FAST FORWARD

"On behalf of the City of London and myself, I would like to welcome you on this special occasion where Sherlock Holmes and Doctor John H. Watson will publicly declare their commitment to each other." As the officiant spoke his opening, John shifted nervously. He'd always thought he'd be nervous on his wedding day, but he never thought that he'd be getting married to Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock smiled at John, trying to comfort the older man without words. There really wasn't any need to be nervous. All they were doing was making their partnership legal in the eyes of the law. Nothing was going to change between them. It seemed to work because John broke into a huge smile and calmed down considerably.

It definitely hadn't been the most romantic proposal. John had been surprised when Sherlock had brought up the topic one morning over tea. The younger man brought up the point that as legal partners, they could take advantage of the ability to have certain rights they wouldn't normally have, like next of kin rights should one of them wind up in hospital. John hadn't been able to argue with Sherlock and agreed to marry him. Besides, they definitely were a couple. An odd couple, to be sure, but John wouldn't have it any other way.

Needless to say, neither man was surprised at the number of people who had told them that they were amazed it had taken this long.

There had been a small number of people at the ceremony and Sherlock, in a rare moment of kindness, had decided to invite Anderson. John never failed to smile whenever he passed by their 'official' wedding portrait. Sherlock and he were surrounded by their friends and family: Mycroft, Harry, Sarah, Molly, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, Donovan, Dimmock and… Anderson. Even more surprising than accepting Anderson's presence in their photo, Sherlock had leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of John's head. Caught on film and the perfect reminder of what their life outside of crime fighting was - a series of tender moments between best friends.

#

Much like their wedding, Sherlock was the one who'd brought up the idea of children. In typical Sherlock fashion, he'd prepared his argument before approaching John with it. He had spent hours researching genetics and looking for a surrogate who looked enough like him so that a combination of the woman and John would create a child that could pass as unequivocally theirs.

"I don't know, Sherlock. We're still running around after criminals and solving cases. It's one thing to be married to you, but a child? That's a major commitment. I work at the surgery, you spend hours at Bart's, and we spend a lot of time running around London. You leave your experiments all over the flat. Maybe we should start with a fish." John set his fork down and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I'm aware of what having a child would entail, John." Sherlock got up and flopped on the couch. "Did you even stop to think that I would be willing to make the necessary changes? Children are important to you. Therefore, they are important to me." He sat up and grabbed an ashtray off the coffee table. "Need I remind you I nicked this ashtray from Buckingham Palace because you said you were fighting the urge to?"

#

Sherlock put down the book he'd been reading to Hamish ("An Illustrated Guide to the Solar System") and looked at the boy sleeping in his lap. He managed to get them both out of the chair and brought the boy to his bedroom. Carefully, he lay him down on the bed, afraid to wake him. He still hadn't mastered the art of putting the young boy to bed the way John had. He wasn't sure he ever would, as evidenced by the way Hamish's eyes opened when he hit the mattress.

Once the boy was settled, Sherlock brushed back the unruly black curls and gently kissed the young boy's forehead. Hamish smiled at him. "Daddy Sherlock? Would you please play me my lullaby tonight?"

John pulled the violin out from behind his back and handed it to Sherlock. As he tuned the instrument, John tucked the little boy in tight and kissed him goodnight as well. He stood in the doorway and listened while Sherlock played the lullaby that had also lulled him to sleep all those years ago.

Sherlock stopped playing once the boy fell asleep and John moved behind him. Wrapping his arms around the detective's waist, he pulled him in tight. John held Sherlock's left hand, his fingers playing with the simple gold band that adorned the man's ring finger. He was unable to believe how lucky he was. How lucky he was to have this life, with this man, and their son.

#

Sherlock was giving John a foot rub while the two men watched the news. He'd had a long day at the surgery and then he and Sherlock had chased yet another cab through London. At least this time it was because Sherlock had forgotten Hamish's security blanket and not due to a serial killing cabbie. Sherlock had offered the foot rub as an apology and John quickly accepted the offer. The things those wonderfully dexterous fingers did to his tired feet blew his mind. It was a shame he couldn't get Sherlock to do it every night.

"MMMMMM." John hummed when Sherlock finished. "Is Mycroft going to watch Hamish tomorrow while we go to the Yard?"

"He insisted. Apparently, running the British Government isn't a full time job when there's an adorable little boy who needs a babysitter."

"Uncle Mycroft. I never thought I'd say that." John laughed.

"You've said lots of things you'd never thought you'd say. For example, 'Why are there feet in my slow cooker, Sherlock?' or my favorite, 'Did you just puree eyeballs in the blender?' Would you like me to continue?"

John started laughing and within seconds, Sherlock had joined in. John had to admit, Sherlock's laugh was still his favorite sound in the world. " OK. You win. Ready for bed?" John turned the TV off, stood up, and extended his hand to Sherlock.

Sherlock took his hand and followed him up the stairs to their bedroom. Once settled in bed, Sherlock kissed John on the forehead. "You're an idiot."

John kissed Sherlock on the cheek. "I love you, too."