his tea.
“For once just accept my thanks.” You laugh taking his mug from him cheekily and placing it on the table. He frowns, a slight smile on his lips as he you fiddle coyly with the hem of his button-up shirt. You look up at him with bright red cheeks, at this point you couldn’t care less for embarrassment, you should have don't this ages ago.
With a flicker of realization, John had begun to lean down, his lips parted slightly and his eyes glancing from yours to your lips. You drag your hands to his neck and his surround the small of your back. You could smell the heady mixture that was John Watson and all of a sudden you were kissing him. Softly, sweetly and in a blur. His grip on you became stronger as both your bodies meld perfectly. John breaks the kiss leaving you breathless, your foreheads rest against one another.
“I’m sorry about our date.” John smiles moving his grip to your hips.
“Never mind, next time we can have it while Joseph is at school and Sherlock is busy with experiments and we have my place all to ourselves.” John’s smile widens and you giggle at his reaction.

“I like that idea very much.” He chuckles kissing you once more, promising himself never to forget the taste of your lips. “Now, come on. You’re sleeping with me, sweetheart.”

“Sweetheart?” you ask as he leads you down the hall.

“No nicknames?”

“Just not in front of Sherlock, or we’d never hear the end of it.” John chuckles and closes the door behind both of you.

Description
John walks into the kitchen finally building up the resolve to ask Sherlock. He needed a favour. Unfortunately it involved other people and, well, Sherlock and society struggle to get along.
“What is it John? You’ve been jittery for hours.” He mutters staring intently at the pipette in his hand.
“I need you to do me a favour.”
“I got milk already.”
“No, not that, an actual favour.” John folds his arms over the army green jacket of his. Sherlock frowns and carelessly tosses the pipette into a spare dish.
“How is getting milk not a favour?” He looked quite shocked.
“That’s an expectation, but I’m not fighting you on this right now Sherlock, I need you to babysit for me.”
“When did you become a parent?”
“He’s not mine, he’s (y/n)’s” John watches Sherlock trying to gauge his reaction.
“Well, then I’d be doing (y/n) a favour and you know how I feel about her currently.” Sherlock grumbles. John rolls his eyes.
“How was she to know you were studying the ants on the sidewalk?”
“I was clearly watching them from the window. She’s so unobservant.”
“Don’t be mean. It wasn’t on purpose.” John sighs, “Look, I want to take her out somewhere nice and have it just be the two of us. I love Joseph but I want a night alone with her.”
“Joseph?”
“Her kid. The one you’re babysitting, in four hours.”
Sherlock blinks up at John who was pleading slightly, he really wanted this to work. “You really love this one?”
“Not even you could find enough flaws to make me not love her.”
“Is that a challenge?”
“No, Sherlock.”
“Fine. I’ll babysit the kid.”
John smiles, “Thank you Sherlock. I don’t know how to repay you.”
“Get some milk, I didn’t get any when I said I did.” Sherlock turns back to his microscope. John looks at his mug in horror.
“What did I put in my tea then?”
“Calcide, I presume.”
“Oh.”
John tips the mug out quickly.

