The Guardians
Mycroft dies and in his will, chooses sherlock and John to be the guardians of his 8 year old daughter Aberdeen (John calls her Abba for short lol). Prompt by holmosexuality.He could have left her to anyone. Mrs. and Mr. Holmes were the first to come to mind. They were old but hardly infirm and had the sort of 'sitting down' type lifestyle that was good for little kids. They could watch over her and see to it that she got the best education, tell her warm stories about her father, and give her three square meals a day. They knew all about raising children--they'd raised three with great success. Age aside, they were surely the best option. So why was John left with adoption papers left to sign?
He hadn't known about Abba at all until she was five. Christmas 2018 with the Holmes brood and a plus one for Mycroft that had blindsided him and Sherlock both. There had never been a conversation about surrogates and progeny as far as John could remember. They'd given up on Sherlock, that much he did recall, but he supposed he always imagined the next generation of Holmes' to start with wedding bells before the rattle, some sort of nuptials taking place between Mycroft and his beloved to mark the dawning of a new age. He supposed he'd forgotten who exactly it was he'd been thinking about. Mycroft didn't have time for the necessary social engagements that lead up to marriage vows and couldn't even stomach most of the population as mere acquaintances. Of course he'd been practical about it. What other way of living did he know? Which was why there was Aberdeen, the governess, and a five year old surprise when she was big enough for him to handle with not much more than his own mother's advice. She was eight now and bigger every time John saw her. Her father, however, would from now on never age. And the burden of her care now fell to them.
He didn't want it to be, but it was, fundamentally, a burden. They hadn't expected this. Sherlock's job was still very much a spontaneous thing that borne them on unpredictable winds of chaos. And John was right there with them. They had caustic substances in the flat and John owned a gun both he and Sherlock were at times remiss in properly stowing away. There were always strangers in and around 221B, not all of them with the best of intentions. It wasn't just a matter of clearing the upstairs bedroom to make room for her things. It was an entire about-face in regards to everything about their lives.
They'd had the talk. Once. Years ago--before the big Christmas reveal. Did they want children? If so, when? Sherlock had been reluctant to change the nature of his career and John agreed as men of action that raising a child would ultimately be a selfish decision when they were so very devoted to other things and gratified by a lifestyle fraught with dangers. So the answer had been a unanimous 'no' on their part, with concessions made that should things change, if for instance one of them should find himself injured or paralyzed and requiring a more subdued lifestyle, they might return to the idea of parenthood as a potential avenue for substitute unpredictability and excitement. No one had ever mentioned guardianship over someone else's child and the sacrifices it would demand. It had been so unlikely as to be completely ignored as even the slightest of possibilities. Mycroft was a selfish arsehole not to have told them, and a worse one for imposing as he had. He supposed no one expected to have a heart attack, presuming to have all the time in the world, but the man hadn't been so surprised by his own death that he hadn't provided his wishes following his demise.
Sherlock didn't get Aberdeen, not outside the line that was drawn between one brother and the other. John got Aberdeen. Mycroft wanted his daughter to be raised by John. Legally it was scripted out through blood but the language that had been separate from that of barristers was hardly vague in its intent. Sherlock was inept, in need of guidance and close observation, and John was asked to be in charge of such lapses in practical knowledge to ensure Abba survived long enough for boarding school. She was his in as much as she would be theirs, with Sherlock already written off as useless. Astronomy, politics, pop culture, and parenting. Sherlock would want to prove him wrong, obviously. Reverse psychology worked well between the two. Just one last dick move from the British Government that almost certainly kept Sherlock safe in his brother's absence while in the same move providing for all his kin.
No. John was sure it was a lovely idea on paper, but neither he nor Sherlock were ready to settle down just yet. He loved Abba, she was a sweet little girl, but there was simply no room in their lives.
"She doesn't need to know we said no," Sherlock said, leaning against their kitchen table, reading in the lines of John's face the conversation they didn't need to have.
John nodded, leaning over and kissing his lips. "We'll still see her at Christmas," he offered in condolence to a dead man's wish, as he took up his phone and dialed for Mummy Holmes.