Distasteful Profession

Harry complicates things

Warning: contains John and them Smokin' pot, so if you're sensitive to this kind of stuff, don't read, then complain, please. Ta.

John and Sherlock acted normal at work, but as soon as they got home, John would go to get Rosie and Sherlock would stay home alone, playing a climactic composition on his violin. Rosie understood, somehow. Even when Sherlock didn't appear to be upset, the first thing she'd do would hug him. They were inseparable, she would cry and he would whine. It's like they were brother and sister. Still, John had to admit, Sherlock would NEVER lay a finger on her when it came to discipline. Even if she broke a vase that his mother gave him, he would take deep breaths and go to fetch John to handle it. He'd act all upset after he would pat her hand or bottom, though.

On Friday night, the two got off early and it was time for the real punishment to begin. John had warned Sherlock that he was going to dread having made John worry that much. Sherlock would scoff, but he had no idea what he was getting himself into.

The three entered the flat and John went to the bathroom. Sherlock placed Rosie in his chair and turned to begin playing a successful or victorious melody. John snuck back out wearing his ACU's just as he heard Harry and Clara walking up the stairs. John quickly explained the situation and Harry laughed deviously as they welcomed themselves into the flat.

Sherlock was playing his violin when he turned to look at Harry, trying to deduce her, but his eyes stayed glued to John as a huge blush spread across his face. "Rosie, get out of my chair, please," Sherlock said, not taking his eyes off of John. Rosie did as she was asked. Sherlock immediately jumped into his chair. He pulled his violin up to his chin as he played a self-composed song he wrote when he was in university. He hadn't remembered it until then, and at that moment, Sherlock jumped up and shouted, "John, you sexy devil, you're a genius!" He ran up to his music stand and sifted through old sheet music until he found one that was blank.

Sherlock worked on writing music Harry, Clara, and John hung out in the kitchen. Rosie, of course, clung to Sherlock as if she didn't know anyone else. "John, we're going to have a huff, you want in?" Harry asked. John discreetly nodded. He leaned back in his chair and shouted, "Sher! We're popping out for a bit!" Sherlock jumped at the 'sudden' noise. Not even looking up from his work, he waved them off, John shrugged.

The three sat inside John's car, passing the bowl around. After John's third huff, it hit. He coughed as he laughed. "This is Good, where'd you find a good deal?" John asked. "Clara's brother, Thadius," Harry answered. "That names almost as ridiculous as William Sherlock!" John laughed. Harry chuckled, "ooh! John, you must've been pretty angry at him to call his name ridiculous!" The laughing continued.

The three joked around for the next 45 minutes until John decided he was too hungry to sit in the car any longer. Harry, Clara, and John headed straight for the fridge. Clara shouted, "Oh, God! A human Head!?" John heard Rosie giggle. "Clara, there's not a human head in the fridge - oh, my God!" Harry froze. John squeezed through them to get meat for a sandwich. "How many slices of bologna do you girls want?" John asked. "John, are you tripping as much as we are?" Harry asked. "Oh, no. That's really there. It's one of Sherlock's 'experiments.' Bloodies up the kitchen every weekend..." John explained.

Rosie was tangling her hands in Sherlock's hair, messing up his curls. John was paying attention when he spilt a glob of jam on his shirt. "Shit," He muttered as he looked down. Sherlock turned around to see John wiping it up onto his finger off of his camouflaged ACU shirt and put his finger in his mouth, sucking and licking the jam off of his skin. Sherlock was watching so intensely, he didn't get any of the signs that John was high until Clara, Harry, and he burst out laughing about it.

Sherlock had to deal with clumsy, hungry, sexy John all weekend long because whenever Harry and Clara suggested it, the three of them went out to get high and come back in and eat everything in the cupboards. Now Sherlock saw why John preferred he not have Harry over but to go to Dublin to visit her. He didn't want Sherlock to know he was a pothead. This also meant Sherlock was left with Rosie all weekend long. Sherlock took this as an ample opportunity to take a picture of him with Rosie and send it to his one and only ex-girlfriend.

