John: 28 Years Old

John Hamish Watson had never been a fanciful man. He had never believed in anything supernatural such as ghosts or those silly superstitions, but as of recently, he had started to believe in magic. A specific kind of magic at least, a certain magic called happiness. What else could make you travel through time in the blink of an eye, could make you so blissful and uncaring and content, could just make everything all around okay.

A year had passed since John had legal changed his name to Watson-Holmes and his beloved Sherlock had done the same. It was hard for John to believe that it had already been so long when he was still thriving on the bliss of the wedding. As their first anniversary came around, it nearly caught John by surprise and he was unsure what to do. He was saved by a case coming out of the blue and all other plans were canceled.

They had been helping the yard a lot more as of recently. Before it had been more of a hobby of Sherlock's, but after a wedding, John saw a shift and it became more of an obsession. Not that he minded, he really enjoyed watching his husband engross himself in the work he enjoyed, and it made him happy to know that Sherlock was no longer afraid of losing him, at least enough so to let himself get lost in murder cases and kidnappings.

A couple weeks had passed since that first anniversary, and a thought was starting to plague John's mind. It wasn't something he was quite ready to pass by Sherlock yet, as much as he trusted him. Sherlock could be unpredictable at times, especially with things he had very little knowledge in.

Flipping through the paper, he barely glanced up as Sherlock came swirling in from where ever it was that he had been with a familiar grin on his face.

"No," said John sharply, folding the paper haphazardly and setting it to the side. "No. We just got off a case yesterday, not counting the one you solved over the phone this morning."

A slight pout tugged at Sherlock's lips but quickly disappeared as he pulled John up from his chair and had him dressed and ready to go before John had time to protest.

"This case is of the upmost importance John, I believe that you will agree. It involves children."

John's protest of 'you say that for every case you rate high enough' was cut short as 'children' was spoken. He pressed his lips together and nodded, following Sherlock and his billowing coat out into the street where a cab pulled up moments later.

"So?" John asked.

Sherlock watched out the window. "Three children missing in the last week. All from different families of different standings. Ages are twelve, eight, and sixteen months."

"So young!" John interjected.

Sherlock gave him a quick irritated glance. "You should know by now that those who commit crimes such as this have a very loose sense of morality."

John made a grim face. "Any ideas on the kidnapper or their location?" he asked.

"There isn't much to go on, at least so Lestrade says. We're heading to the station now to see what they have missed."

John nodded and the rest of the ride was silent.

As they arrived at the station, Lestrade was there to greet them.

"We have 5 suspects, three of which are women," he said as he led them back to his office. "We're just fininishing up the interview with the final suspect." They entered the cluttered office space and Lestrade picked up a thick folder from his desk to hand it to Sherlock.

Sherlock didn't say anything as he flipped through the file. After a moment he closed it again and looked up to see both John and Greg looking at him expectantly.

"Anything on possible locations?" he asked.

"Yes, right," Lestrade said, rifling through some papers on his desk to pull out a much thinner file to hand to Sherlock. "We have reason to believe that they are still in London, or at least no more than a day's drive from it. There was a call to each of the parents yesterday coming from a payphone in the middle of the city. The kidnapper stated that 'there was no need to worry, the children would never be far away'. There is a chance that that was literal and they are somewhere close by."

Sherlock nodded and closed the file. "I can see why you could think as such, and I am surprised to say that you are actually correct."

Both John and Lestrade blinked at him in shock.

"Really?" Lestrade asked. This was the last thing he was expecting. Usually Sherlock came in here and ran him up and down with how wrong and stupid both he and the yard was.

"Yes, though I have narrowed it down to one area in London." Pulling out his phone he pulled up a map of the city and zoomed in on a specific area. "Here."

"How do you know?" Lestrade asked skeptically.

"It's obvious really. Each child was taken from a separate location. They seemingly have nothing in common. They were all taken at different times from different types of families. But if you look beyond where they were taken and where they lived…" He searched around the room for a larger map and laid it out across the table. Taking random objects from the desk he set each one on the area where they lived. "They all live within a 5 mile radius of each other. While they may not have known each other, it's possible that they went to the same stores, parks and so on, places where they might have been watched."

"So you think the kidnapper had been watching them?" John asked.

"I know they were. To take a child in such a way, especially of varying ages, they must have planned this out. " Sherlock looked up at Lestrade. "I would like to see security footage from the areas where the children were taken, I would also like to speak to the suspects as well as the children's families."

Lestrade nodded. "Whatever you need," he said.

Sherlock stood and took his husbands hand. "Come John, there is a person here I am keen on talking to."

