John sat down on the edge of his daughter's bed, opening her favourite book. “Ready to go to bed, Rosie?”
She nodded eagerly, snuggling up into the blanket. John smiled at her and started reading the story. She closed her eyes and yawned, starting to fall asleep.
In the middle of her story, she heard the bed creak and pressure put on the mattress. Sherlock, her stepfather, laid down and pulled the blanket over himself. Rosamund complained and whined as Sherlock stole all the blanket. John laughed, moving over so he was sitting close to his husband. He set his hand in Sherlock's hair.
“It's okay, Rosie,” he whispered, closing the book and laying down next to Sherlock. “Sher gets cold easily.”
Feeling his dear husband next to himself, Sherlock nuzzled his face against John, mumbling something. “Hello, Lock..” John whispered, twirling around Sherlock's curls.
“Hello, Key…” Sherlock responded. That was a little thing between the lovers, that John was the key to Sherlock's lock, the lock to his life, the lock to his heart.
“I'll bring you to our room…” John whispered, getting off the bed. He wrapped his arms around Sherlock and picked him up. Rosamund took her blanket back and smiled. “Goodnight, Rosie.”
“Goodnight, Dad.”
John carried Sherlock to their room. He closed the door and laid Sherlock down, then laid down as well. He pulled the blanket up and let his hand in Sherlock's hair, slowly working his way through the curls. Sherlock slept easily with John there with him.