Inspired by an adorable sketch of John, Sherlock and Rosamund I came across on Pinterest, written for Emily ;)

I hope you all enjoy it, I'm looking forward to your feedback, as I haven't written for Sherlock that much before!

Bedtime

"... and they lived happily ever after," John read softly, closing the fairytale book quietly and turning his head to glance over to where Rosamund and Sherlock had been cuddled together the last time he'd looked up from the page. He met his daughter's gaze and his eyes widened in surprise at the annoyance obvious in her eyes.

"Daddy, dad's hogging all the blankets and drooling on my pillow!" she complained loudly, her small hands curled around the edge of her blankets and pulling at them but they wouldn't move – they were trapped under Sherlock's arm as he curled into them, holding their daughter's stuffed teddy bear close to his chest. Only a little earlier, Rosamund had been under this arm too, but she'd obviously shifted away when he'd started pulling the blankets off her.

A soft smile stole its way onto John's face as he looked at Sherlock's relaxed features and heard his soft snores; it was a sight that he would never grow tired of.

However, that didn't change the fact that Rosamund had to sleep, and so he placed the book on the nightstand before leaning over, pushing against his husband's shoulder. "Sherlock. Sherlock, wake up."

An unintelligible mumble left Sherlock's mouth and after some more pushing and shaking, he finally opened his eyes a tiny bit, glancing up at John questioningly. "You're doing it again, Sherlock."

Wiping the drool from the corner of his mouth, Sherlock slowly sat up, mumbling: "M'sorry."

He shifted out from under the covers and held them up for Rosamund to slide under after he turned the pillow over. "It's just that whenever I hear you reading I get so bored I can't help but fall asleep. You talk so monotonously."

John threw his husband a glare while making sure Rosamund was tucked in properly. "Goodnight, Rosie. Have sweet dreams."

"Night, daddy. Night, dad. Can I have my bear back?"

Sherlock glanced down at the teddy bear he still had clutched against his chest and he frowned before handing it to his daughter. "Sleep well, Rosamund."