It was well past midnight when John and Sherlock finally returned to the flat. Even then, when John woke early the next morning, finding the bed as empty as it had been when he fell asleep, he came out to the sitting area to find Sherlock still analyzing videos on his computer.

He didn't bother to ask if he had slept at all, he knew the answer. Heading back into the kitchen, he pulled two cups from the cupboard and put the water on to boil. A few minutes later a steaming cup of tea and a plate of toast was set next to Sherlock. The consulting detective looked up in shock, clearly having been oblivious to any signs of movement on John's end.

"Don't argue, just eat and have some tea. It won't slow you down it will help, it's just toast and tea."

Sherlock closed his mouth on whatever it was he was about to say and took the tea, sipping at it lightly.

John smiled, satisfied and leaned down to give him a kiss on the cheek before he sat down with his own plate and cup.

"So, anything new?" he asked.

"The suspects are innocent."

John set down his tea before he dropped it. "What? All five of them?"

"Yes, isn't that what I said?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes, but, who is it then?" he asked.

"I think I know," Sherlock suddenly pushed back from the desk, scribbled something on a paper and handed it to John as he pulled on his coat. "I want you to call Lestrade and tell him to meet us at that location. And tell him to bring whatever he needs for an arrest."

John glanced down at the address in his hand. "Sherlock, we can't just go catch a kidnapper without the police."

"Can't we?" Sherlock smirked and quickly disappeared down the stairs.

Having no choice but to follow after him, John pulled up Greg's number on his phone as he took the stairs two at a time to catch up with his husband on the curb.

They climbed into the cab as John told Greg where to meet them and Sherlock gave the same address to the driver.

When they arrived at the location, John gave Sherlock a confused look. "Are you sure we're in the right place?" he asked.

"Don't be stupid, John, of course we are."

John frowned and looked up at rather ordinary white house. It didn't look like the sort of place a kidnapper would be at all. But then again, what did he know?

Sherlock was already knocking casually on the door when John caught up with him. Taking his hand, John couldn't help but feel surprised when the door actually opened.

"Ms. Burry! So nice to meet you. My name is Sherlock and this is my husband, John. Would you mind if we came in?"

Ms. Burry was a beady-eyed woman in around her late thirties. She was nervous looking, her eyes darting between the two men. The door was open and they could see clearly into her home, but her hand gripped the wood, ready to slam the door at any moment. Even to someone like John, who wasn't nearly as observant as his husband, it was clear she was uncomfortable with them there.

"I would much prefer it if you just left, thank you," she said, quickly closing the door.

John caught it, his face stony. "I think it would be better if you just let us in."

He stared at her a moment and she stared back, her breath barely passing her lips. Finally after a moment, she stepped back and let them pass the threshold.

The two men smiled and thanked her as they stepped into the living room.

"Where are they?" John asked.

Ms. Burry turned and looked at them in shock, as John glanced over, seeing the familiar flicker in Sherlock's eyes as he examined the area.

"Check the rooms down stairs, turn left and the door will be on your right," Sherlock said.

John nodded, glancing between him and the woman before jogging off down the hall.

"You can't have them! " he heard the woman cry as he found the door. "They're mine!"

"There is no point in arguing, Ms. Burry. The police will be here in a matter of minutes and…" Sherlock's voice faded out as he descended the stairs.

The room was dark and chilled. It took some fumbling but John finally found the switch, revealing a wide room cluttered with storage bins and laundry. Nothing seemed suspicious, but there was also a disappointing lack of children. Frowning, John moved about the room looking for any sign of the kidnapped children.

After several minutes, he finally pushed away a stack of bins to reveal a metal door. Grabbing the handle and pulling, it rattled slightly, but refused to open. Scowling he knocked on it and then pressed his ear up against the cool, rusted metal.

From the other side, there was some whimpering. It was faint, but definitely there.

John pulled back and called for them to hold on before looking around the room for something to open the door with. He found a crowbar next to the washer and managed to pry the door open. There was a cry from inside as the door broke free and staring at him from a well-furnished children's bedroom was the three children they were looking for.

There were footsteps on the stairs behind John and moments later the children were scooped up in the arms of the Scotland Yard. The baby was shoved into John's arms by a man he didn't recognize and he was moved upstairs with the rest of the group.

He looked down at the child, its wide blue eyes and pale skin and couldn't help but smile. It was a miracle they were all unharmed. Actually, they seemed well cared for, if you excluded the fact they were kidnapped and locked up.

Entering the sitting room and handing the child off once more he searched the room for Sherlock only to find him on the couch with a towel wrapped ice pack to his forehead.