***

There was a knock on the door. Sherlock was moping on the couch midway between his mind palace and a nap. “John.” He called as the door knocked again.
“You get it for once.” He replied walking out of his bedroom and into the bathroom with a toothbrush sticking out lopsidedly from the side of his mouth.
Sherlock huffs and rolls upwards into a standing position. He readjusts his robe, steps over the coffee table and turns to the door regarding it with suspicion. He opens it quickly and steps back watching the two newest arrivals.
One, the girl, was dressed well and looking subtly beautiful in Sherlock’s mind, the other stood grumpily next to his mother in his blue rocket ship flannelette pyjamas. His arms were crossed and he glared up at Sherlock stubbornly. Sherlock met his gaze.
“Joseph.”
“Sherlock.” He replied.
“I like your pyjamas.”
“I like your sleeping gown.”
Pause.
“We can be friends.” Sherlock informs you taking Joseph by the hand and walking into the flat where they then separated and flopped into their respective chairs. Sherlock in his, Joseph in Johns. You shake your head and looked around in search of John.
“Five minutes.” Sherlock mutters pulling his laptop towards him.
“Thanks.” You reply, “You going to be good for Mr Holmes, Jo?”
“He’ll be fine, y/n, we’ll just hang about and play cluedo.” He shrugs, Joseph was cuddled up into the chair almost asleep. Footsteps trudge in and John appears.
“No cluedo, Sherlock.” He warns grabbing the jacket on the kitchen chair and making his way over to the lounge room.
“What? Why not?”
“It’s got a dagger in it for a reason.” John ignores Sherlock’s next moody grumble and makes his way over to you. His eyes light up and the smile on his face isn’t controllable. “Hello there.”
He welcomes you with a kiss on your cheek and grips your hand. “Hi John.” In the background Sherlock’s impatience was growing.
“Yes you’re all dewy eyed, now go. You’re going to miss your reservation.” He waves at them from the chair.
“Be good Sherlock.” John warns.
“Joseph will look after him.” You assure receiving a frown from the detective.
“I know.” John leads you out of 221b, closing the door behind you. He doesn’t drop your hand until he reaches the restaurant.

***

“I’m bored.”
“What?”
“B-O-R-D” Joseph spells.
“It’s B-O-R-E-D actually.” Sherlock says. The boy huffs before jumping up and examining the room. He wanders over to the fireplace and looks up the chimney. “I wouldn’t do that, there’s monsters in there.”
“Cool.” Joseph replies stepping into the soot, “they’d be more fun than you are.”
“More fun?” Sherlock chuckles, “And I suppose you and John have fun pretending to be superheros?”
“Much more fun.” Joseph begins to continue his exploration now treading sooty prints all over the carpet. He reaches the kitchen and goes instantly for the fridge. Sherlock smiles knowingly. “AH! WHAT IS THAT?”
“It’s a head.” The poor boy runs into the lounge room with wide eyes. “It’s human, kind of old, decapitated by the Turkish Militia and I was sent it as a present.”
“WHO WOULD WANT A HEAD FOR A PRESENT?” Joseph yells, terror clearly evident on his face. There were tears forming. “Is my mum on a date with a murderer right now? Do you kill people?!”
“Well,” Sherlock shrugs, “I have killed people. John too. Although he’s saved more lives than he taken.”
That was enough for Joseph. He needed to save his mum. He needed to save you, escape the evil lair of Sherlock and find the restaurant you were in. He took off, bolting down the stairs and into the dark London night in just his blue rocket flannelette pyjamas.
Sherlock watches him run off from the window.

“Whoops.”

***

John, I’ve done something.
-SH

Go away Sherlock.
-JW

You should probably know though.
-SH

Is Joseph OK
-JW

I think so.
-SH

I think so?
-JW

He may have run off in tears.
-SH

Not my fault he found the head in the fridge.
-SH

John?
-SH

I did bad, didn’t I?
-SH

I’ll go have a look for him.
-SH

Did you lose John’s kid or something?
-GL

He ran from me, not my fault.
-SH

Find the boy. Now.
-GL

Sherlock throws his phone into the pockets on his dressing gown and heads downstairs. “Mrs Hudson, I’m heading out.”
“You don’t need to announce yourself dear.” She replies, Sherlock smirks as he exits.

***

“He’s what?” You ask, eyes wide. Panic thumping your chest. Pain and terror mixed into one.
“Run away from Sherlock. We… we need to go.” He sighs placing cash on the table and leaving with you trailing behind in one smooth movement.
“Where the hell could he have gone?” You mutter furiously hopping into an incoming taxi and griping the handle as hard as you possibly good.
“I’m so sorry, y/n” John says looking at you with guilty eyes.
“Let’s just find him first.”

