The Tragedy of Baker Street

The Soldier and the Genius

3rd Pov:

It was so cold. John shivered violently when the wind picked up, the dusting of snow rising to pound wetly at the back of his neck. He hurried up the steps to 221B, grabbing the key out of his coat pocket with a shaking hand.

He jammed the cold metal into the lock, twisting sharply and shoving hard. The door swung open with a bang and he rushed in, letting it slam shut behind him, not bothering to lock it up again. He took off his coat, hanging it up and sighing as the warmth of the flat surrounded him like a blanket.

John made his way up the stairs after saying hello to Mrs. Hudson, nodding understandingly as she mentioned her hip was bothering her again. He offered to take a look at it, saying he'd check it out as soon as he'd gotten the groceries put away.

He took the stairs two at a time, opening the door quietly and peering in. He knew Sherlock would most likely sleep for about eight hours once the case was over, and he'd crashed immediately when they got home.

John smiled slightly at the sight of his flatmate snoring on the couch, Rosie was lying on top of him and drooling on his fitting purple button-up, leaving a small dark spot. John bit his lip as the floorboards of the old building squeaked when he started walking to the kitchen, closing the door to the stairs softly behind him.

He looked again to Sherlock and Rosie as he put the food away, humming contently as he opened the fridge. After a particularly nasty incident where John almost drank acid-Sherlock had put it in the milk jug again-they'd come to an agreement. Sherlock got the top shelf for his experiments since John couldn't really reach it anyways, and John wouldn't throw anything out that Sherlock had been messing with without asking him first.

He finished with the groceries and was going down to talk to Mrs. Hudson when Rosie woke, sitting up on Sherlock's chest and hitting it with closed fists. "Daddy!" she shrieked, starting to cry. John's eyes widened and he rushed over, trying to pick up Rosie and shush her before Sherlock woke as well. No such luck.

Sherlock's eyes snapped open and he was immediately soothing her, rubbing her back and whispering, "what's wrong, sweetheart? It's okay, go back to sleep." Rosie slowly stopped crying, sniffling and looking at John before patting Sherlock's chest again. "Daddy," she said simply. Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"When did you get back?" he asked softly, trying not to disturb the little girl falling back asleep on his chest. "Just a few minutes ago. Would you like me to take her?" Sherlock shook his head, his curls bouncing and waved a hand dismissively. "I'm going back to sleep anyways, no reason to." He'd just finished when his phone buzzed on the table nearest to John and he didn't think twice before picking it up and reading the text aloud.

"It's Lestrade. 'Another case, down by the Thames. Two murders, no tracks in or out, and no weapons or stab wounds. No containers for poison, and no cars or anything.' What do you think?" he shouldn't have bothered asking, and later when he was sitting hunched over a bed in a hotel room he'll wish he'd just deleted the text and let Sherlock and Rosie sleep a little more.

But Sherlock's eyes lit up, and Rosie was awake the second he was, not wanting to miss anything. Sherlock dumped Rosie gracefully into John's arms, shrugging on his overcoat and his Belstaff, buttoning it up and taking Rosie again.

He tucked her into his side, letting her tug on the wrinkles in his Belstaff as he made his way down the stairs. John, who hadn't taken off his shoes yet, raced down the stairs after him and threw Rosie's coat at the consulting detective, shrugging on his own.

Sherlock managed to wrestle Rosie into her coat, handing her back to her father and opening the door. "Daddy!" she shrieked again, reaching out for Sherlock. The man tensed, staring wide eyed at his flatmate's daughter. John raised an eyebrow but when she threatened to cry thrusted her into Sherlock's arms. He held her carefully, as though he hadn't just been sleeping on the couch with her ten minutes earlier.