It wasn't easy, but somehow they were managing through it. Arrangements were made, things put in order. John and Sherlock fought, argued, cried; it got so loud sometimes that Mrs. Hudson had to check on them. Neither one was pleasant to be around but they were doing their best and at least they were together. Sherlock would lock himself in his room for hours at a time; John slept on the couch because he still couldn't manage to spend nights in his room. Sherlock played the violin; the tunes made John want to cry as he tried not to notice the small violin in the corner that would never be played again. John turned the telly on and stared at it for hours but he never watched anything. Sometimes he felt numb; sometimes he felt everything. It was still hard; everything took such effort. He didn't want to eat or shower or clean; all he wanted to do was sleep. Sherlock went into drug withdrawal and things got even worse around the flat. John took care of him and he supposed that there was at least something good that had come from it; it was enough to pull him out of himself.

The night before Hamish's funeral, John sat on the floor of his room, a photo album open on his lap, looking at the pictures and for once feeling happy at the memories and not just an urge to cry. The picture John had taken of Hamish the very first day he was with them, the picture of Hamish sitting in the middle of his toddler bed like a little mouse the first day they took away his crib, pictures of second, third, fourth and fifth birthdays, Hamish's first day of school…it all brought so many memories. It did hurt John, deep inside, to look at the pictures. But it was a sweet kind of pain and he knew it would always hurt to some extent.

John had his fingers resting on a picture of Sherlock and Hamish, Sherlock stretched out asleep on the couch with Hamish's little body draped over him asleep as well, when Sherlock walked in the room. He was in his old rumpled pyjamas, his face pale and drawn; he looked unhealthy but he was doing better than he had been. He'd made it past most of the withdrawal symptoms and was on the slow road to recovery. John was afraid Sherlock might lose it; he hadn't set foot into John and Hamish's room since the accident and John didn't know how he'd respond.

John watched Sherlock carefully as he looked around the room, taking it all in with a sad eye before dropping down on the floor next to John. "What are you looking at?" he asked. They'd barely spoken all day, the weight of tomorrow's funeral weighing heavy on them both.

"Just pictures….."John said, looking at Sherlock before returning to their reminisces. "You two look perfect here" He pointed to the picture of Sherlock and Hamish sleeping.

"We both had the flu then" Sherlock commented. "As I recall, I woke up as soon as you took that picture. Hamish did too…and then proceeded to vomit in my face."

John laughed; what an odd thing it felt like to laugh. It was bittersweet but it was good, made only better by the fact that his laughter made Sherlock actually grin a bit. "So…..not really perfect then" John said.

"No" Sherlock agreed. "But then again, photos only tell the story you want them to" Sherlock flipped through the album and pointed to a picture of toddler Hamish standing next to a potty chair and proudly sporting 'big kid' underwear. "For example, looking at this you would think Hamish was actually easy to potty train as opposed to the nightmare he was." Sherlock smiled small for a moment. "Months of human waste everywhere…..what a nightmare"

John had to smile at it. "You know he was only a terrible child to potty train because of you" John teased.

"What? What did I have to do with it?" Sherlock asked, genially confused.

"He could have learned to do it in a few days" John said. "He did learn it in fact. He just didn't want to do it…..so he rebelled. He's got your attitude."

Silence passed between them; John couldn't bring himself yet to speak of Hamish in the past sense. His hands passed over a picture taken just last Christmas of him, Hamish, Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson. "God…I miss him" John admitted.

Sherlock paled slightly. "Me too…" he said simply.

It was silent for a long time, flipping through years of mementos before Sherlock finally broke the silence. "What you said the other day, John…when you picked me up….." He started, his words slow and careful.

John involuntarily tensed up. Sherlock hadn't said anything about his little sentimental outburst since it happened and John was alright with that. He knew they didn't need to hash out any rash decisions while they were so deep in grief. But now Sherlock was bringing it up. What part might he bring up? The fact that that he said he said he loved him? The part about the babies? John cringed; he meant it all but that didn't mean he wanted to discuss it right now.

"Yeah…..what about it?" John said cautiously. He looked over to see Sherlock picking at the hem of his dressing gown which he only did when nervous.