"What happened?" he asked in shock, rushing forward and pulling the towel away to see a nasty red gash across his temple.

Sherlock scowled and refused to meet John's eyes. "She was quicker than I expected. I tripped and hit my head on the table. Really it's nothing, just a little scratch."

"Just a little—" John scoffed before shaking his head in disbelief. "C'mon, let's go home." He leaned forward and kissed his husband before taking his hand and pulling him from the couch. Sherlock set the ice and towel aside and without hesitation followed John out of the house.

A couple weeks passed and the news of the missing children now found was finally starting to die down. It was one of those rare days where they were allowed to just sit around, relax, and do nothing. They were times that were few and far between, times that John couldn't help but enjoy a little more than others because he got to spend time just being with Sherlock. Breathing him, holding him, absorbing him. Even now he was content, Sherlock's head in his lap as he ran his fingers through those black curls and traced them over those sharp cheek bones.

It had been silent for a while now. Honestly, John had long lost track of time. Sherlock's eyes were closed and John was lost in thought, caught in internal conflict.

"Tell me what's on your mind John," Sherlock said softly, his eyes still closed, his hands folded on his chest.

"Hm?" asked John, taken by surprised by the broken silence.

"You know how I feel about repeating myself John," Sherlock muttered, he tried to sound annoyed but fell short.

"Oh, well…" John was silent for a moment, before taking a deep breath. It was now or never and it was never good to beat around the bush with Sherlock. "Sherlock, I want a child."

The silence was almost painful as Sherlock laid absolutely still, barely even breathing.

Suddenly he sat up. "Tea?" he asked, pushing up from the couch.

John frowned. "Sherlock, did you not hear me?" he asked.

"Don't be stupid John, of course I did, I'm not deaf."

"So that's your answer then, tea?"

"I'm not sure what else you expected."

John glared, "I don't know, something more on topic. Something more along the lines of 'sure John, I would love kids'. We could at least discuss the pros and cons instead of you just totally blowing me off like this!"

Sherlock didn't look at John as he moved around the kitchen. "There really isn't anything to discuss John."

"Of course there's something to discuss! Like why you're avoiding the subject!" John stepped in front of his husband, forcing the taller man to finally face him.

"I'm not avoiding it John. You want children, I don't. I was unaware that I had to spell it out for you, I really thought it was quite obvious."

John's jaw dropped, he wasn't sure how to react to such a statement. Anger, disbelief, hurt, offense all swirled around inside him before he finally threw his hands up and stepped away. "Fine. We won't talk about it anymore. Sorry, my mistake."

He turned on his heel and headed back into the sitting room where he grabbed his coat off the rack and pulled it on.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock asked.

"Out," John answered sharply heading down the stairs. "Don't follow me."

Sherlock stopped his hand on his coat and stood frozen while he listened to the door shut below.

John entered the coffee shop, a little damp from the slight shower. Flicking his gaze around he smiled once he saw Molly sitting in the back corner.

"Thank you for coming," John said, pulling out a chair and sitting across from the woman.

"Oh it's no problem John, I'm off today anyways," she said with a gentle smile. "What's up?"

John sighed, "Sherlock—"

"Can I take your order sir?"

John looked up to meet eyes with a smiling waitress.

"Oh, um, just coffee for me, thanks," he said, handing her back the menu.

"Same for me," Molly added, doing the same.

The waitress nodded and after noting that she would be back in a minute, she left to go place their order.

The table was silent for a long moment as John stared down at his hands folded on the table.

"Sherlock doesn't want kids," he finally said.

Molly frowned. "And you do." It was a statement, not a question.

"Of course I do!" he said, a little harsher than he intended. He let out a deep sigh. "I don't know what to do. I've always wanted kids, even falling in love with Sherlock I dreamed of raising a son or a daughter with him. I want to respect him and his wishes, but it's hard when something like this means so much to me."

Molly reached out and placed her hand atop his. "Did you tell him?" she asked.

He shook his head. "You know him, he doesn't understand things like that."

"Perhaps you should."

John was silent. He knew she was right, he only wished that it was that easy.

The conversation lasted for almost an hour, and afterwards, John didn't go straight home. Instead, he wandered the streets , thinking over what Molly had said and what he needed to say to Sherlock. He knew that his husband was probably home, (if he had listened and not followed him), waiting for him, worrying about him. But he wasn't ready to go back. It wasn't so much that Sherlock didn't want kids, but more of the fact that he was ready to brush off the topic like it was nothing. Like choosing a flavor of tea. John like chamomile and Sherlock didn't so that was the end of the discussion, they weren't having chamomile.

