Domesticity//Johnlock

1- Almost Like Starting Over

^I made some fan art. What do you think?

All right, here's the first chapter. Enjoy!

Things had been good. Really good, in fact.
John, though still broken up a bit about Mary and all the events at Sherrinford six months prior, had found some closure.

Sherlock was off the drugs (for real this time) and was back to solving cases—things that intrigued him, that gave him his fix.

Rosie had grown quite a bit in the last little while, too. She was already up and walking everywhere, causing all sorts of trouble. But then again, that's what kids were supposed to do, at least in Sherlock's eyes.

Luckily for Sherlock (and sometimes for John), Mrs. Hudson loved children (or course she did, what did you expect?) and would often babysit Rosie when the boys were out on a case or when Sherlock needed to think.

It was one particularly rainy afternoon when John came back to the flat, hair and overcoat wet with a bag of groceries in his hand.

Sherlock, upon his friend's arrival, didn't even bother looking up. He was doing his "thinking" face, as John called it, with his hands clasped together and propped under or over his lips.

John set the groceries on the kitchen table, making sure not to mess with Sherlock's lab experiments.

"John," Sherlock said from his chair, voice low and thoughtful.

"Hm?"

"The missing bus driver case, he was kidnapped by Mr. Heinrich, do let them know that I've solved it. Though perhaps you should tell Lestrade first, he gets all whiny when I do things without him."

John sighed and started putting away the milk, putting it on the food designated side of the fridge (he and Sherlock had discussed a while back that keeping body parts where there was food wasn't a good habit).

"Yeah, all right. What do you want for dinner? Ch-"

"No."

"I didn't finish."

Sherlock groaned in annoyance, bouncing up out of his seat. "You were about to propose that we eat Chinese. Then I say I'm not interested, then you say 'eh, fine! What do you want?' Then I tell you I'm not hungry and you disapprove."

John rolled his eyes at the ridiculously high voice Sherlock had impersonated him with but otherwise ignored it. "Sherlock, you haven't eaten all day."

"It disrupts my brainwork."

"I don't give a damn about your bloody brainwork, eating is necessary for human survival. And though I've doubted it before, you are, in fact, human."

Sherlock let out a sound of annoyance. "You're not my mother, John!"

John scoffed. "No, but I am you best friend, meaning it is my duty to make sure you don't get yourself killed being stupid."

Sherlock didn't respond this time. In fact, he had to suppress a smile that was slowly but surely making its way into his lips.

Oh, John. You're always such good entertainment.

The soldier took his flatmate's silence as a victory and began preparing some soup.

•~•~•~•~•~•

John was setting the table when there was a knock on the door.

"Come in, Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock called (he knew it was her, he'd memorized all the distinct knocking patterns of the people who usually came by).

Mrs. Hudson peeked in before making her way to the center of the sitting room. Sherlock wasn't looking at her (he was still thinking) but John was already setting down a wooden spoon to come over and say hello.

"Hello, John," she greeted warmly, arms open for a hug.

John gave her a quick embrace and kiss on the cheek before speaking.

"How are you, Mrs. Hudson?"

"Lovely. How are you? And the baby?"

The corners of John's mouth quirked up. "Fine, we're both fine. Though it'd be great if he'd stop leaving pig's eyes in the fridge."

Mrs. Hudson laughed at John's humor as Sherlock turned his head to them. "Oh, come on."

"We're only joking, dear," Mrs. Hudson assured him, laughing a little as she spoke. "But really, how's Rosie?"

"She's alright, we're trying to teach her the basics. You know, cow goes moo..."

The landlady nodded, pressing down the wrinkles in her mauve dress a bit. "Is Sherlock of any help, or are you just saying 'we' out of courtesy?"

Surprisingly, Sherlock smiled a tiny, tiny bit at the comment.

Learning to use some snark, I see.

John shot a teasing glance over to his friend but still spoke to Mrs. Hudson. "He's trying, but he was attempting to teach her themes in classic literature, and I think it's a bit too early for that."

"It's never too early to be cultured, John."

The soldier scoffed. "Like you're cultured."

"In the classic arts, yes."

"She's not even two yet."

"John-"

"Oh, you two stop it," Mrs. Hudson interjected.

John sighed. "Apologies. I'm gonna check on dinner."

He turned on his heel and went back to the stove.

Mrs. Hudson sidestepped over to the arm of Sherlock's chair, leaning against it. "You two really do make my day."

Sherlock, not turning to her and still looking lost in thought, responded, "Why?"

"Well, John calls himself a single parent, but that's not quite true, is it?" she mused.

Sherlock's brow creased and he finally made eye contact with her. "The hell does that mean?"

Mrs. Hudson giggled. "This child is being raised by the two of you, you know. An army doctor and a consulting detective. She'll be an interesting one."

Sherlock gave her a look. "I'm not raising the child. John is. I just live here, and so do John and Rosie."

The landlady shook her head in amusement. "You two even bicker like an old couple. You're practically Rosie's other father..."

She paused for a moment, the. A sly grin made its way onto her lips.

"Almost makes you John's husband."

Sherlock gave her a look again, but not in disgust this time. It was rather... thoughtful, inquisitive with a little smirk.

"You think so?"

Mrs. Hudson shrugged. "He'd never admit it, but I certainly think it."

Sherlock straightened his gaze ahead again. "Thank you for visiting, but I believe dinner is almost ready."

Mrs. Hudson gave him a playful smack on the bicep. "You behave, John's working hard."

"Yes, yes," the detective said dismissively.

Mrs. Hudson gave him a stern look. "Promise?"

Sherlock looked up, amused. After a small moment, he gave her a tiny nod.

"Promise."

Yaaay! What did you think?

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March 20th, 2020