***

“Jesus Sherlock, did you find him?” John and you jog over to the man standing by an abandoned alley with his hands in his pockets.
“He’s down there, apparently he won’t come out for me because I’m murderer.” Sherlock huffs, his scarf tight around his neck. You push forward into the alley but someone holds you back.
“Let me go, y/n, I want to know he can trust me.” You look back a John who looked so calm and sincere. He was always like that when he was scared himself. He was scared that Joseph would be so terrified of him that he wouldn’t be able to see y/n again. To have them both in his life. Your heart melts for this man, so willing and ready to help anything revolving you. It took all your strength to resist hugging him.
“Okay.” You nod.
John squeezes your hand comfortingly before heading into the alley. Twenty paces down he spots two tide eyes in the dark.
“Jo?”
“Stay there John!” He yells teary eyed and disappointed. He had been sobbing for a while now. John faced him from the opposite side of the alley and knelt on the dirty floor, his good pants now muddy. “Why did you kill those people?”
“What people?”
“The ones Sherlock said you murdered?” He was shivering from the London night and sniffling after every breath. John was worried about hypothermia.
“I’ve never killed a good man.” John whispered.
“But you’ve killed people!”
“Yes. I have.” He admits. “They were bad people, but I shouldn’t have killed them, I know. But sometimes you have to choose between killing someone, or having them kill you.”
“Someone tried to kill you?” Joseph asks shuffling closer but not far.
“Yeah. Me, Sherlock, your mum.” He replies ridding images of you being used for Moriarty’s threat one time.
“My mum?” John nods.
“So me and Sherlock have killed bad people to keep the people we love safe.” He explains. “I’m sorry for it though. Not everyone deserved to die.”
Joseph wiped his tears with the sleave of his shirt, “So you aren’t going to kill me?”
“Why would I kill you, Jo? I love you, you’re like a son to me.” Joseph’s eyes widen.
“A son? So you’re definitely my dad now?”
“If you want me.”
Joseph laughs and runs full pelt into John’s awaiting arms. He stands leaning Joseph on his hip and returns to you.
“Joseph, how dare you run away from Mr Homes! You can’t do that! You scared the living daylights out of me!” Your stern growl melts into a soft smile.
“Sorry mum.”
“Where’s Sherlock?” John asks looking around.
“He told me that the flat was ours for the night and just wandered off.”
“Well in that case let’s go home.” John places Joseph down and re-grasps your welcoming hand. As snow begins to drift down you all reach the door of 221b.

***

Joseph was left to sleep in Sherlock’s bed that night, you tucked him in closely. Once back in the kitchen you thank John properly.
“It was nothing. Don’t worry.” He shrugged blowing into his tea.
“For once just accept my thanks.” You laugh taking his mug from him cheekily and placing it on the table. He frowns, a slight smile on his lips as he you fiddle coyly with the hem of his button-up shirt. You look up at him with bright red cheeks, at this point you couldn’t care less for embarrassment, you should have don't this ages ago.
With a flicker of realization, John had begun to lean down, his lips parted slightly and his eyes glancing from yours to your lips. You drag your hands to his neck and his surround the small of your back. You could smell the heady mixture that was John Watson and all of a sudden you were kissing him. Softly, sweetly and in a blur. His grip on you became stronger as both your bodies meld perfectly. John breaks the kiss leaving you breathless, your foreheads rest against one another.
“I’m sorry about our date.” John smiles moving his grip to your hips.
“Never mind, next time we can have it while Joseph is at school and Sherlock is busy with experiments and we have my place all to ourselves.” John’s smile widens and you giggle at his reaction.

“I like that idea very much.” He chuckles kissing you once more, promising himself never to forget the taste of your lips. “Now, come on. You’re sleeping with me, sweetheart.”

“Sweetheart?” you ask as he leads you down the hall.

“No nicknames?”

“Just not in front of Sherlock, or we’d never hear the end of it.” John chuckles and closes the door behind both of you.