Father, Not A Detective

Chapter Four: Sharing Something I Didn't Know I Had

_________BACK AT BAKER STREET___________

The three residents of 221B made their way up the stairs and opened the door to their humble abode.

John stumbled on his feet, completely exhausted and weighed down with the sleeping child strapped across his shoulders and chest. His back ached and his legs stung, but he managed to pull himself up the steps without much of a fuss. His breath was heavy with fatigue and his eyes threatened to shut on him before he even reached the door.

He could hear Sherlock lugging behind him, trying not to make it fairly obvious that he was as exhausted as John was. His feet dragged on the steps longer than they normally did, but Sherlock kept his shoulders back and his chin up, John knew better. He could tell when Sherlock was tired and frankly, he'd never seen him more worn out.

John took Helena out of her carrier and held her out for Sherlock to hold as he stripped himself of the harness. He shrugged it off his shoulders and chuckled to himself as he watched Sherlock struggle with the squirming baby in his hands.

"You know you can balance her on your hip, right? It's more comfortable for the both of you, trust me."

Sherlock glanced up from the baby to John and furrowed his eyebrows.

"Oh. Yes, of course." He cautiously brought Helena to his torso and balanced her on his bony hip, keeping her close. Helena grabbed at Sherlock's collar and tugged on it, nearly breaking the button. Sherlock smirked, surprisingly impressed with her grip.

To Sherlock's own surprise, he started to sway back and forth, like he often did while playing violin.

John grinned and blushed, watching his best friend be so gentle and loving towards his daughter. It was something he enjoyed, more than anything, to see.

"I'll make tea." John walked into the kitchen and got the kettle going and watched the two from the sink. He chuckled softly and made tea for the both of them. He picked out Sherlock's favorite, but he probably wouldn't even notice. Most of the time, to Sherlock, tea was just tea.

John handed the cup over to Sherlock as they both sat down in their regular chairs. Drinking their regular tea and their regular, yet comfortable, silence,

John was the first to interrupt the comfortable silence.

"She loves you a lot, you know."

Sherlock up and scoffed.

"She's a baby John. Her level of emotional capacity is extremely insufficient. The recognition of affections towards anyone but a parent, is completely unrecognized in this stage of life. There is no perception of emotion to a child; placid, simple things they are." Sherlock took a sip of his tea as he contemplated whether or not he had just offended John.

John's response was to simply blink and chuckle as he watched Helena struggle to crawl up Sherlock's chest. Her little arms lifted, one after the other, as she cooed and giggled, as if Sherlock's chest was a difficult, yet impressive obstacle she had accomplished.

Sherlock smiled half-heatedly at the child as his eyes followed her movement. She bumped her head gently against Sherlock's cheek, her limp, young neck almost giving way under her skull. Sherlock gave a throaty chuckle and positioned the child down by his stomach to have another go at the trying task of reaching Sherlock's shoulder,

"You're so good with her..." John watched as his heart warmed. He rested his chin in the palm of his hand and scratched his cheek. "It's like you're one of her parents..." John trailed off before he went any farther, not wanting to scare Sherlock off.

Sherlock, feeling quite taken aback at John's observation, glanced away from Helena and up at his friend. They stared at each other for a few short seconds until Sherlock glanced away and pretended he didn't hear what John said. He buried his nose into Helena's thin, soft hair and held her head gently as she gripped at his shirt. Sherlock wanted, more than anything, to rid themselves of this terrible awkwardness and go research for the new case, but he knew John would be disappointed.