John brushes Rosie’s thin, blonde curls off her forehead and presses his lips between her eyes. She smiles as he pulls back and tucks another stray curl behind her ears.
“Daddy?” she asks, laying back and allowing him to pull the covers up to her chin.
John chuckles warmly. “Because, my darling, I love you and want to show you.”
As she settles into her blankets, a crease forms where her eyebrows are furrowed in thought, an expression she no doubt picked up from Sherlock. John’s heart warms in the way it only ever does when he sees Sherlock’s traits shining through in his little girl.
“If you kiss me because you love me, then why don’t you ever kiss Sherlock?”
John’s breath catches in his throat as his insides freeze. Of all the things he expected to come out of his daughter’s mouth just now, that was certainly not one of them.
“Because you love Sherlock, right?” she stated more than asked, as if pointing out that the sun rises every morning.
“I … c-certainly l-love -”
“Then why don’t you?” she persisted, an irritated whine creeping into her voice as her bottom lip jutted out.
“WHY NOT, DADDY?” she wailed.
“Rosie!” John prepared to raise his voice as well, sensing one of her world-famous tantrums coming along.
“That’s not fair to him!! How will he know that you love him too if you never kiss him goodnight?!”
“NOT FAIR!! And it’s not very nice, Daddy!!”
“I’m going to count to thr -”
“NOT NICE!! WHY WON’T YOU TELL ME!”
John reached out to console his distraught daughter but was met with the world’s most Sherlock-esque pout and an angry pair of crossed arms.
“Everything alright up here?” came Sherlock’s familiar voice at the door.
Dear god … John thought, panic rising and sweat pooling at his temple. He could not have arrived to help at a worse time.
“She’s fine. She’s just having a -”
“How come Daddy never kisses you?!” Rosie demanded.
And there it was. John pinched the bridge of his nose. Although his eyes were tightly shut, he could feel Sherlock’s questioning stare at the back of his neck. Time seemed frozen in that moment, as neither of them dared move first.
“Why doesn’t he … kiss me?” His breath caught almost unnoticeably on the ‘k.’
“Ignore her. Rosie you need to go to sleep.”
“But you said you love him!!” I swear to f- “You need to kiss Sherlock goodnight too. It’s only fair, Daddy.”
John finally looked at his daughter. Rosie had that look in her eyes that said she would sit there all night with her arms crossed at him until she got what she wanted. Behind him, he heard Sherlock awkwardly shuffling from foot to foot in the doorway, likely regretting he ever came upstairs. John finally exhaled in exhaustion, not wanting to deal with Rosie’s attitude any longer.
“You want me to kiss Sherlock goodnight?” She simply cocked her head in response, her eyebrows still furrowed together. “Fine. Sherlock, come here.”
His stomach churned and he hoped to god that Sherlock would bear this with him in good spirit. The last thing he wanted to do was make him uncomfortable. Or worse, damage their only recently repaired relationship.
He finally turned to look at his flat mate and best friend, who seemed flushed and frozen to the spot. God, please Sherlock, just do this for me- for her. John stood and tugged on his sleeve, leading him to the side of Rosie’s bed, where she stared up at them in expectation.
He gave Rosie a pointed look as if to say ‘happy?’ before turning to Sherlock. Of all the times he imagined something like this happening, it was never in this context. His stomach flipped again as he leaned up on his tip-toes and pecked a quick, chaste kiss to Sherlock’s cheek.
Immediately, he felt his face heat up to an alarming temperature, butterflies swarming in his stomach. Glancing up, he saw that Sherlock seemed to be malfunctioning. He hadn’t moved an inch aside from his wildly fluttering eyelashes.
John relaxed and grinned. “Happy?” he said to Rosie. She uncrossed her arms, but the line of confusion remained fixed on her forehead. He pulled the sheets back up around her, congratulating himself on his handling of the situation. It went much smoother than he thought. As soon as Sherlock came to his senses, all would be back to normal. Now if he could just tuck Rosie in …
“But Daddy …” Oh Christ, what now. “That’s not how you kiss me goodnight.” Dread settled again in the pit of John’s stomach.
“John,” came Sherlock’s voice, sounding small and vulnerable. “It’s alright.” John released another exhausted breath and stood again. The nervousness he felt last time wasn’t there anymore. This time there was an entirely new tension present as he approached Sherlock.
He slowly reached up and cupped the back of Sherlock’s neck, pulling him down. Sherlock’s eyes never left his as he pushed a dark curl out of the way and tenderly pressed his lips to his forehead. An electric charge seemed to buzz through him at the contact. He lingered just a bit too long, feeling Sherlock tremble slightly beneath the touch. When he pulled away, Sherlock’s eyes bore into him with new understanding. The corner of John’s lip twitched up in response.
They stayed like that, noses inches from touching, John’s fingers threading into his nape curls until Rosie spoke up.
“There. Now Sherlock knows you love him too. Daddy, can you turn the lamp off please?” John could hear the satisfied smile in her voice before looking. She closed her eyes and nestled into the mattress as he turned the lamp off, leaving only her ballerina nightlight to illuminate the room. As he retreated, he gently took Sherlock’s hand and led him out, closing the door behind them.
They stood outside looking at their feet for what seemed like several minutes. Finally, John chuckled and ran his hand through his hair.
“Look Sherlock, sorry about-” he started, but was cut off by Sherlock leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to his hairline.
“I love you too, John” his voice rumbled just between them, a playful twinkle in his watering eyes.
His grin stretching wide and his heart swelling, John tugged his pajama shirt back down to press their lips together. After a moment of shock adjustment Sherlock stepped in closer and timidly gripped his biceps. John returned his hand to its previous place in his nape curls and placed the other one on his cheek. Their kiss deepened, and hands roamed cautiously, not wanting to break whatever spell had overcome them both. They kissed until a sleepy mumble from Rosie through the door caused them to break apart. Foreheads pressed together, they basked momentarily in what had just happened.
“Er, should we … downstairs?”