A Quiet Evening

[alafaye]

Title: A Quiet Evening
Author: alafaye
Beta: None
Rating: PG
Warnings: hints of polygamy
Word Count: 530
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction created for fun and no profit has been made. Rights belong to the respective creators. Sherlock Holmes was created by Sir ACD and the current incarnation from which I write belongs to the BBC et. al.
Notes: Written for prompt #20 at dove_drabbles
Summary: After a case, Sherlock and John enjoy a quiet moment.
A/N: Written for Round 2 of cottoncandy_bingo. My card is here and I used the prompt 'carving/drawing names/initials'. Also written for laurtew at the Happy April Swap who asked for Sherlock/John, happy ending.

Can also be read at AO3 | DW | IJ



It's still early in the evening--just gone on tea--and John's finished typing up the latest case. He's not sure if he's going to publish it now or save it for later or maybe never. It was a bit intense for him and Sherlock, hitting a bit too close to home, and he wonders if he's brave enough to share how close with the rest of the world. He's settled onto the sofa with a book and Sherlock is curled against him, into him, as if he was trying to fit himself inside John. He's quiet, silent even, except for the movements of his finger on John's stomach.

When John's phone vibrates with an incoming text, he's slow to pick it up, but if it was a case, it would have been Sherlock's phone instead of his own.

Sleep late tomorrow. I've already called the clinic and let them know that you're feeling under the weather. Little John's sound asleep, but he said to tell you both he loves you.

Mary. John smiles at his phone and unconsciously rubs his thumb over the screen. "John sends his love."

Sherlock's answering hum feels like a rumble of thunder. "A remarkable child. My readings say that children are difficult with having more than two parents."

John puts his phone on the table and wraps his arm around Sherlock's shoulder. "I don't think there are any studies done for our kind of family."

Sherlock smiles against John's throat. His fingers keep tracing something on John's shirt. "Thank you. For sharing him with me."

John sighs fondly. "I don't think you quite understand it properly, you know. There was never a question of you also being his father."

Sherlock's quiet and John returns to his book. But John knows that Sherlock has a point. In the aftermath of Milverton's blackmail, something had changed between the three of them, between John and Sherlock. John spent as much time with Sherlock as Mary and little John spent time wherever he felt like it. It had felt...natural. And little John didn't seem to mind. He hadn't even questioned it; he simply knew, as he much as he knew anything, that he had three parents who loved him.

John's just starting to think of turning in when he realizes that Sherlock's finger isn't aimlessly wandering. John frowns. "Chemicals?"

Sherlock stills. "Our chemicals. Our family. All of us." He swallows hard. "Reminding myself that the chemical bonds of nature, once bonded, are difficult to separate. That they prefer to remain as is."

Oh. John marks his place in the book and sets it on the coffee table. He brushes Sherlock's forehead with his lips and closes his eyes. Breaths deep. "Let's go to bed. Make it an early evening in and create some chemicals together and we'll not get out of bed for much of anything tomorrow."

Sherlock's hand twists John's shirt. "And tomorrow--we could take little John out to the park?"

John breaths deep again, amused and content. "You never have to ask. Never."

"Good." Sherlock kisses John's neck and unfolds himself. He slides his hand effortlessly into John's and pulls him into the bedroom.