Johnlock Oneshots

11 - Becoming Human

Rosie's first day at nursery came quicker than expected, and some little details were sorted out along the way.

WARNINGS: none except the fluff that may suffocate you

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Sherlock never thought he'd be a father.

It wasn't that he felt as if he wasn't able to -he knew the basic fundamentals of child care and would be able to learn fast enough- but he never thought the situation would ever be possible. He wasn't interested in women and an ex-addict would never be allowed to adopt a child, certainly not one who had an extremely hushed up murder charge under his name.

Although he probably could have just asked Mycroft to bend the rules for him a little, he also didn't want to burden a child's life with his own package deal. He risked his life weekly, left the house in the middle of the night to chase down some recent suspect, and wasn't always in the right mindset to cope with the added stress.

He'd probably make the child's life hell, wouldn't have time to look after it properly, and that was all the answer he needed.

Children were irrelevant.

In his life he'd never even considered what he'd be like in the presence of a child. Would he be a kind father? Would he know how to stop his child from crying or hurting? Or would he be like his own father: awkward and naive and wanting nothing to do with raising his own.

He didn't want to be the man his father had shown himself as, so what better way to follow that rule than to never associate with children unless it was critically important.

So when he was faced with one living in the flat below his, there wasn't much that could have prepared him for what would happen in the following years.

When John had moved back in with him they both quickly realised Rosie would not be a baby forever, and would eventually need her own room. They considered every possibility and every corner where a bedroom could be snuck into, but eventually they came to the conclusion that 221B Baker Street was not fit for children.

However, the same did not apply to 221C.

The flat had been unoccupied since Mrs Hudson had first decided to rent out the building -which meant it needed to go through serious treatment to make it into an inhabitable area- but it would work perfectly. Sherlock distracted himself from what they were actually doing by avoiding the entire child thing and instead focusing on the business side of it; ordering around workers and complaining at Mycroft for allowing such imbeciles to perform simple tasks in such an important flat. Fresh plaster coated the walls, dust was cleared from the old fireplace, bright colours and shiny lights were hung from the ceiling, and even John's bed with its ugly checkered duvet was manoeuvred from one flat to the other.

But eventually it was done- and John and Rosie were able to move in.

Then that was when the real mess started.

John understood Sherlock wasn't too keen on looking after a child considering his own experiences and inexperience, but there were times that he really did just need someone to rely on. The pain of loosing his wife and having to see what her future could have held everyday in his daughter was having a hard affect of him, and however much he loved her sometimes he just needed to get away.

Sherlock was always there when John needed him, and slowly he began to fall in love with Rosie without even knowing it was happening.

He couldn't help it, she was the only thing John and he had left of Mary. She was that little piece of his friend that he could look after and make sure nothing bad happened to, which he'd promised to do for her mother and was certain he'd follow through this time.