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What would I do without you?

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"John…"

"John."

"John!"

"Jawwn!"

It was at this point Sherlock vaguely remembers, somewhere in the very back of his mind palace, that John had gone to get milk. Sitting alone in the living room of 221B, Sherlock ponders what would he do without John Watson.

"Well… we definitely wouldn't have milk…"
With Rosie down at Ms. Hudson's, Sherlock rummages through a few old case files before deciding to pick up his violin and compose.

__________________________________________

John Watson entered 221, mumbling something under his breath about the evils of the self-checkout, as he began hoisting grocery bags up the stairs to his and Sherlock's shared home.

Once he begins to ascend the stairs, the music coming from inside becomes louder. It was a lovely composition, he knew Sherlock must have composed it himself. He had been doing that a lot lately. Composing between cases, composing lullabies for Rosie, and composing at night.

Those nightly compositions were the ones John cherished the most. From his bed, those drawn out notes from the violin would lull him to sleep when nothing else possibly could, keeping away nightmares of war and gunshots and certain people jumping from buildings.

"What would I do without Sherlock Holmes?" Thought John to himself, or so he thought.

"Your life would be much less exciting, I assure you."

Sherlock turned to him, setting down the violin, smug smile on his face, eyes gleaming. Once upon a time, John would have never thought it possible for Sherlock's eyes to do such a thing as gleam, much less thought it possible for him to be so totally enraptured by those eyes.

"Isn't that the truth?! But, to be honest, I've had enough excitement for one day. Self-checkout was hell."

"Another row with the machine, John?" John just nods and puts the milk away in the fridge. Sherlock comes to stand next to him, watching him as if he was doing something fascinating.

"What are you staring at?"

"Do you want to go to Angelo's? Tonight?" John chuckles at him and closes the fridge.

"That doesn't answer my question, but sure. Let me go get Rosie and we can go. Can you go get some extra things for her diaper bag? I'm sure it'll be empty by now, as long as I took in the store."

__________________________________________

The familiar aroma of Angelo's filled their noses as Rosie continued to clap and chant "spaghetti" (or as close to the word "spaghetti" as the child could get).

Angelo smiles brightly and leads them to their usual table, placing a small LED candle on the table. "Safe for the baby," he explains before going to retrieve drinks and silverware. Rosie smiles a half-gummy smile and claps, saying "fire".

Once food started rolling out, in which Sherlock did eat ("not on a case, John, the transport needs energy"), they fell into a comfortable conversation. Rosie slurps on spaghetti noodles, sauce all over her face and hands, John and Sherlock talk about the last case Sherlock showed off on in between bites. They insist on paying their bill to Angelo, even though he also insist it is on the house, and begin their taxi ride back home.
Sherlock sits with Rosie in his lap and thinks, "what would I do without John and Rosie Watson?"

__________________________________________

The night always seemed to hide demons that loved to chase John's good dreams away. But the soothing sounds of Sherlock's violin made him smile. Getting up from his bed, he checks on Rosie, then heads to the living room. Sherlock is standing at the window, but his eyes are closed as he continues to play. John gets lost in the melody and thinks…

"What would I do without Sherlock Holmes?"