Not Afraid

Chapter Thirteen - Christmas

It was Christmas Eve and the snow had piled up around the window that overlooked the street at 221B. John had strung up fairy lights so they glowed their rainbow drops, framing the snow and looking terribly festive. Mrs Hudson had allowed them to use her little Christmas tree because she said that Rosie ought to have one. This had resulted in John attempting to decorate it while Rosie got tangled up in tinsel and fairy lights and Sherlock pretended to help but was actually just playing with the baubles, rolling them across the floor and then chasing them, pinning them down moments before they were lost under the couch. Presents had slowly been piling up under the base of the tree; Molly Hooper had dropped by with a paper bag which she emptied under the tree and hugged John and Sherlock before kissing Rosie on the head.

"She's grown up so much, hasn't she?" she shook her head in wonder.

"Yeah," John put his hands on his hips. "She's saying 'dadda', 'food' and 'an 'Arry' now, among other, slightly less coherent things."

'An 'Arry' was Aunt Harry who now slept in John's old room. It hadn't been many days after the night in which John sneaked into Sherlock's bed that they'd decided they may as well bite the bullet and share a room. Besides, Sherlock reasoned, Harry couldn't sleep on the couch forever. So, much to Harry's delight (she loved the fact that John and Sherlock were an item and still yelled 'cute' at every available opportunity, sometimes joined by Mrs Hudson, much to Sherlock's irritation), John moved into Sherlock's room. They managed to bundle Rosie's cot in there too and now, sometimes, Sherlock would wake to her crying in the night and get her back to sleep. John wasn't sure he wanted to know what stories Sherlock told Rosie but they seemed to work. He was slightly concerned her next words might be 'murder' or 'crime.' But he loved sleeping with Sherlock, although Sherlock was still getting used to it. He loved falling asleep beside the tall, thin man he loved with his all his heart and he adored waking up next to him, seeing him at ease and very vulnerable. The way his face completely relaxed, mouth slightly ajar and curls framing his narrow cheeks.

"So pretty, too," Molly was crouching down beside Rosie who was fixated upon a little wooden toy that Greg had dropped off a couple of days ago, along with some gifts for under the tree. John suspected that Rosie was going to be very spoiled this Christmas.

"She is. Looks like her mother," John replied. After that, Molly left and Sherlock came into the sitting room, wrapped in his dressing gown after taking a shower. He curled up in his chair and watched Rosie play, a small smile of delight and wonder on his face. John adored the fact that Sherlock was so fond of Rosie; it was so pure and sweet and removed from Sherlock's usual activities. He'd always liked Rosie, but lately Sherlock had become very attached to her. Quite suddenly, and much to John's surprise, Sherlock leaped up from his chair and ran to their room in a pattering of bare feet and creaking of floor boards. Moments later, he was somewhat dressed and hauling his coat over his shoulders, struggling to free his arm from its twisted mess in the sleeve.

"Where're you going?" John asked, spreading his hands out in front of him to illustrate his confusion and overall bafflement.

"Last minute shopping," Sherlock said and dashed out the door, knotting his scarf around his neck, getting all tangled up in it.

"Shopping?" John called after him, frowning heavily but Sherlock was gone. This was even more out of character. Hell, the last time Sherlock had willingly gone shopping was when he'd bought the wedding ring for Janine which had never needed using anyway. John had managed to drag him into the shopping central of London once to buy some socks but he'd complained the whole time hence why John had made the decision to shop alone. So, when Sherlock dashed out to do some shopping without prior planning and much complaining, John was very suspicious indeed.