#rosamund watson

[snadwich-underscore]

"Rosamund, dear. It's storming out. We can't go to the park."

[dontasktherain]

Angsty Rosie/parentlock hcs, bcs i cant let them live peacfully:

- No one in this household knows how to communicate their emotions properly. John bottles up and yells, Sherlock expects anyone to know what upset him all the time and their daughter is a combo of all of that

- Rosie learned about her mothers past. She knows shes named after Marys past life. She hates it.

- Rosie once read Johns blog. She started feeling sorry for mom. Has this man every loved her? He's saying such things about Sherlock. She never heard him talk like this about Mary.

- After that, in spite of John, she starts using AGRA as a nickname.

- Conversations barely exist. John asks Rosie how her last test went, Sherlock tells him she got a B. He knows everything, why would she even bother trying to speak?

- As a kid, Rosie fainted a lot. Not because she was sick or something. I guess children don't take sight of organs and crime scenes very well...

- As a teenager, nothing affects Rosie anyhow. Show her anything. No amount of gore will get any reaction out of her. She's seen it all.

- At some point Rosie started playing a game of how long can she hide different things from Sherlock? It started with energy drinks on her way home, through having first boyfriend, ending with tatoos on her back and cuts on her arms.

- She's a master at hiding stuff and a very good actor. Barely anyone can catch on her lies. She has it all planned. At this point having control of what people see brings her joy.

[buckingham-ashtray]

someday rosamund would ask sherlock why does he never calls her by her first name and he would not be able to answer.

[itsonlytext]

Restoring Balance · scene ii

"It was never black and white. It doesn't have to be."

as sherlock learns to leave the past where it belongs, his stomach settles and he comes to look forward to the new 'balance' that lies ahead in 221B ≈ 1800 words.

(read this chapter on ao3.)

see part one of 'restoring balance' here. love ya!

He didn't know how he felt about Rosie. He never really had the time to think about it; Magnussen, AGRA, Norbury, Culverton Smith and Eurus all fell on top of each other without a second's break. Rosie sort of just appeared in between all that. Without warning. (Well he had nine months, but that didn't count.)

Regardless of how he felt, it didn’t stop him from giving up the comfort of his leather armchair to her or playing his violin to lull her quiet or from feeding her when John was too tired.

“Apple.”

Sherlock glanced at the small sticky jar. He read the label. “Yes. Apple.”

She clumsily grabbed the spoon from his hands and shoved it into the jar. Sherlock helped her.

It wasn’t that he hated her, but it wasn’t that he necessarily loved her, either. He would die protecting her, of course he would, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to having her around. To being the Godfather. (The parent.)

He leaned his palms flat against the wooden table and glanced back at John, whose silver hair popped up from behind his armchair. Sherlock couldn’t see his face but he knew that John was falling asleep.

He turned back to Rosie. She grinned up at him. His stomach twinged.

"G'na up," she moaned, raising her hands high above her head expectantly.

Sherlock picked her up without hesitation.

"What do we do now?" he whispered.

She yanked on his hair.

"No, that's not going to work," he replied gently.

It had been a few hours since he woke up, since they came, since Mrs Hudson left tea at the table. Sherlock glanced at the half-eaten Danish pastry on the counter. Then he glanced down at Rosie in his arms.

"You alright?"

His head snapped up.

John had hovered into the kitchen, out of his armchair, out of sleep. (When?)

"What?" he asked.

"D'you need me to take her?" John clarified, clearing any evidence of sleep with a harsh rub.

He didn't respond. Did he look like he needed Rosie out of his arms? Did he seem uncomfortable? (Was he?)

"Dada."

"Yeah, here," he reached forward and took her from Sherlock's arms with a gentle smile.

Sherlock, more often now than before Norbury, wondered if John sincerely even wanted him to be the Godfather to his daughter or if he only did it to be kind, to make him feel included, because (at the time) it wasn't like anyone was suddenly going to drop dead. It wasn't like anyone was actually expecting him to have to do it. (He wasn't expecting it either.)

"We were fine, actually," the detective said suddenly. "I was fine. She was fine."

John tilted his head. "You.."

-seemed incapable?

-looked out of place?

-were so inadequate that I couldn't even fall asleep comfortably?

He didn't know what was more fitting. He never would. (John never did finish that sentence.) Suddenly, the pit in his stomach came back. (Didn't realise it had even left.)

"Erm, thinking of going to the park later," John said as he absently stroked the top of Rosie's head, such a subtle action, as if it came naturally to him. But it didn't. (Sherlock knew it didn't.) What did come naturally to John was something that couldn't be brought back, not without the idea of a child in the back of their minds to cushion the adrenaline and control the danger.

Planned trips to the park instead of spontaneously chasing cold cases - this is life now, Sherlock told himself as he tried to squeeze out the knot of awkwardness in his gut, to flatten the silence and accept that what he and John used to have wasn't coming back anymore. This is your doing. (It was never really Eurus' fault. Or Culverton Smith's. Or even Magnussen's. John just never stopped being angry.)

"Thought she could use the fresh air. I think we all do, actually."

