#rosiewatson

[rossie90]

Hello : )

[todoroki-simp26]

What soulmate, Sher?

Rosie asking Sherlock what is soul mate? (Click link for video with johnlock) Sherlock doing soul mate speech. when he finishes. John outside the door and drops his shopping cause he knows that Sherlock was talking about them. How john discovers Sherlock is in love with him. (Writers, go!)

[the-case-book-of-fanfiction]

First Steps

A Sherlockian Story

Summary: Rosie walks!

Warnings: flufffffffff

1,363 words

Thursday was a dreary day. Torrential rain left London in shades of grey and black, puddles lining the sidewalks. Few people were out and about, and those who were kept their heads low and tucked under umbrellas.

Rain splattered against the windows of 221B Baker Street, the people inside ignoring it quite easily.

John was sleeping after a long night up with Rosie. Sherlock was watching crap telly with Rosie in his lap. Gwynn was reading a book on the sofa.

Nearing the emotional end of her book, Gwynn slipped her bookmark between the pages and stood, stretched, made herself a cup of tea, and sat back down. She reopened her book and continued to read.

This had been the pattern with which the occupants of 221B had been living for the past few days as the rain continued down, never letting up for the past thirty nine hours.

It was a lazy living, but no one seemed to mind. Though Sherlock’s mind was scratching itself raw, he was pleased Gwynn had taken a pause from her frantic, fast-paced life as she worked to get her book published. Gwynn and John were pleased that Sherlock was sleeping and John was happy to spend the days with Rosie, handful as she could be.

The only sound in the flat was the sound of the rain pattering on the windows and the low volume of the telly. Rosie had long since fallen asleep in Sherlock’s lap, her head resting on his chest.

Sherlock yawned noiselessly and blinked himself back from the verge of sleep. He looked down at the little girl asleep on his chest, then back to the telly. He mindlessly stroked the soft hair on Rosie’s head.

No less than thirty minutes passed before Gwynn finished her book, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

She loved the series, but hated the end of every book—all of which ended with a tear-jerking death or memory. There was never a hopeful ending...but she couldn’t the series down.

Rubbing at her eyes, Gwynn returned the book to its spot on the shelves and pulled out the next one. She plopped back down on the shelf and opened to the first page.

It didn’t take long for Rosie to wake with a cry, jolting Gwynn from her book and Sherlock from the boredom-induced tiredness he was falling into.

Sherlock, however, had become quite good with Rosie. It didn’t take him long to stop her crying and to get her to settle down with her head on his shoulder yet again.

“She’s stealing you from me,” Gwynn teased.

“Hmm?”

Gwynn stood and kissed Sherlock’s cheek. “She loves to sleep on your shoulder.” She fondly rubbed Rosie’s back and the little girl cooed softly, her hand gripping Gwynn’s finger. “I used to sleep on your shoulder when we were in Uni. She’s stolen my favorite spot.”

“Is my shoulder really your favorite part of me?”

“No, that’ll be your magnificent mind, darling,” Gwynn purred. “Apple? Fruit of any kind?”

“No. Also, I meant physically.” He looked up at her expectantly, waiting for an answer.

Gwynn smiled as she walked to the kitchen. “No contest.”

“Really? Then what?”

There was a smug smirk on her face as Gwynn walked back over to him, an apple in hand. “If you want the simple one, your eyes.” She tilted his head up so she could observe them. “Those beautiful pools I could get lost in for hours.”

“And what if I said I wanted the not-so-simple one?”

Gwynn walked around to behind and put a hand on his back. Her voice soft, she said, “The back that bears scars. The back that shows your loyalty and friendship.” 

Sherlock turned his head so he could see Gwynn. Their eyes met and there was a kind smile crinkling the corners of her eyes. Her eyes, the eyes Sherlock believed to be a masterpiece—a small, thin gold ring wrapped in a thicker band of blue, searched him for a reaction.

Reaching up with the arm Rosie wasn’t laying on, Sherlock placed his hand on the back of Gwynn’s neck, bringing her head down to him. They lightly touched their lips together. Sherlock was tempted to make the chaste kiss much more passionate when Rosie started to flail and her hand smacked him in the jaw—hard.

Sherlock hissed and brought his head down, massaging his jaw. Gwynn picked up Rosie.

“Shh!” Rosie squeaked, reaching for him, the noise the closest she had come to saying his name thus far.

“You alright?” Gwynn asked.

