Work Text:
Soft whispers woke John from his slumber, drawing him out of the empty bed and into the sitting room in the early hours of Christmas morning.
Sherlock stood rocking Arabella, her head of blonde curls resting on his shoulder as he gently rubbed her back. It would always take John’s breath away, watching Sherlock with their daughter, their mutual love making the two most important people in John’s life radiant with laughter and utter brilliance.
At John’s raised eyebrows, Sherlock whispered “she was too anxious to sleep, waiting for Santa to come.”
“Well, Santa only comes when good little children are sleeping, sweetheart,” John whispered back, noticing drooping eyelids unable to resist the late hour and the soft rocking. John’s hand joined Sherlock’s on her back, stepping closer into the perfection of his family.
Who knew happiness could soak into every cell of the body…
Sherlock’s free hand came up, seizing John’s and drawing him even closer so John joined in the rocking, and soon they were dancing. Never breaking contact with their hands, a perfect moment surrounded the family, a memory to forever be cherished. After a few moments, Sherlock rested his forehead on John’s, eyes softened with love in the dimmed lights twinkling on their tree. Arabella snored softly, and John knew there could be nothing more wonderfully beautiful.