All. John was inviting him to come with them. To join them. He was eyeing Sherlock intensely. The detective straightened himself.

Reply.

"Don't see why not."

John glanced up with a sudden change in his brows, his face relaxed, as if he hadn't expected Sherlock to agree to come along. He cleared his throat. "Good."

Sherlock nodded stiffly, pivoting on his heels, shrugging off his dressing gown and heading into his room.

This is life now, he reminded himself. No use trying to avoid it.

•°·•․°•·•°·•․°•·•°·•․°•·•°·•․°•·•°·•․°•·•°·•․°•·•°·•․°•·•°·•․°•·•°·•․°•·•°·•․

The park was opposite of everything Sherlock had originally predicted for his day - full of people (specifically children), loud, and entirely overwhelming. But he didn't say anything that would annoy John. In fact, he sat quietly on a bench by the gates and watched Rosie play as he ignored the awful twist in his stomach.

"How do you stop them from licking stuff?" John huffed as he walked towards Sherlock and sat down next to him.

The detective hummed, his eyes still fixed on Rosie as she toddled around her friends. "I don't think you'd like my solution."

"What, put a muzzle on her?"

He glanced sideways at John. "Actually I was going to say to follow her every step, but I suppose that works, too."

John didn't respond. He kept staring at Sherlock.

It seemed to irk the doctor, that Sherlock remained so well-behaved at the park. That he kept his tongue instead of complaining about an itch for another hit of adrenaline or something to satiate his hunger for a case.

Sherlock didn't move. "What?" He knew what.

"You're being.." he shook his head and laughed. "I mean, come on. Seriously?"

"What?"

He knew what. John's plan had failed.

"What.. What has got into you?"

Sherlock turned to look at him.

He knew that John had never actually intended for them to have the 'perfect family outing' at the park - to grab dinner on the way home and watch a movie afterwards. In fact, John had firmly expected him, when asked if he wanted to come, to refuse - to say that there were more thrilling things for them to do in the labs of St Barts' hospital or the halls of Scotland Yard.

But Sherlock didn't say that.

And so John had hoped that, in going to the park, Sherlock would have gotten distracted by something more thrilling and dangerous, trying to find himself an excuse for getting high so that John could tell him off (and follow along anyway).

But that didn't happen.

None of it did.

"No idea what you're talking about."

"Sherlock, this is ri- You know it's ridiculous."

John knew that after Eurus, Norbury, Magnussen and the wedding, things had (obviously) been different. He knew that Sherlock had changed miles out of the person he had once been on that fateful night in Lauriston Gardens. But John was beginning to see something in Sherlock that stopped fighting back for a hint of the men that they were all those years ago. Of course, it was always bound to happen, the separate courses of their lives creating currents of change - it was inevitable. He just wasn't expecting Sherlock, out of the both of them, to be the first one to let go.

"You have a daughter, John," he said suddenly, quietly, plainly. "Is it not in your better interest to stop being selfish?"

"It doesn't have to be selfish, Sherlock. I'm not saying we leg it all the time and tackle murderers, but.. There are other things." He swallowed. "Even with Mary, there was balance, we had it, didn't we? I think we did. I still joined you, every now and then. It was never black and white. It doesn't have to be."

Thank God, thought Sherlock. Because anymore of that god awful silence and his stomach surely would have imploded. But he didn't say that out loud. He should have said something, anything, because John was still staring at him, but he didn't.

Rosie suddenly came running on wobbly legs to the bench, her hairstyle undone, her cheeks flushed and pink. She was gripping onto a stick. "Look," she shoved it into John's face.

He tore his gaze from Sherlock and lifted her into his arms. "Lovely stick," he cleared his throat and stood up. "It’s getting a bit cold now, should we go home?"

She nodded, clinging onto his collar and smiling at Sherlock, who stood up and slung the baby bag over his shoulder after having come to a resolution on his own:

Tonight, they would go home and order some awful Italian food, whisper after Rosie falls asleep in John's old bed and perhaps dare to talk about Mycroft’s ‘political domestic’ until midnight. Tonight, it will be quiet. But tomorrow, they may find themselves interrogating drug lords or chasing rogue government officials. The edge of adrenaline would be softened, for they would spend fifteen minutes beforehand phoning Rosie's 'on-call' babysitter, but Sherlock will use that time to conclude an experiment or to look for his mini magnifying glass. (Lack of spontaneity doesn’t have to mean ‘no fun’.) They would find their balance and suddenly, they would be perfectly content - there would be no more silence and (definitely) no more stomach pains.

Suddenly, there was a shrill ring that caught them all off guard.

“Nope. That’s not me,” said John, patting himself down with one hand.

Sherlock frowned and glanced back. His phone was buzzing on the bench. No one ever called Sherlock. (Not unless.)

He picked up his phone and held it up to his ear. “Sherlock Holmes.” There was a pause. “Where?”

John perked up.

There was another beat.

Sherlock glanced at his friend.

He nodded.

“Ten minutes. We'll drop Rosie off at Baker Street first.” The detective ended the call and released a deep breath. “Ask Mrs Hudson to babysit?”

