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Sherlock was awoken with a start by his husband beside him yelling out a muffled, strained sound. He looked to his right and saw a familiar but always upsetting sight. John lay on his back, face scrunched up in pain, fists clenched in the sheets, and breath laboriously exiting through gritted teeth. Sherlock reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder gently.
John sat up with a gasp, eyes open and frantic as memories of Afghanistan played in his mind.
“It’s alright, John. You’re home, you’re safe.” Sherlock said gently.
John didn’t answer, just stared around the room with bleary, confused eyes, and without warning he surged up and staggered across to the bathroom. Following him with slight trepidation, Sherlock found his husband sat in the corner on the floor by the sink. He was breathing hard and had his face tucked into his knees.
“It’s alright.” Sherlock crouched in front of him and stroked his greying hair.
“Papa? What’s that noise? Is Santa here?” Seven year old Hamish, their eldest, swung around the bathroom door, he had a smile on his little face that fell once he saw his Dad.
“It’s alright, Hamish, Daddy’s just having a nightmare. Go back to bed.” Sherlock said, trying not to let his worry about John’s harsh breathing show by sending a soft smile to the young boy.
“But Papa, Ava and Amelia are awake too.” Hamish worried his bottom lip, referring to his four year old twin sisters.
“Can you be a good boy for me and sit with them? I’ll come up in a little while. Daddy needs me for a bit, okay?”
“Okay, Papa. And don’t worry, Charlie isn’t awake.” Hamish said. Sherlock felt relief at that at least – if their new-born baby was awake he certainly wouldn’t be able to give John as much attention and comfort that he needed.
Hamish disappeared and Sherlock sat down beside John, wrapped an arm around his back as he caught his breath. Sherlock had learned over time to let John work through it and just be there as he did.
Eventually John’s breath calmed and he unfurled from his curled up position and rested against Sherlock’s side, his head against his chest.
“Bad one?” Sherlock asked.
John nodded “The… the shooting.” He lifted a hand to grip onto his shoulder, and Sherlock knew he would have phantom pain running through it for the next day or so. The nightmares and memories disturbed John immensely, both physically and mentally.
“It’s over now. You’re safe.” Sherlock rubbed a hand up and down John’s arm.
“Take me to bed?” John whispered, and Sherlock needed no more instruction. He hauled John up and helped him limp back to their bedroom. He guided the man into the bedsheets tucked him in before bringing him a glass of water which John took with shaky hands. After a few sips, John pushed the glass into Sherlock’s hands and curled onto his side, burying his face under the covers.
“I’ll be back in a minute.” Sherlock whispered. First he went to the corner of their room where the crib lay holding two-month-old Charlie. The boy lay blissfully asleep, sucking his thumb. Sherlock stroked a finger down his cheek then went upstairs to find his other children.
They were all in the twins’ room, all three of them in one bed excitedly whispering about Christmas. They looked so sweet Sherlock couldn’t help but smile – all in their matching elf pyjamas, Ava and Amelia’s dark waves slightly messy from sleep, Hamish’s blonde hair mussed up and cheeks pink with excitement. It was quite something to see, especially when he’d never imagined getting to have children in the first place.
“You’re meant to be asleep.” Sherlock used his pretend stern voice and three pairs of eyes snapped to him.
“Sorry Papa! Mish said Daddy had a nightmare and it wasn’t Santa makin’ the noise!” Ava said sadly.
Sherlock came to sit at the edge of the bed “Yes, Daddy had a nightmare. Santa hasn’t been yet so you have to go back to sleep.”
“What if he saw you and daddy awake so he didn’t come in and he’s missed our house?” Hamish worried.
“Nonsense, you three have been very good this year. He won’t miss our house. Now, come along Hamish, let’s leave Ava and Amelia to get to sleep.” He reached over and picked up his eldest. Hamish wrapped his legs around Sherlock’s waist and tiredly snuggled into his shoulder.
“Night night Papa.” The pair in bed chimed.
“Goodnight, sweethearts. I love you.”
Muffled loves were returned as Sherlock reached down with one free hand and stroked both of their hair.
“Is Daddy feeling better, Papa?” Hamish asked quietly as he was carried across the hall into his room, which was a dinosaur haven – dinosaur wall art, dinosaur toys, dinosaur bedding (Sherlock secretly wondered if his son would grow up to be an archaeologist).
Hamish was just like John, very protective and caring – and he had seen a few of John’s nightmares in his time and always worried about him when they happened.
“He is, but he needs to rest.” Sherlock said.
“But it’s Christmas. Will he still be able to play with me in the morning?”
