Let The Shadows Win

The Attitude I'm Hoping For

"Not that I'm trying to be rude, but where did you learn to cook omelets? Especially ones with, what are those in there? Peppers? You learned to cook with peppers?" John asked with an almost sarcastic applaud, to which Sherlock smiled a bit shyly.
"Well it's not too difficult, is it?" Sherlock wondered a bit innocently, not understanding why sudden effort in breakfast was worth this sort of interrogation.
"Says the guy who nearly burned the microwave trying to heat up a mac and cheese cup." John accused with a sort of suspicious glare, as if he was trying to make Sherlock feel bad for either messing up in the past or improving for the future.
"Well excuse me. If you don't want this I could always just..."
"No I'll take it." John interrupted quickly, abandoning his coffee cup so that he could stand up on his tip toes and strangle Sherlock gently from behind. He pressed a kiss to the back of Sherlock's neck in his appreciation, to which Sherlock could only giggle lightly and pat at John's arms to the best of his ability. After all, he didn't want to put their beautiful omelet in jeopardy by getting distracted.
"Do you think Rosie will want one?" Sherlock offered, in his own careful way of getting Rosie involved in what they were doing. Just so that she could at least feel like she was a proper part of the family, and not the deadweight that she was in reality.
"Not at this hour she won't. But when you wake her up I'm sure she'd love to have an omelet with you." John assured, finally untangling himself from Sherlock so that he could go over and grab the newspaper where it was neatly folded and ready for his reading. Sherlock never paid much attention to the newspaper, presumably because he was so outdated in what was happening in the world that he knew it was useless to try to keep up. He didn't know of any world news, or elected officials, or even if there had been any more world wars since he had been locked up! For all Sherlock knew of the outside world, which wasn't much to begin with mind you, it was all thirteen years in the past. And so the newspaper was useless to him, for it would be reading out what would seem to be foreign information if there was actual information at all. Yet he had to admit, those comic strips were quite amusing despite the time period. Yet John seemed to be entertained, at least with the sports section, and so he settled himself down like a proper husband, reading the paper and drinking his coffee with that sleepy sort of look that would surely earn him a kiss before long.
"John I was thinking that today maybe you'd want to work on our wedding plans? Maybe you could call in sick or something, and stay here with me to set a date and get a cake or something like that." Sherlock offered a bit innocently, walking over with a beautiful, sizzling omelet presented beautifully on one of the chipped dishes that Mycroft had left behind.
"Calling in sick? Why Sherlock that's so rebellious of you!" John exclaimed sarcastically, looking up towards Sherlock with a grin before turning his attention hungrily to the breakfast that was set before him.
"Yes well, sometimes rebellion pays off for the both of us." Sherlock pointed out hopefully.
"Why can't we just get this stuff settled on the weekend? When we actually have some free time? I mean not that I want to go to work, but we sort of need money." John pointed out.
"Oh come on John, you know that Mycroft's bank account can last us easily another ten years! Besides, I thought you said you were going to finish repairing the hole in the bathroom ceiling over the weekend?" Sherlock pointed out with an innocent little mutter, the sort of he used only when he really wanted things to go his way. John nodded, cutting his omelet and sounding almost as if he was only half listening.
"Well there's a lot of time in one weekend, shockingly." John added sarcastically. Sherlock sighed heavily, understanding that such a plea would be a lost cause if he didn't throw in some extra incentive.
"We could bond some more with Rosie, too, if you wanted. We could have an extravagant game of princess! She's always wanted a villain, and while she seems properly scared of me I always insist on being another princess." Sherlock said with a bit of a dramatic air, to which John cackled and nodded his head finally.
"You really seem to want me to stick around today, don't you?" John asked with a laugh.
"Yes, please John? It would mean a lot to me." Sherlock begged, bouncing around the kitchen before finally landing himself back at John's side. "What do you say?" he asked anxiously. John took a big sigh, shrugging his shoulders as if he really saw no reason against it.
"Well, I guess I'd say I have a nasty stomach bug." John said finally, to which Sherlock gave a squeal of delight and pressed a well-deserved kiss to John's lips.
