A/N : Hamish is 5, and it's...Parent!lock x Hobbitlock
"Sherlock, you are scaring Hamish."
The consulting dragon paused, before resuming his action of licking away the jam on his toast with his long forked tongue, and biting down hard on the toast with a sharp crisp.
In front of him, was a gaping Hamish, who had dropped his toast in continuation to express his shock. "No I'm not. He's clearly enjoying it. Don't you, Hamish?" Sherlock swallowed then devoured the rest of the toast in two large bite.
Hamish only stared in response. John glared at him disapprovingly before clearing his throat and nudged the dumbstrucked kid, "Here, have some more. Your daddy has had enough of his eggs." and scrabbled the eggs from Sherlock's plate. The other man merely raised his eyebrow and puffed a cloud of black twirling smoke that heated his cold tea.
Sherlock sighed. Why did it had to be him, every time, to be the one to clean up the mess John had left behind?
"John, for Rassilon's sake, I trust you have no difficulty to put on your shoes when you go out, have you ?"
And there came the mumbled reply and a few shifting sound of clothing.
He could only wore his best frown and forbid himself to find any amusement from the trails of mud left behind by John's hairy feet and another smaller line left by Hamish's, who ,apparently, took pride in following his father's good example, of going out barefoot.
Exhaling a puff of faint flame subconsciously before rising from his armchair, Sherlock strode across the room and swept the floor with his ridged tail and murmured,"how many times do I have to do this-"
"Okay, I'm sorry-It's kinda an old habit that i can't shake off...You know, Hobbits don't wear shoes back in Shire." John wriggled his toes and winked at Hamish who returned the same mischievous smile and ran to hug the sulking dragon.
That brought a small crept of smile onto the detective's face. He ruffled Hamish's hair and tickled him with his long tongue, sending the boy shivering with laughter. John only grinned and settled himself in front of his laptop, with a new entry of his blog.
"Com'ere, you stinky little dwarf-prepare yourself to receive the wrath of Smaug-" Sherlock feigned a growl and scooped Hamish up easily, carrying the laughing child to the bathroom. He kicked open the door of the washroom and put down the wriggling child into the tube.
"Now, now, nasty earthling, it's time for me to eat you." Hamish beamed at him while Sherlock busily turned on the water tap and attempted to catch the ever-escaping soap with his sharp nails.
"Daddy, dragons don't eat dwarfs."
"Yes, we do."
"No, you don't. You once said that Saphira ate one and had a bellyache for a whole week, remember?"
"Did I?" Sherlock frowned and scrubbed Hamish's dirt-covered feet absently.
"Well I suppose dwarfs are too dirty for a dragon to digest. As far as I know, humans smell much better than dwarfs. And hobbits smell the best. Like roasted deer."
"Daddy !"
Sherlock curled his lips into a smile.