'Where's John?'
'"Out" with Harry and Clara. -SH'
'No.'
'Yes. -SH'
'You haven't told him, right?' 
'No, Rose. This is between you, I, and your child. -SH'
'She really is growing up too fast.'
'Yeah, well. She adores me. I don't know why! -SH'
'The same reason why John and I adore you. You're brilliant! I told you that you'd be a good father!'
'John does the discipline and I do everything else. -SH'

Sherlock put his phone in his pocket as John walked back into the flat with bags of food. He was chuckling and his hands were slightly shaking. "John," Sherlock said, standing up, putting Rosie in her pen, "We need to talk." John put the groceries in the fridge, not even paying any mind to the fact that Sherlock just added toes to the cold box. "Alright, we can talk." John sat in his armchair and Sherlock in his across the room. "You're a hypocrite, John." He said. "You're like, the biggest Hypocrite I know. Other than Mycroft," Sherlock said as he muttered Mycroft's name under his breath. Sherlock knew thatJohn didn't like Mycroft. John's eyes widened. "That's rich! Aren't you the one who put on gloves to drain chicken blood." He said, standing up. "I don't get where you're going from. Chicken's blood is all rotten." Sherlock claimed. He knew exactly where this is going. "Donavan says, you get off on your job. You like to do this; you don't even get paid. You like the look of it - which would explain why you messed up the kitchen all the time which these inhumane experiments of yours!" John said, crossing his arms. "She also says I'm dangerous and a freak. And, that you shouldn't stick around me. Am I so dangerous, and yet here you are," Sherlock pointed out, crossing his arms as well as he stood up to leave the room, leaving John to still be upset?

John passed out on the couch with a book/news over his face. Sherlock fed Rosie with a bottle before setting him down for sleep. Sherlock then carried John sloppily to their bedroom and plopped John onto the bed. He was surprised John hadn't woken up, but with the amount of weed he'd smoked and food he'd eaten, it honestly wasn't surprising to him. Although Sherlock injected and smoked nicotine cigarettes, he couldn't stand the stench of weed. So, he'd held his breath as he leaned down to kiss John on the cheek and cover him up. He left the room and went to the couch to find Rosie standing there, looking at Sherlock, wide-eyed and wild hair. Sherlock shrugged as he walked over to his violin and bow.

Sherlock let the multiple loosened, soft twine carefully carry themselves across the tight, rough strings as he held the neck and let his fingers act like legs and dance gracefully. Rosie loved it when Sherlock played his violin, not in like the loud, cheery kind of love, but the silent yet present admirer. He played soft, yet rough as if he was being asked to explain his life via Violin solo. The last part sent shivers down his own spine as it was so emotional to him. Rosie seemed to agree as she began to softly sob.

Sherlock stopped abruptly as he rushed to her, picking her up to cradle her in his arms until she soon fell asleep. Sherlock gently placed Rosie back into the area Sherlock called an 'inevitable prison cage,' and John called a 'cot.' Sherlock's head popped up as he heard light footsteps.

"Sherlock," a familiar voice whispered. "John? Is everything okay?" Sherlock asked, carefully making his way to John, only to have him practically throw himself at him. "I'm sorry! I've been an utter cock! This entire weekend. You're out of the doghouse! I swear it!" John shouted into the bend between Sherlock's neck and shoulder. Sherlock had to fight the impulse of pushing Sherlock away so he couldn't be bothered by the smoke smell. Instead, he pushed past the smoke and focused on the faint scent of 'John.' "Does this mean we can cuddle and hold hands and kiss and stuff again?" Sherlock asked, making John chuckle. "Of course it does, Idiot! Let's go."

John led Sherlock back to his room, where they got under the sheets and began to drift off to subtle sleep.