Ripple
By: Raven612
Chapter 1: It's a Surprise
Disclaimer: Listen up, disclaimers are annoying to put in each chapter so it will only be seen here in chapter one! I do not own Sherlock or Watson; sadly, they belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and the other people lucky enough to own the character rights.

Summary: All it takes is one drop to disrupt and entire body of water. Watson arrives home late one night with a surprise in tow. Established Sherlock/Watson. Rating M because there will be lemons and lemonade!

A/N: Well, it has been ages since I wrote a new fanfic, and I should update the ones I have already, but you know how that goes…maybe one day I will finish one or two of my other fics. Anyways, on with the story and please, for the love of Mycroft, leave me a review! thank you!

I'm on my way home, stop worrying. I have a surprise.
JW

Sherlock studied the text message from John and frowned. In his experience, which was actually quite limited in the surprise area, this surprise could go one of two ways. It could be a lovely surprise or a horrific surprise, and Sherlock was leaning more towards the pessimistic view. He frowned and noted the time, half past midnight which was very late for his John to be out.

Earlier in the night John had gotten a telephone call from Harry and it sounded urgent. Sherlock couldn't hear exactly what Harry was saying, but from John's facial expressions, it hadn't been good. As soon as he had hung up, John grabbed his jacket and hurried out of the flat with a mumbled 'be back later' to which Sherlock's response was to hurry after him, but John stopped him and told him he had to go alone. Sherlock frowned at the statement, but backed off nonetheless. As the door slammed in his face he shot it a scathing scowl and turned to retreat to his chair where he pulled his knees to his chest and pouted for a good half hour.

For the first hour that John was gone Sherlock had immersed himself in his latest experiment, a study in how different air types affected the skin of a deceased person. Sherlock had been forced to move this particular experiment into the cellar of the building by both Mrs. Hudson and John. Sherlock still didn't understand their aversions to science, but he conceded. It was one thing to please John, which he strived to do on a daily basis, but Mrs. Hudson was another story.

After the first hour Sherlock sent John a text asking what was going on to which he received no reply. After an allotted time Sherlock sent another message, this time he was in their flat pacing, to which he didn't receive another reply. Growing uneasy Sherlock sent a message to Harry hoping that she might reply to him since his lover refused to, but still no reply. It was nearly eleven o'clock then and Sherlock was getting worried. He dialed John then hoping that the fact he was calling him would spark some sort of response since Sherlock rarely phoned anyone, but John still didn't answer. By this point in time Sherlock had grown past worry to full on panic. He was only moments from phoning DI Lestrade and ordering a manhunt when he had finally gotten a text from John. To say Sherlock was miffed would be inadequate, he was downright pissed, but he'd never give John the satisfaction.

I'm not worried John, merely bored.
SH

Right, and I enjoy fruit hats. How many times must I tell you that I'm a big boy and can
handle myself?
JW

Irrelevant. I just wanted to know what was wrong with Harry this time.
SH

No you didn't.
JW

Okay, I didn't, but you cannot blame me for worrying John.
SH

Well, no need to worry now love, I'm just coming onto our street, see you in a minute.
JW

Sherlock grinned at the last message and put his phone back into his pocket. He stood from his chair and moved to the window. He saw a pair of headlights turn down their street and Sherlock couldn't help the slight grin. It almost felt like Christmas morning whenever John came home from an outing, or at least that's the closest feeling Sherlock would relate the erratic beating of his heart and sweaty palms to. He'd never had a reason to be excited on Christmas morning, or any morning for that matter before meeting John Watson. Hell, Sherlock sometimes doubted that he actually lived at any point before John Watson waltzed into his life. Now that Sherlock came to possess this feeling, this emotion of love, he was going to fight like hell to keep it in his possession. Sherlock, the long time sociopath was in possession of love…but then that only extended to John and no one else.

Sherlock moved to the door of John and his' flat and stood there waiting. He was debating giving John a piece of his mind about his lack of communication or welcoming him back and showing John just what he needed, but then the sound of footsteps up the stairs made him narrow his gaze. Something about the tromping sounded off and unlike John. Sherlock concentrated, there was more than just one person coming up the stairs. The other person was smaller, much smaller and John's footfalls sounded heavier than usual, heavier even then when he is weighted down with fatigue. Sherlock brought his hand up and rubbed it over his face as he attempted to deduce who was with John and what he was carrying, and then it hit him. He took a step back from the door.

"Oh dear God no," he muttered just as the door opened.

"Sherlock?" John called as he entered the flat with a wrapped bundle in his arms and one standing next to him.

