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John stirred awake to the sound of a sobbing baby and a cautious knock on his bedroom door. Rubbing his eyes, he glanced over at the clock and groaned when he saw it was three in the morning. He was two months into his career as single father, and he still wasn’t used to being woken up in the middle of the night by a screaming child. Reluctantly, he shuffled out of bed and yawned as he pulled open the bedroom door.
On the other side of the door stood Sherlock Holmes, as exhausted and drained as ever, holding his baby girl. His best friend had been more than happy to move in and help out after Mary’s sudden passing during labour, but the only experience Sherlock had with babies was yelling at them to be quiet as he interviewed their mothers for cases. His friend looked utterly lost- and sincerely sorry for having to disturb his sleep. Permanent circles seemed to have formed underneath his eyes, and his curls were in a constant state of disarray Sherlock would have once never found acceptable.
Slung over Sherlock’s shoulder was poor baby Amelia with a red face and wide, wet, eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Sherlock said, shaking his head. “I don’t know what else to do- I’ve tried everything! I think she just wants Daddy.”
He turned around so that Amelia could face him, and as soon as his daughter saw his face her crying stifled. Her eyes lit up as she looked up to Sherlock and looked back to John as though to say “can you give me to him, please?!” He couldn’t help but to smile at his daughter as he took her in his arms.
“Come here baby girl,” he said quietly as he ran his hand soothingly over her head. “What did I tell you about giving Sherlock a hard time at night?”
Turning back toward his bed, he carefully lowered them down so she could lay down with him. She reached up to touch his face (her favourite way of saying ‘hi!’), and just like that she seemed completely calm. Sherlock sighed in relief before throwing himself down on the bed next to him.
“She has gone through four nappies in the past couple of hours,” Sherlock whined. “Four! And she still cries! I fed her twice. I’ve played her music. I’ve tried walking her around the house. Your daughter just doesn’t like me.”
Sherlock closed his eyes and took no shame as he wrapped his arms around one of John’s pillows and allowed himself a moment to rest. Laughing, John held his daughter up and tried to meet her in the eye.
“You love Sherlock, don’t you?” He asked her. “Don’t you, Amelia?”
The smallest of smiles slipped across Amelia’s face before she buried her head into his shoulder. He picked her up again and let her hover slightly over Sherlock, but she just reached down and pulled at the consulting detective’s hair.
Sherlock groaned in protest.
“See, she’s bullying me!” He complained.
“She’s just admiring your hair.”
Opening one eye, Sherlock looked up at the baby, giving her the benefit of a doubt, and Amelia began to cry again.
“There, there,” John sighed as he held her against his chest again. “He’s not as scary as he looks, I promise.”
His daughter simply plowed her face into his chest and held onto him tightly.
“I know, you’re Daddy’s little girl,” he grinned as he held her, “but Daddy needs his sleep, and so does Sherlock. How about you lie here with me until you get sleepy, and then I’ll put you to bed?”
John turned to his best friend and, in his non-baby voice, added:
“Thank you for trying, really. I know you’re new at this, but you are doing a great job, really Sherlock…Sherlock?”
His friend snored, and John laughed again when realised Sherlock had probably fallen asleep the moment his eyes closed again. He knew he should feel uncomfortable with having his best male friend fall asleep in his bed, but he didn’t have the heart to wake him up and ask him to move.
“Okay, mate, you get some sleep,” he sighed. His eyes traveled back to his daughter, who grinned at him. She was wide awake. Her eyes flashed over to Sherlock, as though she was wondering why he was just lying there, ignoring them. “I think you wore him out.”
With a giggle she reached up to touch his face again. He ran his finger down her arm and rested his forehead against hers.
“I love you,” he whispered. She let out a soft cry of excitement, like she was trying to say ‘love you too!’ Or at least, he would like to think that was what was going through her mind.
Together they lay in bed watching Sherlock sleep. He gently rubbed his hand against her back, sang to her quietly, and a couple of times even got up to walk her around the room. Around four her eyes finally fell to a close, and a half hour later he felt it was safe enough to try putting her to bed again.
“Sleep well, love,” he said, giving her a kiss to the cheek before placing her carefully into her crib.
When he returned to his bedroom Sherlock was still fast asleep. It was strange, seeing the detective who usually went days without sleeping during cases fall asleep the moment his head hit the pillow. He considered sleeping on the sofa (or stealing Sherlock’s bed), but honestly nothing sounded more appealing right now than getting a few hours of sleep in his own bed. He fixed the covers so that he could throw part of the duvet over his friend’s body. Sherlock let out a snore, and John chuckled as he rolled over on his side to gaze at the baby monitor on his bedside table.
I’m really lucky, he thought as he listened to Sherlock sleep beside him.
This wasn’t exactly how he expected his life to go. Being a single father was absolutely terrifying, and each day he still wondered how he would make it through. But with Sherlock’s help somehow he was making it work, and John would do whatever it took to keep him close.
“If only Mrs Hudson could see us now,” he muttered to himself.
He fell asleep with the image of their former landlady walking in on them sleeping in the same bed in his mind- and a smile on his face.