"Well…I didn't say anything then….." Sherlock said, stuttering and stumbling over his words in a most unlike him fashion. "I didn't say it then but….."

"It's okay, Sherlock. Just tell me" John said, seeing that Sherlock could get stuck in this rut for a long time. He really just wanted to get over whatever part of it Sherlock was going to criticize.

"I don't think I knew it for a long time…but I do….have a very affectionate care for you" Sherlock said, not looking at John. "For Hamish, it was easy for me to admit that I loved him. There was no doubting it…with you it was harder to see it for what it was."

John had to smile as color came to his cheeks. It was, remarkably, the Sherlockian way of saying "I love you."

"Sherlock…" John said, his voice betraying how deeply he was affected.

Sherlock's cheeks turned pink, looking away from John as if he was embarrassed. "Don't make it sentimental…..it is just the truth" he tried to dismiss the meaning behind his words.

John hugged him anyway. "You know I'm rubbish at not making things sentimental" he said, tightening his arms around Sherlock.

He was surprised when Sherlock's arms closed awkwardly around him. "I know you are…..and still I tolerate you" he said with a note of humor in his voice.

….

It was a beautiful day, full of sunshine and blue skies, the air warm but not the blistering heat that it had been; John thought it was no kind of weather for a funeral but nature mirrored the spirit of the little body that was being put to rest. John almost wished though that it was raining and dark, to match the bleakness of his soul. He'd tried to avoid this day as much as Sherlock even though he hadn't run off; with Hamish in the ground, it was impossible to deny that he was gone forever.

"I just was thinking of the little boys and girls that die and that they must go somewhere. I mean, they haven't even a chance to live yet. They must go to a nice place when they die…..to be happy like they weren't allowed in life yet. I'm not scared of it; I was just thinking on it."

John had to remind himself several times that day of Hamish's own words and put all of his heart into believing that they were true. It was almost worse when he had finally seen Hamish again; he looked so peaceful that he might have been asleep. John hadn't cried, but it had taken a lot of effort.

Now it was just he and Sherlock, standing by the plot that was much too small, the gravestone looming like an eerie omen. John hadn't even the bravery to look at it until now; when he did, it felt a burst of affection spread through him.

Hamish Holmes-Watson

January 18, 2013- June 7, 2018

Beloved son & Heaven's most beautiful angel

John swallowed back a lump of emotion welling in his throat. "Holmes-Watson?" he asked. It wasn't Hamish's legal name and he wasn't the one that had asked to have it on there.

Sherlock turned to John slightly, his hand twitching as if he wanted to reach out for John's but he didn't. "He was your son as much as mine" he admitted, his own voice unusually thick. "Perhaps even more so yours. It was a major oversight that I never made it legal."

John saw Sherlock's hand twitch again and he reached out to take it because he knew Sherlock never would. It felt strange but in a good way; it fortified him. He knew he should say something more about it; he knew that Sherlock knew how much it meant to him though and sometimes were best left unsaid with him.

The breeze through the cemetery, rustling the leaves on the trees and brushing back John's growing-too-long hair for a few minutes as they stood in silence. "Are you going to try to tell his mother?" John finally asked, looking at Hamish's birthday. It wasn't his actual birthday; it was Sherlock's deduction for what his birthday was likely to be so it was close. But since Sherlock had seen no sight of Irene since the night of Hamish's conception, no one knew really.

John could see Sherlock stiffen out of the corner of his eye. "I honestly have no idea where she is" he admitted, "I'm sure I could find her if I cared to. But she didn't care for Hamish ; she left him. She doesn't deserve anything."

There was so much bitterness still in his voice; John could tell he still resented her for leaving Hamish. For leaving him…part of him might always hate her for that. "I'm sorry" John said. It was inadequate but he felt so sorry for Sherlock that he had had finally opened up to someone for the first time in his life and had been betrayed. It no doubt left a lasting impression.

"It's alright" Sherlock said, with a little nod that made John believe it was. "I was given the greatest kind of gift from it; one I would never wish away."

John nodded as he felt Sherlock's hand hold onto his a little tighter. They stayed in a comfortable silence, as the light went down over the horizon, casting shadows on the ground, both pretending not to notice when they wiped silent tears away as they stared at the small plot in the dark.

