A/N Hello My Lovelies!!!! So, this one does have a song in it, but I just really love this song and think it is a great lullaby. (Reba is my fave female singer) Enjoy <3

John never knew what Sherlock felt about him, until one night, he was woken by Rosie crying through the baby monitor. He rubbed his eyes and swung his feet off the bed. It was three in the morning, and he had a long shift at the clinic tomorrow, but like a good father, he was going to get up and check his daughter.

"Now, now My Dear Watson, you are going to wake your father." Sherlock's sleepy voice came through the monitor. John froze, uncertain if he should go downstairs. It wasn't Sherlock's job to take care of his daughter. "He has a long day ahead of him, and neither of us wants to deal with John Watson when he is overtired." John settled back and listened, pulling up an image of what must be happening down there. He could see Sherlock cradling Rosie in his arms, checking her diaper and testing her temperature.

"You know, one day My Dear Watson, you will be old enough to sleep through the night. What a joyous day that will be for us all. Well, for John at least. I may not be in the picture any longer. I will probably be here, but you and John will have certainly found a new place. It would be impractical for you both to live here, when there are only two rooms. There is only one way that arrangement would work, and I am afraid that will never happen." John sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. He knew where this was going. Sherlock was married to his work. He had made that explicitly clear when they first met.

"Your father, My Dear Watson, is not gay." That wasn't what John had been expecting. Where was the lecture about how important his work is? "That wonderful man you are so blessed to call your father would never be with me even if he was. Oh, I think your bottle is warm." John's head was reeling, what was Sherlock saying? "You know, if you are hungry it does you no good to resist my attempts to feed you. You are cranky at three o'clock in the morning because you are hungry, so please just take the bottle." John chuckled softly, he loved listening to Sherlock talk to Rosie. He didn't waste his breath on baby talk or mushy tones. He spoke to her as though she were intelligent enough to understand his every word.

"You are as stubborn as your father, you know that?" John heard a clattering noise, followed by a heavy sigh from Sherlock. "Was throwing the bottle really necessary My Dear Watson?" John covered his mouth to hide the belt of laughter that threatened to give him away. "I have said this before, if you want to keep the bottle, don't throw the bottle." John smiled, it wasn't often he got to experience Sherlock's parenting. "How about a lullaby, how does that sound Love? I'm afraid I don't know any of the classic lullabies, but I heard a song the other day that may suffice." John picked up the monitor and held it in his hands, closing his eyes and listening to Sherlock's deep voice.

Midnight moonlight shining through the curtain lace

Paints a perfect picture on your perfect face

One sweet angel sleeping in my arms

You are the promise I knew God would keep

You are the gift that makes my world complete

And you'll never know how much I love you

But I'll keep on telling you my whole life through

Now I believe in miracles, and you're the reason why

So dream on while I sing you my angel's lullaby

John had never felt more in love with Sherlock Holmes than he did in that moment. This genius, that was the definition of a closed heart, was willing to get up in the middle of the night and sing to a child that wasn't his. This man, that was married to his work, loved his daughter with every fibre of his being.

"There, now isn't it nice to sleep? Let's get you tucked in My Dear Watson." John stood, he didn't know what his plan was, but he had to talk to Sherlock. He left his room and made his way down the stairs, still holding the monitor. He stood at the entrance way to the living room, watching as Sherlock tucked in the sleeping child. He was terrified, this was something they should have done a long time ago and he didn't even know what he was doing.

"The song was nice." Sherlock jumped, nearly dropping the bottle he held in his hand. He placed a hand on his chest and shot John a glare.

"You scared me, I could have died John."

"Sherlock, how many times have you told me-"

"Shut up. I could have Rosie. I just got her back to sleep."

"I know."

"How do you know?" John held up the monitor that was in his hand still and smiled. Sherlock blushed and turned towards the kitchen.

"How much did you hear?"

"You don't want us to leave." It was a statement, just barely whispered, but it stopped the great detective in his tracks. He shook his head, just the slightest action, but John was watching. "Well, maybe we can figure something out. Like maybe we can talk to Mrs. Hudson about renovating 221C so the apartments connect." Sherlock looked at him with a pained, hopeful look. This wasn't what he wanted, it wasn't what John wanted, but he didn't know how to say it.

"I suppose that could work, though I really don't know how, the apartment's layouts really aren't correct to join them-"

"Then I don't know Sherlock! I don't know what to do. I don't know what to say."