Eventually, John found himself in front of 221 Baker Street just as the light started to dim. Taking a breath, he opened the door and headed up stairs to his flat.

Sherlock was sitting at the desk, hardly looking up from his computer as John entered the room.

"I'm home," John stated pointlessly to the room as he hung up his coat.

Sherlock said nothing, and John stepped over to see what he was doing. It looked to be some report of some kind that was beyond John's understanding.

Neither one of them was ready to apologize, but they both knew what needed to be said. At least John did, sometimes Sherlock's idea of such a things was way off base.

"I want kids Sherlock," John stated.

Sherlock sighed and closed his laptop. "And I don't. John I thought we had been over this. Surely you haven't forgotten." He turned in his seat to face him.

"We haven't discussed anything! You made a decision based on your opinion alone with no respect for how much it means to me!" John snapped harshly.

Sherlock frowned, unsure for a moment on how to respond. "I do respect you John. I've proven so numerous times. I just think it would be better if—"

"Better if what?" John interrupted. "Better if we didn't have kids? Why? Because of our life style, because of our living space, and don't you dare tell me it's because you don't think you would be a suitable father! You are a wonderful man who cares more than he likes to believe he does and you would make a wonderful father!"

Sherlock stared at John, his mouth closing. He wasn't sure what to say now.

John took a breath, allowing his breath to slow and his blood to cool.

"I'm just saying that we need to talk about this instead of just brushing it off. We need to come to an agreement, even if… it's not to have kids. This is something we have to decide together. You can't go running off with your mind made up like you always do."

Sherlock stared at him for a minute before sighing lightly and standing. "I understand." That was all he said before disappearing into the bedroom.

There was a solid thud as John dropped several heavy plastic bags on the table.

He collapsed into a chair and looked at Sherlock in disbelief as the black haired man poured over something on his computer, hardly noticing his husband's return.

"You know," said John in playful annoyance, "I would have thought after all this time, you would have started helping with the shopping."

"There are things much more important I must attend to at the moment John," Sherlock answered without looking up.

"Like what?" John wasn't sure he bothered asking. It had been clear from the day they met as children that Sherlock's priorities were much different than the average person's. Still, the answer that Sherlock gave came as a complete surprise to him.

"This is the top rated adoption agencies and possible picks for surrogates. I also included what I currently have of Mycroft's background checks and the pros and cons of raising a child. If we decide on perhaps more than one child in the future it might be in our best interest to look for a larger place to live." He moved a stack of folders to the corner of the desk for John to look at.

John was frozen in disbelief before standing and moving over to flip through the files. As expected, they were all very in depth and detailed. He pulled up a hand written list of the pros and cons, of which included such things as small, dangerous living space, brave loving father, and child will have own room, proper education and protection from the government. Under both lists, Sherlock had written his name.

"Sherlock, why did you put yourself on both lists?" John asked. "And don't tell me that you thought it was obvious."

Sherlock sighed. "You of all people that I'm not the best of people to be around. Not the best… influence."

John wasn't going to argue that, he didn't completely agree but he couldn't help if it was the truth. He simply nodded and scanned the rest of the list.

"Sherlock, this is…"

"You wanted me to understand John, this is me understanding. If we're going to do this—if—we're going to do it right with all the necessary information. I even asked Mycroft and he agreed to help us with any legal issues."

"I love you," John whispered before leaning in and pulling Sherlock's face to his.

When they both pulled away, they breathed as one. John dropped his hands from Sherlock's face and slid onto his knee. "So, tell me about what you found," he said.

Sherlock explained the pros and cons of each surrogate, adoption agency, and taking in a child in general. The amount of information compiled in the last week alone was astounding, and according to Sherlock, there was more coming once Mycroft finished his background checks.

"So?" John asked, sleepily.

"We need a little more information, but I think we have reached some sort of conclusion."

"Good, let's go to bed."

"I agree. Let's go to bed love." He kissed John's cheek and led him to bed where he held him close and they both drifted off to sleep.

Sherlock: 27 Years Old :: John: 29 Years Old

"It absolutely astounds me that you actually agreed to this," said Mycroft handing over the paperwork to Sherlock to sign.

Sherlock glared, flicking his signature across the line. For a man who hated to repeat himself, he had uttered such a phrase multiple times in the past year. He knew that his brother had little faith in Sherlock as a parent and that little faith was only because of John and Mycroft's security. It infuriated him to no end, but he had already spoken his mind to Mycroft on the matter and doing so again would prove useless.

"Is that it then?" Sherlock asked, looking at the social worker and avoiding his brother completely.

"Yes, that should be it, they're waiting in the other room," said the social worker with a smile.