….

Four years later….

John Watson was a happy man, much happier than he ever thought he could be again. It wasn't just the smiley, floating on air kind of a happy; it was such a strong sensation of happiness that he couldn't stop smiling and the energy of his happiness

Violet Beatrice Watson-Holmes….for so long she was nothing but a dream and a distant one at that. But now she was here; even feeling her weight in his arms he still was a little dizzy to believe that she was really here.

Sherlock had kept his word; after three years of waiting, they had begun the process of adopting another child. It hadn't always been easy, these last few years; for much of the time John had wondered if they would be the kind of parents that couldn't withstand the death of a child. A lot of parents split up; it spoke to John how much they cared for each other how much they had withstood it all and made it out on the other side. Actually, it was Sherlock who had brought it up ultimately. He knew how much John wanted a baby and John wasn't going to bring it up for fear of ruining it. The last thing he wanted to do was bring it up when Sherlock wasn't ready and have him say no to the idea forever. And, aside from the time that he had told Sherlock he wanted more children when he picked him up from the cabin, they hadn't actually really discussed it. And Sherlock certainly hadn't voiced his opinion on the matter.

So, it was quite a surprise when Sherlock had dropped the idea on him in a very shocking and Sherlockian manner. They had been sitting in the living room one night, John finishing a post on his blog and Sherlock was playing a beautiful and new melody on his violin.

Sherlock had turned from the window to come face John. "What do you think about calling it Violet's lullaby?" Sherlock had asked.

"Well, it's a lovely song" John had said, surprised. "But who's Violet?"

"Our daughter…..at least that's what we'll call her when she gets here" Sherlock had said as naturally as if he had been telling John it was sunny outside.

John had fallen out of his chair. "Our daughter?" he asked, picking himself up out of the floor.

"Naturally….."Sherlock said with that maddening smile. And so had begun their year long quest to adopt.

It wasn't an easy process, adopting, and John knew that. But he didn't really anticipate how frustrating it could be, especially for two men trying to adopt a child. And especially two men trying to adopt a girl; what about the poor child's feminine influences? Sherlock tried to get anyone who would listen to his insistences that John was quite a good nurturing feminine influence (to John's ire) but most would have none of it.

And then they had met Beatrice….

Beatrice was so naturally charming and likeable that they had both insisted on her child sharing her name; when she had declined, they had made it her middle instead. Beatrice, still a child herself at 15, was a kind and gentle person who had never even had the chance to think about being a mother. In foster care herself and living on an Estate, she had no possibility of caring for a child. And, through some miracle, she had chosen John and Sherlock as her future child's parents. She was such a darling person that even Sherlock seemed enamored by her and they would have kept in touch had it not been Beatrice's insistence that she couldn't bear to be involved in the life of the child she gave away.

It had broken John's heart to see her cry as she had handed Violet over to him as the paper work was finished. He'd been so conflicted, crying for her pain and smiling because of the euphoria that was exploding inside of him as he gazed down into that toothless little smile and those big, blue eyes. He was finally a daddy again…

So, now, by some miracle he found himself holding this precious, dear little life in his arms, watching her as she drifted off to sleep, as the cab took them back home. Where they would be a family of three again…

The only dark spot on an altogether wonderful day was Sherlock's reaction to the whole thing. While it had been Sherlock's idea in the first place, he'd been uncharacteristically quiet and passive through the whole thing. He hadn't held Violet, even when John had insisted and seemed to be avoiding looking at her even. It was almost as if he were afraid of her and John supposed that he could be. Or, more likely, he was overwhelmed by his feelings and afraid to show it while they were at the adoption agency.

It was beautiful weather, sunshine and spring air, as they stepped out of the cab. Sherlock, remarkably, paid while John got out of the cab, carrying Violet and the nappy bag slung over his shoulder. Sherlock walked into the flat first, John struggling to keep up with him. John was beginning to grow a little concerned that he still hadn't said a word.

When John finally made his way up to the flat, Sherlock was just sitting on the couch, staring straight ahead; John couldn't tell if he was thinking deeply or at a loss of what to do. All John could tell was that there was a storm of some kind brewing in that brilliant mind of his and he had to do something about it.