"That's just the attitude I had been hoping for." Sherlock admitted proudly, going over now to crack some more eggs into the frying pan with a great big smile on his face. Suddenly the sun was shining even brighter in his mind, all while the world remained cast in darkness, as the sun in reality had not yet reached the horizon. John finished his omelet and decided the he really didn't need to get dressed this morning, and so he sat back and finished reading up on all the government drama in the newspaper while Sherlock ate his own breakfast. The two of them didn't talk much; however the mere fact that it was now past seven o'clock and John wasn't in a rush to go anywhere was enough to keep a permanent smile on Sherlock's face. Every so often he would look over to where John was obviously very focused on the newspaper, ruffling it out every couple of moments so as to better read the tiny words that were printed in that smelly, grimy ink. Yet as soon as Sherlock took to watching John, well it wouldn't be long until John noticed and looked back. For a quick moment they would look at each other, and with an exchange of awkward little giggles they would go back to what they were doing, absentmindedly considering just how happy they were to be sitting once more at their own table, eating breakfast in each other's company. It really was a dream come true to have John once more by his side, and it was only now that Sherlock realized how crucial it was to keep him there. The faster they got this wedding through the faster he would have every right to claim John as his own, he would have every right to nose his way into all of John's business so as to make sure that he was doing what he should be. Despite John's obvious disobedience when it came to wedding rings, Sherlock was sure that this time around he would stay true to his vows. For they both knew that John only had one soulmate, and it was soon to be Sherlock's duty to ensure that John remembered that for as long as they both lived. When finally it was time to wake Rosie up, John got to do the honors. Sherlock was left to start making another omelet for that conceited little princess, yet he knew that there would be at least a positive aura in the house with John's lingering presence. Obviously Rosie would appreciate his sticking around, considering how much she seemed to hate Sherlock's care, and Sherlock would be in a much better mood considering that he got to spend the whole day with John. And so maybe such positive attitudes could bring them somewhere, maybe today could be the day they actually worked out the issues between themselves, with John as mediator of course. When Rosie arrived downstairs she was still wearing her pajamas, those ridiculous ones with the feet attached to them that Sherlock considered to be the most impractical things. However there was a smile on her face, one which was almost enough to make Sherlock smile as well. Despite his hatred for that spawn of Mary Morstan, he had to admit that her happiness gave him at least a small inkling of joy as well. For she was his daughter, or at least she was meant to be soon, and he was already inheriting some sort of paternal irrationality.
"Daddy's staying home today!" Rosie exclaimed excitedly, sitting down on her high chair and wagging her legs enthusiastically under the table.
"And Mr. Sherlock is cooking us an extra special breakfast today!" John added.
"Is it someone's birthday?" Rosie asked curiously, her eyes narrowing in suspicion as she tried to remember if they were in any proximity to anything that was worth celebrating so vigorously. Yet John shook his head, answering for of course Sherlock couldn't, not only had he forgotten his own birthday, but he wasn't dedicated enough to remember either of the Watson's either.
"No birthday, just a day for us all to relax and enjoy each other's company." John admitted with a smile.
"We can play princess today too, Rosie. John has already volunteered to be the dragon." Sherlock pointed out, looking back to see Rosie's face turn sour again.
"Why can't you be the dragon?" she asked with a groan. Sherlock simply chuckled, poking at the omelet that sat before him and considering once more sliding some cyanide into it.
"Because John wouldn't make nearly as pretty a princess as me." Sherlock said confidently.
"He's right of course. Sherlock's much too beautiful to be replaced." John teased. Rosie seemed not to know what to say, and so instead she crossed her arms in a moody sort of way, scowling down at the table in front of her as if she wished it was Sherlock who would go off to work instead. That difficult child, Sherlock knew that something would have to be done about her eventually. Yet today he served a nice, delicious, and completely poison free omelet, as a symbol of his good intentions.
"Did I ever mention that I was sorry for locking you in the freezer?" Sherlock added as he slid the omelet onto Rosie's plate, to which the girl shook her head. Her frown was subsiding; however it had not yet become neutral. Such an expression was obviously derived from the delicious breakfast that had been presented to her, yet in all her childish pettiness she still could not bring herself to manage a thank you.
"No." she muttered simply.
"Well, I am sorry. Very sorry. I was locked in there myself, once. It was a terrifying experience, really." Sherlock admitted with a shiver, remembering the time in which he was left only to scream and pound on the frosted door, stumbling backwards into the company of the frozen dead. Of course it had been in that moment that he was told of Mycroft's intentions to kill John, and that night spent in the freezer was the most agonizing nights he had ever spent. For back then he wanted to protect John, he wanted to love John, and he had not yet understood his own strength. He was still stuck living as Mycroft intended him to, simply because he didn't realize yet that he could do something about it.
"What did you do to deserve that?" Rosie asked curiously, looking up at Sherlock as if just now interested in his life story. Yet Sherlock just chuckled, looking over at John as if accusing him for something he had no control of.
"I fell in love with your father." Sherlock admitted ironically, and with that he went back over to the stove to clean up. Rosie looked confused, yet she didn't continue on whatever fragment of conversation they had managed to have. Instead she went to her omelet, for it seemed to be the first edible food she had been presented with since Sherlock had taken over cooking.
"Rosie, don't you have something to say to Mr. Sherlock as well?" John asked, after observing obviously that Rosie had no intentions of sharing in apologies. Evidently she thought that she hadn't been in the wrong, yet the large welt on the back of Sherlock's head said otherwise.
"What?" Rosie asked ignorantly, in that sort of childish way in which she acted completely and totally innocent.
"Don't you want to apologize to him?" John insisted, only leading her down a path which would make her apology less sincere. Usually such things were better when they were not enforced, or scripted.
"I'm sorry for taking your walking cane and yelling at you and pushing you down the stairs." Rosie said in one breath, as if she had been instructed to practice. Sherlock merely smiled, a forced smile at that, for when it was recited over again the crimes she had managed seemed to be almost obscene, considering her age and supposed innocence. Yet he understood that there was a hidden force inside of that devilish child, he understood that looks don't always correctly portray the ugliness inside. Yet what else could he do but accept such an apology, considering she was a mere child, and did not yet understand the severity of her actions?
