Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, they all belong to their respective creators.
~ Late Night Story Time
Among the constant clicks of the keyboard is when he heard it, the soft coos and gentle whimpering of their son Hamish. Sherlock looked at the time, noting that lately Hamish has started a 2 am waking ritual that John lamented on. He rose from his seat at the desk and padded over to the bedroom; entering and seeing in the dark room, uncoordinated movement in the crib, he smiled softly. Sherlock crossed the room to stand near the crib and looked down at Hamish, briefly observing that John was still asleep in their bed, good, he needed it. The baby's movements increased as soon as he saw his father, he started whimpering some more to go along with his pout, and Sherlock reached down to gather him with his bundle of blankets.
"Shh, shh, shh, we don't need that now young man. Wouldn't want to wake up daddy." He spoke softly
Sherlock check the baby over, if he needed a diaper change or maybe he was hungry but Hamish seemed content in his arms. John was stirring, his nocturnal clock nearly in tune with Hamish's
"Shh, John, go back to sleep."
The former solider needed little to no convincing on that matter and was out like a light again. Sherlock, with Hamish in his arms, padded out of the room into the living room where Sherlock sat in his chair, his laptop screen off to conserve battery so the only light available was the dim moon light. Sherlock rearranged Hamish's blanket to keep the baby warm, the chill of the night could give him a cold. Sherlock began to position Hamish to lie down but the boy fought against it he wanted to sit and was happy to be in Sherlock's lap.
"Not sleepy at all are you? I'll find a way to remedy that." Sherlock smirked, running a few fingers through Hamish's dark curls.
"Yes, that seems hypocritical coming from me but I'm an adult, you, however, need your sleep because you need to grow up tall and strong."
The baby looked at him with content and curious dark blue eyes.
"I bet you're wondering how I'm going to put you to sleep now. I've heard John tell you those frivolous fairytales, going on about happy ending and what not. Here's how those stories really happened, we'll start with Goldilocks and the Three Bears, also know as The Illogical Human Behaving Bear Family and the Blond House Burglar. Ready?"
Hamish cooed.
"In an alternate reality, bears, apparently, live in cottages, complete with human like living conditions such as furniture and appliances. There was this one bear family, the father being a rough sort with uncomfortable chairs, bed and scalding hot porridge, the mother with an affinity for extremely soft chairs, bed and cold porridge, ew, and their young cub, for some unknown reason, has the most comfortable chair, bed and perfectly temperature porridge. Honestly my boy, who eats porridge anymore? Anyway, the bear family evolved or learn to use utensils and after the parents each tasted their porridge and decided that it was unfit for the moment to be consumed, they went for a walk in the forest because that's normal for bear behavior, none of this living in a cottage nonsense.
While out on their walk, a blonde thief by the ridiculous name of Goldilocks came upon their house and proceeded to break and enter. Granted the little thief had help from the bears, seeing as they never bothered to lock their cottage, so really, the blame is on them. So, blonde thief enters and tries out each of their chairs and finds that the cub's chair is the most comfortable. However, if she were smarter, it would be quite obvious that the young bear's chair was better, come on, the thief was a little blonde girl, two other chairs were obviously too big for her so the smaller chair was the right choice. Moving on, she entered their kitchen and tasted each of the bowls filled with porridge, burning her tongue on the first one, cringing at the second one and eating the last one but she couldn't taste it. Then, the little thief went to their bedroom, where she tried out their beds and fell asleep on the smallest one, once again, it's obvious.
Soon enough, the bears came home and discovered that they had a trespasser, now they should have called the authorities to come and search the cottage for a burglar but there are no forest police, with good reason. Imagine the number of murder investigations? The bear family soon found the little thief in their room, sleeping on the bed and, really, they should have just eaten her but they didn't. She then woke up to find them staring at her and she ran away clearly frightened. The horrible end."
Sherlock looked down at Hamish only to see the baby's face a mixture puzzlement and misery, Hamish went for a pout with early signs of crying.
"Oh dear. Was that not good? It's how the story goes, the thief enters and escapes, without being eaten by the bears, I know, it gets me irate too."
Hamish whimpers a bit more.
"Alright, no stories, um… how about a lullaby? Hm?"
Tears are welling up in the baby's eyes.
"Ok, how about, Yo ho yo ho, a pirate's life for me…"
John wakes up to the distant whimpers of Hamish and Sherlock trying to calm him, figuring out that he should help the man. He got up from the bed walked in the direction of his family when he heard it and stopped in his tracks in the kitchen. A gentle melodic rumble of Sherlock's voice, singing to Hamish although John couldn't make out the words. He tiptoed over to the doorway that divided the kitchen from the living room and soon heard the song's lyrics.
"We pillage and plunder, we rifle and loot. Drink up me 'earties, yo ho.
We kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot. Drink up me 'earties, yo ho. Yo ho yo ho, a pirate's life for me…"
Sherlock sang the song without it's usual cheeriness, in a lullaby tone and soon enough Hamish was a sleep in his arms. John smiled at the scene and entered to sit on his chair across from Sherlock.
"You should be asleep too." The brunette said, his eyes fixed on Hamish.
"Indeed, but a pirate stole my treasure and I'd like him back."
"Not stolen John, borrowed, I borrowed the little treasure."
"Our little treasure."
Sherlock just smiled at John.
Author's Note: Roll around in the fluff! There's just so much, I've had this fic written for awhile and I originally wanted to add more but it's kind of sweet like this. Review if you want.