"Whatever you decide on, please say it quieter. Rosie is sleeping."

"What do you want me to say Sherlock?"

"I don't know John." Sherlock's voice was soft, scared. He didn't know either.

"You pretended to be dead for two years." John whispered, hearing the tremor in his voice. "You left me, and you didn't even have the decency to call me and tell me you were okay."

"John-"

"Then you were going to kill yourself on that plane, and just let me believe you were going on some mission. You were going to let me believe that you died on that mission when you really killed yourself."

"John-"

"No, Sherlock! I need to say these things. You let me beat you, then insisted that you deserved it. You let me blame you for Mary's death. You almost killed yourself just to save me." He was fighting tears now, trying desperately to keep his voice steady. Sherlock had stepped closer, looking as though he was also fighting back tears. "Jesus, Sherlock. I don't know what the hell I'm doing."

"Neither do I John."

"What do you want me to say Sherlock?"

"I don't know. I really don't John. What do you want to say?" John thought about that question. What did he want to say? He wanted to tell Sherlock how much he cared for him. How he had been asking him out that day at Angelo's. How every time they went running through the streets he wanted to grab him and snog him senseless. How a part of him died with him when he jumped. How much he regretting marrying Mary. How badly he wished that it had been Sherlock he exchanged vows with. He wanted, more than anything, to tell Sherlock how much he loved him.

There were so many words that still needed to be said, but John settled on an action.

He closed the gap between them and grabbed Sherlock's face, pulling the taller man down for a kiss. It was awkward, uncomfortable, and terrifying, but it was also fire, love, and pain. Sherlock was frozen, no doubt stuck in an endless loop of 'what the fuck is happening?' John let him go, stumbling back and struggling to breathe. Sherlock looked terrified, hopeful, and confused.

"John-"

"I don't know Sherlock. I have no words for what just happened."

"I might have a few."

"Then please share, because I'm lost."

"I love you." John felt the air leave his chest in a rush. Sherlock Holmes, the most brilliant human being on the planet, just told him he loved him.

"Sherlock-"

"Before you continue John, I have to compliment you on your child's sleeping patterns. She hasn't stirred and you are really not very good at controlling your volume when you are emotional."

"Sherlock."

"Sorry, not good."

"A bit not good."

"Sorry." John closed the gap between them again, pulling Sherlock into a tight hug.

"God, I love you, you mad, wonderful, brilliant man." He felt Sherlock touch his cheek gently and looked up at the taller man. His lips were met with Sherlock's in a gentle kiss. This one was nothing like the first, this one felt right. It was strange, kissing a man, feeling the stubble brushing against his chin, the firm, flat chest pressing against his own. John had never kissed someone who was so much taller than him, but something told him that he could get used to it. They broke apart when Rosie started fussing. They chuckled against each other for a moment before John stepped away, turning to check his daughter.

"So, we talked for how long, and it was a kiss that woke your child? She really needs to figure out her timing." John laughed, lifting the baby out of her crib and turning back to Sherlock.

"She's our daughter Sherlock, I think we are going to have to get used to it." Sherlock gasped, looking at John with tear-filled eyes.

"O-our d-daughter?" John froze for a moment, trying to figure out what had freaked Sherlock out so much.

"Yes, of course she's our daughter." Sherlock grinned and stepped closer to John, pulling both him and Rosie in for a tight hug. John leaned up and kissed the taller man, a slow, languid kiss that left them both a little breathless. "Will you sing for her again?"

"I don't sing John."

"Please, I heard you singing remember? It was beautiful. I think Rosie really loved it."

"Oh, really? Well then My Dear Watson, prepare to be serenaded." He took Rosie from John's arms and walked over to the couch, patting the seat next to him. John grinned and followed, curling against his flatmate and resting his head against Sherlock's shoulder. He fell asleep there, lulled by the knowledge that things had changed between them, and by the soothing sound of Sherlock singing to their daughter.

Midnight moonlight shining through the curtain lace

Paints a perfect picture on your perfect face

One sweet angel sleeping in my arms

You are the promise I knew God would keep

You are the gift that makes my world complete

And you'll never know how much I love you

But I'll keep on telling you my whole life through

Now I believe in miracles, and you're the reason why

So dream on while I sing you my angel's lullaby