John carried Violet to the couch and sat down beside Sherlock. Sherlock gave her a casual glance but then looked away.

"So…..tell me what's going on in there" John said. Now that they were home, he could prod Sherlock to talk. While he maintained his stony façade on the outside in public, John had gone to great lengths over the last four years to help him open up and be more human at home. Mostly, it worked.

"What do you mean?" Sherlock said ignorantly, knitting his hands together nervously.

"Sherlock….." John chided. Usually it was enough to make him cave.

"Fine….." Sherlock relented with a dramatic huff of a breath. "I'm just….anxious"

John gave him a smile and nudged him gently with his free arm. "That's okay…I'm anxious too. This is a big change. But it's exciting too" he said.

Violet stirred in John's arms, spitting out her dummy as she stretched her little arms in the air. Sherlock caught the dummy with cat like reflexes and replaced it to her mouth. She sucked on it contently and seemed to go back to sleep.

"You want to hold her?" John asked. Honestly, he could have kept her all day, forever really, but he knew that Sherlock needed to start bonding with her as well. He hadn't held Hamish for nearly a week after his arrival and John was not going to let that be the case this time around.

"No….no…..that's…..okay" Sherlock said nervously, waving his hands. John almost laughed at how nervous he was; it was quite endearing.

"Nonsense…..she won't bite. Not yet at least" John teased.

Sherlock regarded Violet as if she was a bomb that might go off any second. "She's much too small" he said as if smallness was a dangerous quality.

John smiled. "She's not going to break" he insisted. She was much smaller than Hamish had ever been when they'd had him and the thought of him on this day hit John particularly hard. Hamish would have loved to have a little sister.

Sherlock didn't say anything, just continued to look anxious. "Here, I'll show you how to hold her" John encouraged.

"No…..I really don't think-" Sherlock tried to argue but John was already transferring Violet into his arms.

"Just cradle her in your arms like this and make sure you're supporting her head like this" John instructed, placing Violet in his arms. Sherlock stayed rigid, almost afraid of even moving.

Violet opened her eyes, stretching slightly before gazing up at Sherlock with her wide, curious eyes. John was glad to see a smile beginning to spread across Sherlock's face at the small connection.

"She's looking right at me!" Sherlock said, laughing with a glint in his eye that John rarely, if ever, saw there. John could feel a warm glow in his heart that felt like it was spreading between him and Sherlock.

"Course she is" John said grinning, leaning closer to Sherlock and Violet. "She wants to get to know you."

Sherlock cradled Violet, her looking even smaller than she was in his massive hands. He gazed down at her like the wonder she was; he was so rarely enamored by anything and it was a sight to see, even for John who knew him best. "Well, hello there" Sherlock addressed her as she looked up at him, each studying each other. "I'm your father…..hopefully I won't be too much of an annoyance to you"

"Sherlock" John chided him, elbowing him playfully.

"It's best she know right off I can be a right git" Sherlock said logically but John could see a touch of fear in his eyes. He'd had so many doubts after Hamish's death; he'd beaten himself up about all the things he'd wished he'd done even though John tried to tell him how good a father he was to him. He and Sherlock, like any other couple that had children, each had their own skills and duties as a parent. They worked together and they were both good at it. And the idea of adopting had actually been brought up by him. Though John knew part of it was to placate him, it wasn't entirely for his benefit.

"Sherlock, she's here because of you" John told him, leaning on him so that his head rested close to Sherlock's shoulder. "You wanted to bring her here and I know you'll be a good father."

"Well, I will try" Sherlock said sincerely, looking at Violet with emotion deep in his eyes. "But you know, your daddy is really the good one. He'll get up with you whenever you cry…..he'll hold you when you're scared…..He knows all the funny stupid songs that kids seem to like" Sherlock told her with a laugh. "Anything and everything that you'll ever need, he'll be there. That's why his name came first when I named you….you're a Watson and that's a great thing, you know why? Because John Watson is the greatest man I've ever known and he's the best daddy there is because he can love so very much."