“I’m not sure, we will see.” Sometimes John needed a day or so to get back to himself after a nightmare and a panic attach. And the worry of that tugged at Sherlock’s stomach, knowing that his children were so excited for Christmas and perhaps wouldn’t get to spend it with him in the same way they wanted to.
“If he can’t, maybe I can give him a big cuddle and that’ll make him better!”
“That will definitely help. Now, sleep.” Sherlock lay him back amongst his dinosaurs and tucked him in with a soft smile “I love you, goodnight.”
At six-thirty sharp on Christmas morning the house was awoken by a cry from the crib. Charlie was punctual, as always, and Sherlock pulled himself out of bed and shuffled over to him. The cries lessened to a slight mewling after he was picked up and soothed with gentle rocking.
“Hush now.” He whispered and looked over to the lump on the bed that was his husband. Still curled in on himself. Not a brilliant sign.
“It’s Christmas!” Hamish announced as he, Amelia and Ava came running in excitedly.
“Merry Christmas, sweethearts!” Sherlock smiled as they all wrapped around his legs excitedly.
Hamish pulled away with a curious look at the bed, which he climbed up onto. Kneeling beside John he poked his head slightly under the duvet to look.
“Daddy?”
“Mmm?” John groaned.
“Daddy, it’s Christmas. Are you feeling better?” Hamish asked gently, and Sherlock’s heart squeezed at the sight.
John reached a hand out and took Hamish’s “Not yet, darling.”
“But Daddy, we need to see if Santa has come.” Hamish’s little face was panic-stricken at the thought of his Daddy not being able to do Christmas morning with him.
“Come along, Hamish. Let’s leave Daddy to rest.” Sherlock interrupted, gesturing to the door.
“No, Papa! We can’t do Christmas without Daddy.” Hamish looked scandalised at the notion of it.
Sherlock looked down at his daughters who looked equally concerned that they’d be opening their stockings without John there.
“Okay, new Christmas plan then! How about we go and see if Santa has been, then we can have breakfast and watch a movie and maybe after daddy might be up to it?” Sherlock suggested.
“Okay.” Hamish nodded, leaned over John to give the duvet lump a hug then climbed off the bed to lead the family to the living room.
After breakfast and lots of looking around the tree at all the presents, Sherlock sat on the sofa with Charlie curled up on his chest, Amelia and Ava on either side of him, and Hamish sat in Sherlock’s old armchair, which was his favourite spot for movies. They chose Polar Express, a firm favourite amongst the children, and settled in for a quiet morning.
Sherlock didn’t notice Hamish leave the room (the boy had definitely mastered the art of sneak, and Papa was proud). Spotting the empty seat, he placed Charlie into his bouncy chair and went to investigate. Pushing his bedroom door open, he found a sight for sore eyes. Hamish was lying under the duvet with John. The Doctor had uncurled himself and lay on his side facing his son, who held a big storybook in his hands and was reading aloud to him.
“A lion?” John gasped quietly.
“Yes, daddy, a lion!” Hamish smiled and turned the page.
Sherlock watched them quietly for a few moments before returning to the living room.
Credits rolled on screen when Hamish appeared with his hand in John’s, pulling the man along.
“Daddy!” Amelia and Ava chorused excitedly and jumped up to hug him. John met them with a big hug, one arm for each of them.
“Baby girls!” John kissed each of them “Merry Christmas!”
“Are you better, Daddy?” Ava asked.
“I am. Mishy read me a book and I feel brave like a lion!”
“A big lion!” Amelia gasped.
“We can do presents now you’re here, Daddy!” Ava grinned.
“I can’t believe you all waited for me.” John looked up at Sherlock.
“I think perhaps we have the best children in the world?” Sherlock chuckled.
“I think we do.” John patted their heads then ushered them to the tree.
Hamish helped everyone find a present with their name on while John sat beside Sherlock and took Charlie into his arms for a cuddle. The three older ones opened up the wrapping and John watched with fond eyes, resting his head on Sherlock’s shoulder and taking a breath through his nose and inhaling that comforting scent “Thanks for letting me rest this morning.”
“Of course. I know how it goes, John.” Sherlock pressed a kiss to the man’s forehead.
“I know.”
“Was it ok that Hamish came in to you?”
“Yeah, yeah; it was right when I was feeling less overwhelmed. He’s uncannily good at reading people.”
Sherlock smiled at the boy sat pulling out lego pieces from his new set “He gets it from you.” Which drew a smile from John.
“Hey, Mishy, come show me your new lego.” The kid scrambled up and stood in front of John to show him the pictures on the box and all the bits he needed to build.
“We can build that this afternoon!” John smiled.
“Together?” Hamish grinned.
“Of course!”
Hamish did a little happy wiggle and ran back to his sisters to find more presents.