Only Yours

14

TWOMONTHSLATER

John's P.O.V

I hate the nights when I have to put Will to bed. 

Every single night Sherlock ends up in here, rocking him to sleep and singing any random song in Turkish, which is also apparently the babies 'favourite language'  while I stand in the doorway and feel like the worst Father in existence.

I have been back for two months. Any normal child would have forgotten life when I wasn't there but not this freaking genius child. He has to remember everything. He dislikes me touching him, he dislikes me feeding him, and he dislikes me being anywhere near him. On the rare occasions Sherlock leaves him alone with me, he starts crying until his precious 'Dada' returns and scoops him up.

On these occasions Will shoots me a smug look and buries his face in Sherlock's neck.

He first spoke at five months exactly. 'Murder,' he said. Sherlock actually cried in happiness. I was the only one wondering what sort of kid first speaks at five months and then what sort of kid says 'Murder' as his first word.

'Murder' was closely followed by 'Dada', then 'Strade' (Lestrade), 'Mikey' (Mycroft), 'Ranny' (Granny, Sherlock's mum), 'tato' (potato), 'Prish' (Sherlock's Protective and Robust Infant Safety Holder, also known as a sling), 'Mud' (Mrs Hudson) and lastly 'Nonvan'. Donovan. He pretty much said Donovan's name before mine.

I've tried everything, but that child is an impossible grudge holder. I think he's angry with me for two reasons; one for making his beloved daddy so upset and two for taking up all Sherlock's attention. Though really it's the other way round. Everytime me and Sherlock try to have sex that damned brat starts screaming and crying and Sherlock rushes off to his aid. It's like he has a sensor.

Such a cockblock.

When I told Greg this, he told me I was being harsh. He, like everyone else, adores Will.

It's hard to love someone who so obviously hates you back.

Anyway.
Moon

Right now I am trying to get the little bugger to fall asleep and he is refusing outright to even try. I'm even singing to him but he is just looking at me with those big eyes as if to say, 'Nice try. It won't work.'

When I try to gently pull the covers up to his chin he throws up in my face. This is the last straw.

'Sherlock!' I run out of his room, wiping milky puke off my face. 'Sherlock Holmes, sort out your son!' Sherlock is lying on the sofa with his feet up and eyes closed. 'What did he do?'

'He deliberately puked in my face!' Sherlock opens one eye and scans my face. 'John, he's six months old. He cannot deliberately throw up in your face.'

'But he did!' I sound whiny and brattish and I can see Sherlock is trying very hard not to laugh but I am really not in the mood. 'Seriously, Sherlock, he hates me. I don't know why. But I can't live like this anymore.' Sherlock immediately goes stony faced. 'John, I cannot make him like you. You must do that yourself. He may be advanced but he is still a baby and for him to like you, you need to show him you love him. He's your son, John.'

'He doesn't feel like it, Sherlock.' I regret the words but it's too late. Sherlock glares at me before storming off to the baby's room.

'Well done, John. Good job.' I say to myself.