John felt love bursting inside his chest; a compliment from Sherlock, even after all of this time, was so rare and this was one of the best that John could remember getting. He was not one for cuddling, had no concept of pillow talk and made it very well known he thought that any kind of 'sentiment' was only reserved for the most precious, special alone times, specifically near death experiences. Love exploded inside him for the crazy man who looked so out of place holding a baby but at the same time looked at ease.

"Sherlock…sentiment" John said, his voice dripping with emotion. Sherlock turned his head to the side and looked at him.

"What can I say? You must be wearing off on me…I don't know how to make it stop" he said with some humor. When John hugged him, he didn't even try to stop him.

…..

John might have waited to hand Violet over to Sherlock had he known that he wouldn't give her back. Sherlock, with his uncanny ability to ignore personal needs had skipped dinner and stayed on the couch all evening with Violet in his arms. John had to smile; he was glad that Sherlock was opening up to her now and he couldn't be upset about it. After dinner John had taken a shower, taking advantage of Sherlock's attentions on taking care of Violet. It had been nearly impossible to tear himself away, though. He could spend hours lost in the minute details of wonder that a baby brought; her toothless smile, her wide, searching eyes, the feel of her feather soft skin and hair. Just as enamoring was the sight of Sherlock staring at her, falling in love more and more by the second.

When John emerged from the shower, he found that Sherlock had finally left his spot on the couch. Knowing exactly where he would find him, John walked down the hallway toward the bedroom that had once been his but was now completely covered in lace trim and pink paint.

John found Sherlock sitting in the rocker in the corner of the room next to Violet's cot. Violet lay on Sherlock's chest, her head against his shoulder as he cradled her against him, rocking the chair slightly. As John walked closer, Sherlock's gaze slowly panned away from Violet to him. John knelt down by the rocker, smiling at Sherlock as he rubbed his finger along Violet's cheek.

"I can't find the strength to put her down" Sherlock admitted, unusually transparent. "It's like I'm afraid she'll vanish if I don't see her with my eyes."

"She is truly a miracle…I didn't think we'd ever get to this point" John said, grinning like an idiot as he watched Violet yawn against Sherlock's shoulder, making a patch of drool on his expensive shirt.

Sherlock was silent for a long moment before he spoke and then his voice was a whisper. "Aren't you afraid?" he asked uncertainly.

When John's gaze met Sherlock's he saw genuine fear in his eyes. It was such a rare thing to see that it made John's own fear increase. "I'm terrified" John said candidly. Any new parent who wasn't afraid had no idea what they were getting into.

John watched a war of emotions cross Sherlock's face as he tried to keep them in check. "I can't lose her like I lost him" Sherlock said, his voice a whisper. He instinctively held Violet tighter.

John felt a knot of worry in his chest. He'd thought of Hamish even more than usual the past few weeks as Violet's arrival date came closer. He'd ran through the gamut of emotions; feeling guilty at bringing a new baby into their home, worrying that they'd lose her too, being unbelievably excited. So many fears and so many anticipations…it helped John to know he wasn't the only one. "You know I can't make promises" John finally said, "but I can say that losing Hamish…was…a tragic accident. There's always a chance of getting your heart broken when you care about someone…..but it's worth it. Wasn't it worth it with Hamish?"

Sherlock swallowed hard before he spoke. "Of course it was" he said simply.

John smiled at him. "As it will be with Violet" he said. "We will love her and take care of her and make mistakes and I'm sure one day she'll grow up and break our hearts when she goes off to uni or gets married to some guy that couldn't possibly deserve her" John was glad when he saw Sherlock smile.

John stood up, standing next to Sherlock as he put his arms around his shoulders. He looked down at Sherlock and Violet; his whole world sitting in one small rocker. "The good things Sherlock…only think of the good things. That's all you can think about when you look at the future; it's all that matters."

Sherlock hugged Violet closer as he leaned ever so small into John's touch; he thought John hadn't noticed but he had and he smiled to himself. "Most of the time I'm right, John" Sherlock said with a grin. "But sometimes you surprise me by being a genius….and always on matters of the heart. I've just learned to go with it"

That's it, the end! Sherlock and John finally get the chance to be parents again :) Thank you to all who read and reviewed my story; I hope you enjoyed it!