John smiled and thanked her, taking Sherlock's hand and squeezed. Sherlock glanced down at him and gave his husband a comforting smile. John smiled back and leaned up and kissed him on the cheek, more to calm his own nervous than to comfort Sherlock. He knew that Sherlock was probably freaking out internally, just as much as John was, but the taller man was much better at blocking those kinds of things.

"Julius, Emma?" Sherlock said as they entered the waiting room outside the office.

The five year old boy with sandy brown hair looked up, stopping in mid-sentence whatever he was saying to the three year old girl sitting next to him. She swung her legs off the edge of her seat, hugging tight to a worn, blue, stuffed rabbit. She didn't look up.

"Hey kiddos, everything's all set, ready to go home?" asked John, giving a sweet smile as he knelt down to their level. He offered his hand and Julius' eyes lit up. He nudged his sister and she looked up.

"We're going home Em's! For real!" he said excitedly. "Sherlock and John are gonna really be our daddies!"

She looked at him a moment before smiling. "Daddies?"

"Yeah!" said Julius.

She looked at John and then Sherlock and then back to John with the brightest smile on her face that John had ever seen.

"Daddy!" she cried, jumping off the chair and wrapping her arms around John's neck.

"Yes, that's right," John said, chuckling as he stood with the curly haired girl in his arms.

"Well, not officially—" John glared at Sherlock. "But all the same," he quickly added, looking down in mild shock as Julius took his hand.

John smiled in approval. "Well, shall we go then?" he asked.

"Yes please," said Julius.

They stepped out into the evening air climbed into Mycroft's car where the older brother was already waiting.

"Welcome to the family," said Mycroft offering his hand, which Julius stared at for a moment and didn't take.

"It's nice to meet you," Julius said.

"This is your Uncle Mycroft," said John. "You won't see much of him, he likes to only come 'round when there's a convenience."

Julius didn't quite understand, but he nodded anyways.

"Now, now, John, I make sure I make a visit for the holidays, and now I have a niece and nephew to look forward too," countered Mycroft.

John frowned slightly, but kept his mouth shut.

They arrived at the flat a few minutes later. "Here we are," said John, climbing out of the car after saying good bye to Mycroft.

Emma, still in John's arms, turned and looked at the large building before them. "Wow," she said softly, causing John to chuckle slightly.

"It's not much," he said, "but's it's home. One of my favorite places in the world. Let's head inside."

Sherlock led the way inside, John holding Emma in one arm and using his free hand to hold Julius'.

They all filed up the stairs and into the small flat.

"Welcome home you two," John said, setting Emma down on the ground.

The siblings looked around the room slowly, uncertainly. They took a moment before looking up at Sherlock and John, as if asking for permission.

"It's your home, look around wherever you like," said John.

They smiled and dashed off around the sitting room. John and Sherlock both smiled and moved to sit down on the couch, letting the two children explore.

Soon the room was lit buy electricity rather than sunshine and John called for bedtime. Emma and Julius wanted to complain, but they were both too tired to do any protesting.

"Can we sleep you with you tonight," Julius asked, once his clothes had been exchanged for pjs.

"Me too," said Emma from Sherlock's arms, which came as a shock to them all as they thought she was asleep.

"Are you sure? You have your own room," John said.

Julius nodded. "I don't wanna be by myself."

John looked up at Sherlock. Sherlock looked at the two half asleep children and sighed. "If we must."

"Yay," said Julius sleepily as they made their way into John and Sherlock's bedroom.

They all snuggled into bed, with Sherlock and John on the edge and Julius and Emma in the middle. It was cramped and John was sure he was going to fall off sometime through the night, but at the moment, he couldn't care less. He finally had a family, even if it wasn't quite official. He had a wonderful son, and a beautiful daughter that he was going to raise with the most amazing man he had ever met. It was an amazing moment, an amazing feeling that he wanted to last forever. And really, that was the most amazing thing, he knew, without a shimmer of a doubt, that it would.

Always.

Well here it is everybody! Finally done! I apologize full heartedly that I lied to you and did not get this out as soon as I promised. Some things came up and I just couldn't get to it. But, here you are Always by Your Side is finally, officially, finished. What started as a one shot is now my first finished, full length fanfiction. I am so happy to have all of you dear readers supporting me and reading along and to have actually pulled through on this. I have no clue what my plans are for the future (fanfiction wise at least) but feel free to send me suggestions or just say hi! As always, check my profile page for any status updates on my stories. Thank you thank you THANK YOU SO MUCH to all of you who viewed, read, favorited, followed and even reviewed my story. You all mean so much to me and I hope to see you again next time!