“Yes,” Sherlock sighed. “Just...surprised.”

“Shh!” 

Gwynn sighed and returned Rosie to Sherlock’s arms. “I told you, she’s stealing you from me!”

Sherlock laughed. “She’s not the one that clings to me and wraps her legs around my waist when I’m actually trying to sleep though.”

“‘When you’re trying to sleep,’“ Gwynn snorted. “You mean when I bully you into laying down with me and I have to trap you in bed!”

“Same difference.”

“It is not!”

Sherlock grinned. “Before you work yourself up and get mad at me, can I have my kiss now?”

Gwynn rolled her eyes but leaned in, letting his lips capture hers, letting his tongue claim her. When he finally withdrew with a light smile on his face, Gwynn rolled her eyes in feigned annoyance with him, even though she was pleased by how long the kiss had lasted. 

“You’ve got your kiss, now I’m going to wake John,” she said, disappearing up the stairs.

Sherlock smiled a Rosie. “Hello, there, my dear Watson. Waking up finally?” The little girl gurgled and reached for the floor. He smiled. “Alright, you can go on the floor.” He gently set her down, stood and stretched. He yawned and rolled his shoulders back.

His spine and shoulders popped, the crack louder in his ears that those of his knuckles. He waited until John—still tired but less so than hours before—stumbled into the living room and plopped down into his chair before tramping to the bathroom.

/

While Sherlock washed his hands, a commotion came from the living room. There was an exclamation of surprise and joy from John and laughter.

“Sherlock! Hurry up, you gotta see this!” Gwynn called.

Opening the door, Sherlock saw what they were so happy about—Rosie was walking!

Gwynn was holding a camera, recording the whole thing. John was crouched close by with the biggest grin on his face. He looked up at Sherlock and the detective returned his grin with a nod of happiness.

Sherlock got closer and sat down on the floor a ways away from Rosie. “Come here, Rosie! Come here!”

“Can you go to Sher, Rosie-girl? Get to Sherlocket, Rosie!”

“Gwee!” Rosie giggled and started crawling to Gwynn.

“No, no, no,” John laughed, “Sherlock, Rosie, get Sherlock.”

“Ah?”

“Sherlock,” Gwynn explained, walking to Sherlock but keeping her phone camera pointed at Rosie. “Come on, walk to Uncle Sherlock!”

“Uncle?” Sherlock asked incredulously, giving his girlfriend a weird look.

Gwynn grinned.

John laughed. “Oh, you’re staying as her uncle.”

Sherlock gave Gwynn a flat look, but both John and Gwynn could see the delight in his gaze. “Thank you very much.” His voice was just as dry, but Gwynn could hear the real gratitude beneath.

Rosie started to stumble toward them, her steps wobbly and unsure. John joined the other two and they cheered her on, encouraging her. She beamed at them, her little grin wide and adorable.

And at last, she tottered over to Sherlock and fell into his lap. She looked up at him with her tiny, clear eyes, which crinkled with a smile.

“You did it!” John cried, ecstatic. He swooped his daughter into his arms and danced her about in air.

/

John, the proud father, showed everyone he came across the video Gwynn had taken. Mrs. Hudson became something of a proud grandmother. Lestrade and Molly both asked repeatedly to watch the video. John even showed it countless times to Tell, Eunice, and several other of Gwynn’s friends from school.

And Uncle Sherlock was very proud some of Rosie’s first steps had been taken so she could get to him.

[beefboyrights]

honestly i dont get why ppl ship jonhlock ?? scrap that, i do get it but at the same time i know its never gonna happen so im contempt with what we have, two dramatic-asfuck best friends solving crimes ,, and rosie , and like i may not ship them but im so soft for the idea of sherlock helping raise rosie ,like??? my heart?? its melting????

[flo-rida]

I head cannon that Rosie calls Sherlock papa and John daddy.

[iamsherlockedseason5-blog]

School

Teacher: What is your family like?

Normal kid: My mommy is a firewoman and my daddy is a doctor

Rosie Watson: My mom was an assassin. She died. I live with my daddy who's an ex-soldier and my not-uncle Sherlock who's a detective. I like Sherlock.

[destilock]

John: *texts Sherlock* I miss you, send me pics? Sherlock: *sends dick pic* John: ...of you and Rosie, Sherlock.

[therealgraylady]

Imagine:

Rosie asking Sherlock to officially adopt her by giving him the papers for Christmas