"Daddy! Daaaddyyy! Guess what!"
John smiled as he toed off his shoes inside the door of 221b and watched Hamish run down the stairs. No matter how tiring or dull (sometimes both at once) his shift had been, his little bundle of joy never ceased to cheer him up.
John scooped the six year old up for a hug and squeezed him tight.
"What? Did your Father decide that a kitten wouldn't be so bad after all?" John started up the stairs with Hamish in his arms as the boy rolled his eyes.
"No. But he did say I'm finally old enough to stay up for the New Year!"
"Oh, did he now?" In the kitchen Sherlock was hunched over his microscope. He simply shrugged at John's question. John sat Hamish on his stool next to Sherlock and kissed his partner on the cheek.
"Well Father knows best."
About 9 o'clock that night Hamish was reading on the couch, trying to pass some time. John checked his watch and looked over at his son.
"Are you sure you don't want to nap for a bit so you stay awake later?"
"Nope," came the short reply as Hamish turned a page.
"Alright, suit yourself."
"Okay." John ignored the huff of laughter that came from the kitchen.
"Daddy, will you read to me? My eyes are tired of words." Hamish rubbed his eyes, sure it was all the letters in front of him that was making them droop, not the fact that it was well past his bed time (10:46, to be exact).
"Sure, H," John got up and joined Hamish on the couch. "What are we reading today?"
"Treehouse."
Five minutes later Hamish was asleep.
"Are you sure you don't want to nap for a bit so you can stay awake later?" Sherlock came out from the kitchen, grinning and bearing two wine glasses.
"Bit late for that," John said as he stifled a yawn. "Best to just soldier on."
Sherlock smiled at his soldier and his son snuggled together as he handed one glass to John.
"Suit yourself."
Sherlock pulled out his violin and played softly as John continued reading and Hamish continued sleeping.
At about 11:50, Sherlock began to play Auld Lang Syne. John glanced up and smiled.
"Time to wake him up?"
"I think so," Sherlock grinned. "He almost made it."
"Maybe next year."
John gently pushed the curls off of Hamish's forehead and kissed him softly.
"Hamish, guess what," John whispered as Sherlock played one of his favourite pieces. "H, it's almost New Years."
Hamish rubbed at his eyes and blinked sleepily up at his Daddy.
"I di'n't miss it?"
"Nope, you have plenty of time. Just snuggle here and I'll get you your 'wine.'"
So John draped blanket over Hamish and collect his and Sherlock's glasses before heading to the kitchen.
"Any requests, little one?"
"Bach."
John grinned as he filled the glasses, sparkling cider in Hamish's, the sounds of Bach drifting throughout the flat.
At precisely 11:59, Sherlock laid down his violin and sat so Hamish was snuggled between him and John.
"To another year of us," toasted John, raising his glasses.
"To us and lots of interesting murders," Sherlock added.
Hamish just giggled and touched his cup to both of his dads' glasses.
A/N: I know I didn't post on Sunday, but I knew I wanted a New Year's Eve story. And speaking of the New Year- WHO'S EXCITED FOR SHERLOCK?! (Silly question, I know)
Happy New Year, my loves. May 2014 bring you lots of smiles and a few nice murders, if that's what shakes your boat. (Please don't create these murders, just solve them)