Sherlock answered with a glare when he saw Harry's twins come home with John, "Please tell me they're here for the night," Sherlock grumbled as his eyes flicked from James, asleep in John's arms to Annabelle standing next to him.

John frowned, "Sherlock," he started in a slow voice to which Sherlock groaned and turned away.

"Uncle Lock!" the little girl yelled happily and dropped John's hand and zoomed across the threshold and wrapped her tiny arms around Sherlock's waist and buried her head into the small of his back.

If there was anything in the world Sherlock detested more than anything in the world it was the two holy terrors Harry and her wife were raising. Sherlock stiffened and frowned severely. He reached down and pried the girl's arms from him and moved away from her, "How long?" he asked John as he turned to face him.

Annabelle stuck her tongue out at him before going back to John and wrapping her arms around his waist.

John glared at him and welcomed Annabelle to his side once more, "Two weeks, Harry and Julie have gone on holiday," John told him with a leveled gaze which delivered the real message to Sherlock.

Sherlock glared, Harry and Julie had gone away for counseling, that's what John wasn't saying, "No," Sherlock said in a clipped tone which meant that John had better get the kids out of the flat within the next hour or suffer his wrath.

"Stop being so childish," John muttered and set a rousing John on the floor and started to unwrap them, both of the children yawning wide now and rubbing their eyes.

"I am not childish, I just don't wa-"

"Sherlock," John snapped cutting him off, "I'll meet you in the bedroom," he continued in a softened tone and smiled at his lover.

Sherlock narrowed his gaze; it was unfair. John knew his smile would make Sherlock do nearly anything. He mumbled incoherent explicative's under his breath and turned towards their room, stomping much like a child.

John sighed, well, he'd be taking care of three children now he realized with a shake of his head. He returned his attention to James and Annabelle who were too tired now to put up much of a fight with him as he led them to the spare room. John had ordered Sherlock to clear it of any experiments a year back for the fact that James and Anna did spend the night every now and again, but the flat itself hadn't been entirely cleared but the children had long since grown used to the odds and ends the eccentric consulting detective left lying about.

God help him, John did love Sherlock fiercely but that didn't keep the detective from getting on his nerves every now and again, but there was something about the dark haired, handsome man that kept John wanting even more. At the thought John absently licked his lips as he tucked the kids into the large bed. He stood and leaned over them and pressed a kiss to each of their foreheads.

"Goodnight loves," he muttered and smoothed a hand along each of their heads. As he left the room he plugged in a night light for them and left their door open a crack. They were pretty used to the flat by now so John wasn't worried. He arched his back as he crossed the sitting room and towards the room he and Sherlock shared. He pushed the door open and found Sherlock already in bed, on his side, and with his back to John. John sighed and shook his head. He pulled his jumped from his body and peeled off his undershirt. Next he discarded his trousers and left them in a bundle on the floor. He grinned to himself now clad in only boxers and moved towards the bed. He grabbed the covers and peeled them back. John sighed as he got into bed.

"I am not happy John," Sherlock mumbled without turning to face John.

John frowned and put his arm around Sherlock's waist to pull him closer, John had to scoot up to nuzzle his face into the taller man's neck. He let his warm breath move over the detective's skin and his lips pressed against Sherlock's neck, "It's only two weeks Sherlock," John whispered and lifted his head to gently nip Sherlock's ear lobe.

Sherlock stiffened, he would not be so easily manipulated, he kept his arms firmly crossed and eyes glaring at the window, but he could not stop the shiver that raced along his spine, "No John, I refuse to have those monsters here longer than a night let alone a fortnight," Sherlock stated as he still attempted to ignore John's lips that were now dancing along his shoulders.

John just smiled against Sherlock's cool pale skin. "The time will fly," John reassure him and flicked his tongue out to taste Sherlock's skin.

Sherlock growled and finally flipped over to face John, he was still upset, but now need accompanied his anger as he wrapped his arms around John and hungrily sought his mouth. The kiss was hard and hungry as Sherlock dominated John with a show of tongue and teeth. The detective pulled back a little to gaze down at the man he loved, "You owe me…big," Sherlock informed him before claiming his mouth once more. These next two weeks would prove to be his biggest challenge.

A/N: Two author notes in one story, my aren't you guys lucky? Well, this is my first crack at a Sherlock fanfic to go along with the TV show so I hope I did alright. I have written a great many to accompany the amazing movie so I hope I did just as well with this one. Please let me know what you think! I am so excited to get reviews! I love them all so very much! Thanks so much for reading, be sure to stick around for all the thrilling details to come! Also, please excuse any errors, I wrote this very quickly while bored at work .