John inhaled with narrow eyes. “Drop her off without asking?”

Sherlock grinned as they began to leave the park, calling out for a taxi and waiting (rather excitedly) on the sidewalk.

Rosie, blissfully unaware of what was happening, gave her long stick to her dad once they settled into the cab. He twisted it around. "Are we taking this home with us?"

"Yeah."

Sherlock leaned back into the seat and nodded. "I think we can make some space on the mantle. Right between the skull and the Cluedo gun."

She giggled.

They would come to adapt to this new balance - the perfect blend of comfort and responsibility, to accept their life’s new definition. But there were some things, John knew, that would never change. (Calling Baker Street ‘home’.)

p.s. thank you for being patient enough to wait for this second part! let me know what you thought of it and feel free to make suggestions/ requests for my future works. love you lots.

let me know if you’d like to be (or no longer be) tagged.

tags: @helloliriels @dragonnan @strawberrywinter4 @with-a-ghost-mr-holmes @7-percent @totallysilvergirl @inevitably-johnlocked @meetinginsamarra @pressurepoint221 @gaylilsherlock @catlock-holmes @johnlocky @a-victorian-girl @astudyinlaura @nathan-no @peanitbear

[tjlc-hellven]

Johnny! There is no baby!

[demonicangeling]

FTH2023 for @chriscalledmesweetie

Digital art using Procreate. Please do not reupload.

Breaking my radio silence barely before the year end! Here's my FTH23 artwork for @chriscalledmesweetie based on their adorable fic, The Defenestration of Rosie Watson-Holmes (do check it out if you haven't read it! You're in for a sweet treat <3)

Why exactly is our little bumblebee being held out a window? (And by our hopefully not-too-menacing consulting detective?) Why is Mrs. Hudson smiling while looking on? No injured infants or volatile geniuses in this fluffy domestic fic!

(An earlier version did mistakenly use 221b wallpaper, which would have made for a very different kind of genre...)

Thanks very much to chriscalledmesweetie for bidding, and a huge round of cheers and thanks to all FTH creators and bidders this year! It's been a blast wrapping up the holidays and catching up on all the new posts and art.

Tagging (gosh it's been too long...): @jobooksncoffee @totallysilvergirl @calaisreno @helloliriels

[charlie-novakk]

so, I'm translating this Johnlock story where Sherlock gets kidnapped and has to choose either John or Rosie to live, otherwise both Watsons die.

but it's also a family drama. #parentlock

Summary:

Sherlock isn’t happy with the status quo at Baker Street, but he’s afraid to disrupt it. There's little to gain and much to lose. However, he’ll soon be faced with an even tougher decision than he anticipated. “There are things that matter more than adventure.”

[pigeon-tracks]

We had mollusks

Now I raise you

Nudibranches

[ceo-of-raccoon-toby]

Man, I might be a little obsessed with drawing this little babie 🥺 I love her so much though LOOK AT HER LITTLE MARY JANES

Also pray for my art style, yall. Nothing's wrong with it, it's just inconsistent lmao.

[tsyvia48]

I’m excited about this new Johnlock fic from my sister and beta reader @unic0rnsandmurder !

[mytranssnakes]

i need a fic of teen rosie bringing home a girlfriend and john being confused, totally not getting that its a girlfriend and not just a friend. and sherlock noticing immediately and giving her the dad talk, yknow the "if you hurt her-" one.

[snadwich-underscore]

Ay canwe get some mystrade in here

Lestrade: "You've never seen Paddington 2??"

*Rosie fell asleep within the first 10 minutes

*Mycroft being a sobbing mess afterwards and Lestrade comforting him

[dontasktherain]

Do you guys have any hcs abt Rosie?? I wanna draw her and wonder if someone's gonna agree with my vision of her

[slightly-brazilian]

Vocês já leram 'YOLO - Só se vive uma vez'? Minha mais recente fanfic de Sherlock está concluída e disponível gratuitamente no Wattpad! Uma história com mistério, drama e momentos cotidianos do 221B na Baker Street.

Acessem:

Sinopse: Dr. Watson disse certa vez que normal e bem são termos relativos quando se trata dos Holmes, e o mesmo parece valer para quem frequenta o 221B da Rua Baker. Rosie iniciou a vida escolar, ainda contando com sua babá, Audrey, que conseguiu um lugar permanente para viver além de amizades incondicionais e Molly está se divertindo com o comportamento atípico de seu amigo, estranhamente obcecado em estudá-la. Apesar das aparências, o cotidiano de quem convive com um detetive consultor, o único do mundo, está longe de ser trivial, pois o perigo está sempre à espreita. Se estiver procurando mistério, drama e algumas doses de romance, acabou de encontrar. De caça ao tesouro a um encontro de casais numa casa noturna com direito àquela primeira vez inesquecível, essa história traz o melhor e o mais intenso que se pode experimentar na companhia de Sherlock Holmes e John Watson.

[fluffishere]

she doesn't know about the twin towers

[tjlc-hellven]

How do you guys deal with real life people denying the romance, or being convinced that the baby exists?