"Thank you for apologizing, Rosie. I accept your apology." Sherlock said formally. Rosie didn't seem to hear him, that or she didn't manage to care what he had to say, and she continued eating her breakfast as if Sherlock's words had been nothing more than a useless gust of wind. It was all Sherlock could do but look over at John for backup, and the man of course was no help in that matter. It was evident that John hadn't been very well trained at being a parent before Mary died, for these situations were usually those handled by the mother, or at least the favorite parent of the child (John was obviously neither). And so John couldn't see through Rosie's insincerity, he had not yet adapted to the lies and deceit of children who knew that most all problems could be solved through saying what you didn't really mean. Yet Sherlock turned away, deciding that Rosie's carelessness would be solved in one way or the other, whenever the future deemed it necessary to take action. Their day, which had been originally intended to get things done, was instead wasted away in the most careless of fashions. For a long while Sherlock and John sat together on the couch, looking over various wedding catalogs which John had used when he had first gotten married to Mary. Inside the catalogs were all sorts of venues, bakers, and caterers which would make any wedding into something of a fairytale dream. However the price tag alone was enough to convince Sherlock to flip the page, for while they did have money tucked away he still wasn't very keen on using every last penny to fund a wedding which might be attended by two or three people, tops. John seemed equally unenthusiastic, for according to him one fabulous wedding really was enough for a lifetime. Just for reference John had described his wedding to Mary, how they had booked a beautiful church and draped all sorts of white cloth around, and had bouquets of roses on the altar and whatnot. It had been a long ceremony, considering Mary was something of a church goer, yet John said that the dancing and the food afterwards was very much worth it. Apparently they had booked the church's basement as well, so when the boring stuff was over they had a DJ and food catered by a local barbeque joint, and so everyone ate wings and danced to whatever music was hip in those days. John talked about it with some enthusiasm, yet Sherlock thought it was rather funny that not once did he speak of Mary in a positive light. In fact by the way he told the story; you would be willing to bet that Mary hadn't even been there at all! That much reassured Sherlock, at least now he knew that none of John's memories of that woman were positive. Yet Sherlock didn't want a wedding so flashy or exciting, in fact he would be perfectly happy with signing documents down at the court house and going from there. This whole process consumed about an hour of their time, for even though they were technically 'planning' the wedding, right now it seemed as though they were merely establishing what they didn't want, and talking about a simple frame of what their wedding might turn into. Neither was religious, and so a church wasn't necessary, yet there really were no scenic places around here in which to get married. Sherlock suggested they could set it all up in the front lawn, to which John protested he didn't want the peeling paint and dead flowers to scare what little guests they had away. No one yet knew that they had moved into this house, partially because anyone who found out may very well condemn it to the committee of public safety, who would swoop in and kick them all out because of the structure's integrity (or lack thereof). And so come lunch time they were about done with what they had set out to do, and still they had a great many hours to waste. Yet Sherlock appreciated John's company, he felt so honored that John would give up a day at his terrible office to instead waste away a day at his side. Rosie as well seemed to be appreciate John's sticking around, however today she seemed obsessively clingy. Whenever Sherlock would try to steer John away so as to get some privacy, or even when he attempted to start a conversation, Rosie would swoop in and gather her father for the most meaningless of tasks or discussions. At one point Sherlock asked over lunch if John would be inviting his sister to the wedding, and Rosie piped in to ask John whether or not he wanted to play princess with her after lunch. Like how selfish could you possibly get? Of course as soon as Sherlock took note of Rosie's childishness he too followed her lead, and so whenever John started to talk about stuffed animals or whatever childish single minded conversations Rosie aspired to have, Sherlock would immediately switch to something that Rosie had no hopes of understanding. He would talk about politicians (even tough he really wasn't good at keeping such a conversation going) or about astronomy, or the judicial system. In fact, the more complicated words that could be thrown in the better, and finally Rosie just stared down at her sandwich in a defeated way, listening to her father blab on and on about his pick for the his favored party in the upcoming election. That little brat got a taste of her own medicine, and apparently it was too sour for her to handle. Yet despite Sherlock's efforts to keep John at his side, they instead began to play princess as per Rosie's wishes after lunch. This of course meant that the princesses were to go in Rosie's room and prepare themselves, while John the dragon waited outside the locked door so as to try to find a way inside. To be quite honest, this game was rather menial considering a locked door was a locked door, and while John could probably break it down without too much effort, the damage and repairs were a lot more burdensome when taken into consideration that it was in the end merely a game of princess. No dragon's ego was important enough to get another three hundred dollar door, or whatever those things cost these days. Of course they were locked in Sherlock's room, and he knew that there was a key above the doorframe, yet that would almost be too boring, and so he hoped that John would take into consideration his game's longevity. Then again, he would almost rather John win in the first two minutes before leaving Rosie alone to entertain herself in the end.