Chapter Text
Nine months. Rosie was nine months old and still didn’t sleep through the night. John loved his daughter with all his heart but was starting to go insane because of the lack of sleep. Every time he looked at his baby, with her blond curls and her blue eyes, he felt a huge wave of love and simultaneously a deep sadness that he was unable to make her keep a regular sleep schedule. He felt guilty for Rosie’s irregular sleep pattern. He was her only remaining parent and was always away, leaving her in someone else’s care. He, irrationally maybe, thought that Rosie kept him up at night just to see him. So, he soldiered on, kept a smile on his face and dealt with the tiredness as well as he could. He knew he was making a poor job at it. He often snapped at people, got grumpy. He remembered with shame the day he made a barista cry because she got his order wrong. It was just getting too much.
The past six months had been a rollercoaster of emotions and processing all of it, even without sleep deprivation, would have been more than challenging for anybody. The list of mad and tragic events had just kept pilling on and John had stacked each of them on top of the other. It was not ideal as coping mechanism went but he didn’t know how to get through his days otherwise. He was certain he would instantly collapse if he took a minute to really let the feelings wash other him. His wife was dead, his relationship with his best friend was a mess, he had been kidnapped and threatened by several psychopaths… The list went on and on. He supposed he had chosen this life the day he had agreed to move in with Sherlock Holmes.
John was staring into his cup of coffee and thinking about that day which had changed his entire life for better or worse. If anyone gave him a chance to go back to the start, to this morning at Bart’s morgue, he knew he would do it all over again. Meeting and getting to know Sherlock was the best thing that could have happen to him at the time. He had been broken, the shadow of an army doctor with a psychosomatic limp and no future to look for. Living and working with Sherlock had cured him, brought danger and excitement to his life. He acknowledged that this encounter had saved him. However, if he could time travel he would probably change a thing or two about what happened over the years of their acquaintance…
He didn’t have the time to continue this train of thought as he heard Rosie wake up in the baby monitor. He sighed, took one last sip of his now cold coffee and left the kitchen for the nursery. It was six o’clock and John had been awake since four thanks to Rosie. Each bone in his body was begging him to go lie down and get some sleep, but it wouldn’t be happening. When he got to her bed, Rosie was wide awake, ready to start her day. John picked her up and started getting her ready for the day. He had to be at work at nine and drop Rosie at daycare before that. He had plenty of time to dress her up and give her breakfast. It was lucky because he felt numb and would probably forget something if he didn’t have time to think about what he had to do.
That was becoming quite problematic, he was so exhausted and regularly forgot what he had to do. So far, it had not been too bad : he had forgotten some items when he went grocery shopping or missed his stop on the tube,… things like that but nothing worrying. Nonetheless, he was beginning to notice the concerned looks of his colleagues at the clinic. He was a mess and looked like it. He tried to keep his composure, minding the way he dressed and trying to take care of his appearance. But, the dark circles under his eyes were a dead giveaway.
By the time he reached the clinic, John was shaking with nervous energy. He saw two patients before the inevitable happened and he had to be sent back home. He was found sleeping on his desk by his eleven o’clock appointment and had to admit he wouldn’t be able to finish his shift. They asked him to take his vacation days and stay at home for the next two weeks.
John felt defeated and a failure as a doctor as well as a father. He went to pick Rosie up from daycare and headed for Baker Street. He didn’t have any plan in mind but just knew he needed help. What kind of help he was expecting from Sherlock he didn’t know, but he wanted to see him anyway. Moreover, Mrs Hudson might be in and able to watch the baby for an hour or two so he could get some rest. It was one o’clock when he finally reached Baker Street.
His steps felt heavy as he climbed the flight of stairs to 221B. With Rosie clinging to his hip and her changing bag balancing on his other shoulder, he opened the door and spotted Sherlock sitting at the desk by the window, writing in one of his black notebooks.
“You got fired.”, Sherlock stated with just one look at him.
“Not fired. Asked to take a leave. Two weeks.” John sat down in his armchair with Rosie on his lap and a huge sigh. The bag fell by his side with a thud.
“You fell asleep.”
“What gave me away ? Maybe the shitty way I look ?!” John asked with a sad laugh.
Sherlock rose from his chair and came to take the little girl from her father. He sat opposite John in his own armchair, bouncing a giggling Rosie on his lap. “You need to sleep.”
“Ta, I know that.” John had begun collapsing in the armchair and felt his eyelids get heavier with every second. “Is Mrs Hudson home ? I hoped she would look after Rosie the time for me to take a quick nap.”
Sherlock shook his head. “She’s at her sister’s. She will be back in two days.”
“Bugger.” John tried to stir himself in order to get up. He would better go back to his house and pray for Rosie to nap so he could get some rest as well.
“You can leave Watson with me and go lie down in your old room.” The words stopped John on his track.
“You wouldn’t mind ?” John was surprised by the offer. Sure, Sherlock was Rosie’s godfather and had already looked after her from time to time but he never seemed too keen on playing the nanny. Moreover, he was rarely available, always working on some case or experiment.
“Of course not. I assure you Watson and I are perfectly capable of spending time together.”
