Parentlock Flash Fics

John Gay?

John was NOT gay.

Ok, so he lived with a man. Co-parenting his child. But if you had just heard the full story, you'd understand!

Besides, lots of people lived together without being romantically involved. And after all, Rosie was his biological daughter.

And yes, he and his male flat mate did share a bed now— but ONLY because Rosie needed her own room now, so she had moved into his! No one was willing to sleep on the couch. He used to be able to use the excuse that Sherlock hardly slept anyways, but that had ceased long ago.

He wasn't gay; It just felt more natural to sleep next to someone after having been married. Well, he couldn't speak for Sherlock, but it helped John sleep. But he was not gay!!!!!!!!

And... anyone would feel squeamish under that sharp gaze. The gaze that searched him, that pleaded with him, that laughed at and with him, the gaze that feared for him and was scared of him. Any gaze from those eyes that was set on

him— well, it made his stomach do flips. But who wouldn't feel that way under THAT gaze?

And his hair, it just looked so soft. It bounced up and down as they ran through the streets of London, it was ruffled when the detective was frustrated— it was shocking how well-kept it looked, considering how little thought Sherlock seemed to give to it. Bloody lucky bastard...

Even his name! Christ, Sherlock! (Those two words always seemed to go together, especially on cases.) His name was bloody aristocratic, fitting for a

well-educated, arrogant man.

John knew he must be crazy, for being drawn to this man for so long. But he couldn't deny, he found something... charming about his speedy deductions and witty humor, about his hair and his eyes, and... and his cheekbones and the way he turned his coat collar up so he looked cool... and...

God. He might not be gay, but Sherlock Holmes was something else.

"Daddy? What are you thinking?" Came a sweet voice from a very tired little girl. John suddenly realized that he had taken his sweet time tucking her in tonight, he must have zoned out. Christ, Sherlock was really having an effect on him. He blushed slightly, thanking the gods that she couldn't see it in the darkness.

"Isn't that Sherlock's thing?" She continued, stifling a yawn.

John barked a laugh. "Not only Sherlock can think. Goodnight, pumpkin. Sweet dreams." He kissed her forehead. She tried to cringe at the sentiment, but giggled at him all the same.

"Goodnight, Daddy."