Friends Protect People (Johnlock)

Epilogue

A/N: Hey, I finally got around to writing an epilogue, so without further ado, here it is. 

*~5 years later~*

(Sherlock’s POV)

            “Sherlock!” John called, and I looked up from my case file to the kitchen, the direction where his voice was coming from. I rubbed the drowsiness from my eyes, wringing a hand through my unruly hair while glancing at the clock, indicating the late hour.

            “What?”

            “We’re out of milk again.” He announces while walking into the room, jotting something down on a piece of paper. “Also, we need more cheerios, they go through those like starving animals.” He throws the list on my case file, and I groan.

            “Why do I need to do the shopping again?” I ask, letting my head lean against his stomach as he stands behind where I was sitting at my desk, his arms snaking over my shoulders. “Is it because I’m the one who doesn’t start yelling at the machines?” I tease, earning a light slap over the head.

            “Because, I need to go to the hospital all day tomorrow. Sarah is on maternity leave.” John answered, then his hands, which were in a loose grasp on my sternum started to slowly move down my chest to my hips, and his lips were ghosting by my ear. “Plus, there might be something in it for you.” He nips at my ear before straightening up and pulling away.

            “Tease.” I mutter, lifting my left hand up to grasp his, our silver rings glinting in the warm light from the fire place.

            “Daddy…?” A timid voice brought my attention to the stairs, where Addison stood meekly on the bottom step, holding a well-worn stuffed animal in her hand.

            “Yes Addy?” John replied, slipping his hand from mine.

            “I…I had a bad dream.” She whispered, looking down at the floor.

            “Well, that’s no good, isn’t it?” John asked, picking her up and swinging our daughter around a little like she was 4 years old again instead of 8. “What do you suppose we do about that?” He asked me, and I pretended to think really hard.

            “I don’t know, what do you think?” I asked her, and she smiled a little.

            “I want daddy to tell me a story.” I look at John, who was trying to hold back his smile.

            “Of course sweetheart.” He plopped down on one of the overstuffed chairs in our flat, and Addy quickly scrambled onto his lap and snuggled deeply into his arms, one hand still gripping the teddy bear.

            “Papa?” Another voice, smaller this time, said, and I saw Hamish peeking down from the stairs as well.

            “Yes?” I ask, crouching next to him.

            “Addy got up and I can’t sleep.” He whispered, sticking his thumb into his mouth and looking up at me with big dark blue eyes.

            “We’ve got another one.” I called to John, picking up Hamish and bouncing the 3 year old boy on my shoulder.

            “The more the merrier.” John sighed as I settled down into the chair opposite of him, Hamish burrowing into my neck, his soft black curls tickling my nose. “Only one story, then you have to go to bed.”

            “Can you tell us the one about the evil king?” Addy asked, her big brown eyes pleading.

            “That’s a long story…” John accused, lifting an eyebrow.