“Fine. If you are available, I won’t argue. I need to sleep if I want to function like a normal human being. Thanks.” John stood up, taking one last guilty look at his daughter. Once again, he was leaving her in someone else care. Nonetheless, exhaustion had taken his toll and he was not in the capacity of being a father right now. He had to sleep before he could be himself again. With a nod, he left Sherlock and Rosie in the living-room and went upstairs to his old bed. The room was still the same and he felt comfort as he took his shoes off and lied down. As soon as his head hit the pillow, his eyes closed and within minutes he was dead to the world. He barely registered noises coming from downstairs before he fell in a dreamless sleep.
—————
When John’s eyes painfully opened a few hours later, he needed a few seconds to take in his surroundings. The light in the room was dim, indicating that the day was already drawing to a close. John turned around on the bed to take a look at the alarm clock on the bedside table. Seven thirty.
He laid on his back, letting his brain come back online gradually. He was in Baker Street. He'd been sent home because he'd fallen asleep on the job. Pink rose to his cheeks with shame. Never in his life had he been so unprofessional. Regardless of how tired he had been, this probably made him the worst GP in the London area. One more thing to add to John Watson’s list of achievements, John bitterly thought.
Sounds coming from the kitchen downstairs made John sat up with a start. Fuck, Rosie ! He had left his infant daughter for hours with Sherlock. There were no alarming smells or noises, only the regular sounds of someone preparing dinner. It helped John relax a little but he still stood up grabbed his shoes and ran downstairs.
The scene which welcomed him left him gobsmacked. Rosie was in her chair, playing with a stuffed bee, while Sherlock was mixing her meal. The kitchen was spotless and a clean bottle was already waiting by the sink for later when she would ask for some milk before bed. John stopped on his track at the kitchen entrance and took a good look at them. Rosie was relaxed and seemed happy to wait for Sherlock, no fussing in sight. Sherlock was wearing one of his usual tailored suit, unruffled and as pristine as ever. He had his back to John and was talking to Rosie, explaining to her each step necessary to the preparation of her meal. The little girl was listening and squeezing her little toy. It was as if this was just a normal day for them, a part of their everyday routine. John was utterly surprised by the domesticity of it all and felt reluctant to disturb the peaceful scene.
He cleared his throat to let them know he was there. Rosie jumped and turned around, instantly reaching to him with a loud ‘Dada’. John patted her blond curls and moved toward Sherlock.
“Sorry, I slept so late. Didn’t mean to throw her on you for so long.” John had stopped behind Sherlock and was balancing his weight on the kitchen table, trying to hide his embarrassment. Sherlock had agreed to look after Rosie but he probably had better things to do with his day.
“It’s all fine. Watson and I had a splendid time.” With that, Sherlock turned around with a bowl of freshly mixed vegetables in his hand.
Was that homemade ??? John mouth opened in utter shock. There was no way Sherlock Holmes had just cooked for someone. Sherlock feigned to ignore John’s facial expression and walked to sit in front of Rosie chair. Without a comment, he started to feed the young girl.
“Did you…. did you prepare that yourself ?” John had turned and still couldn’t believe what he was witnessing with his own eyes. Sherlock was displaying fathering skills unexpected from him. Of course, John knew that Sherlock was not the high-functioning sociopath he claimed to be. He cared about people in his own way and John knew that he had always done everything he could to look after him. However, Sherlock had never been one for domesticity. John couldn’t remember even one instance where he had actually cooked something (toasts didn’t count).
“Despite what you think, I’m not completely inept. I can boil and blend broccoli. That’s hardly rocket science. Just sit down and stop staring.”
The tone was firm and John followed the order. He sat down but quickly felt uneasy. He stood up and started making tea. Tea was good, tea was comforting, tea would help him make sense of this surreal day. He prepared a fresh batch and poured himself a cup as well as Sherlock.
As soon as the flavour of the black leaves hit his tastes buds, John felt more alert. In the meantime, Rosie had finished her dinner and Sherlock had settled her on her mat in the living-room. She was playing with her toys while John and Sherlock sat in their chairs sipping their cuppa.
The day was coming to an end and it would soon be time to put Rosie to bed. John had better start to get ready to leave. He was playing with his empty cup when Sherlock’s voice startled him.
“Just sleep here. There’s no point going back to your house.” Sherlock’s statement made sense really. There was no point going back all the way to his house. Rosie had what she needed there and his bed was already unmade. Nonetheless, John was reluctant to accept the offer. He needed to bring back some normality to this hectic day. Going back to his town house was his normality now. He had to use his imposed leave from work to good use and try to bring back some balance and rhythm to his and Rosie’s lives. Beginning by spending a night away from home might not be the best idea, even if it was tempting.
“Thanks. You have been so helpful today but I can’t impose anymore than that. Better for us to go back home before Rosie falls asleep on the floor.” John went to the kitchen, put the empty cups in the sink and started gathering all of Rosie’s stuff.
“Don’t be tiresome. You need a real night of sleep. I can help.” Sherlock was still in his chair, his eyes following John’s movements. His face was unreadable.
“Thanks again. But, no, we need to go home.”
“Please yourself but just know I wouldn’t mind you staying here.”
At these words, John felt warmth in his heart. For Sherlock it was almost an admission he wanted them to stay. Nevertheless, John stood his ground and picked Rosie up from the mat. There was nothing left to add so he just headed for the door, smiled to Sherlock and said his goodbyes.
—————
Later that night, alone in his bed and unable to find sleep, John bitterly thought that Sherlock had been right. He should have stayed in Baker Street. As if she was agreeing, Rosie started screaming. John was in for another restless night.