Hamish was three when he stumbled upon his parents kissing. It wasn't that he hadn't seen them kiss before, but this was different. He was fairly certain that his Papa was trying to eat his Dad.

He stood there frozen for a moment. Papa was too caught up in having Dad as a midnight snack to notice him. Dad was up against the wall. One of his legs was hooked around Papa's thigh. One hand was under Papa's shirt and the other was gripping his hair, as if he was trying to pull him off. He was squirming, as if he was trying to get away but he was really just ending up rubbing closer to Papa.

What broke Hamish out of his daze was when his Dad let out a moan into his Papa's mouth. His little heart shattered. Dad is in pain and I need to help him, Hamish thought with a tiny gasp. He ran over to them, grabbed onto one of Papa's legs, and screamed, "Stop eating Daddy!"

With a loud pop, Sherlock and John broke apart. The stared down at their small son, who was holding onto Sherlock's leg as if his life depended on it. They were disheveled and red in the face. Their shirts were undone a bit and their hair was messy. After a few seconds of stunned silence, they looked back at each other and began laughing.

Hamish couldn't understand what was so funny. His Papa was killing his Dad. Why were they laughing at this? They were supposed to stop people from killing other people. It was their job. Why were they laughing at this potential murder?

"Papa," Hamish said seriously. "I want to call Uncle Greg. I don't want you to kill Daddy. He needs to come and arrest you."

His dads were howling at this point. It took them a few seconds, but finally his Dad managed to choke out, "We can't laugh, Sherlock, it's a crime scene." But that set them off again.

Hamish still gripped his Papa's leg, thoroughly confused. The two of them finally managed to settle down and his Papa picked him up. "No!" Hamish cried.

Sherlock looked puzzled. "No what, Hamish?"

"Put me down! I don't want you to eat me too!" Hamish wailed, struggling against his Papa's grip.

"Oh, Hamish. I would never eat you," Sherlock smiled.

Hamish calmed down a bit. "But you were eating Daddy, and I don't want you to eat him."

Sherlock sat Hamish down on his lap on the couch, and John joined them, wrapping his arms around his husband and his son.

"Hamish," John began to explain. "Papa wasn't trying to eat me. He was just kissing me."

Hamish was puzzled. "That wasn't kissing. Kissing is just a little peck."

Sherlock shook his head. "Sometimes, grown-ups get a little carried away when they're kissing someone who they love. It doesn't mean that we're hurting each other. It means we love each other."

"Then why don't you kiss me like that?" Hamish asked, now feeling slightly hurt.

"It's only something you're supposed to do with your husband or wife," John replied, ruffling Hamish's blonde curls. "You can do that when you're much, much older. For now, you're just supposed to give little pecks. That's how daddies show their babies how much they love them."

"Oh." Hamish nodded, and then he began to yawn.

"I think it's time for bed for a certain young man, don't you think Daddy?" Sherlock asked.

"Oh, I certainly agree, Papa," John smiled. "Let's go, Hamish."

John and Sherlock tucked their son into bed and sat with him until they were certain he had fallen back into a deep sleep. They crept back downstairs as quietly as they could, making sure to shut Hamish's door behind them.

"Christ," John sighed, rubbing his forehead and flopping down on the sofa. "Well, that was something I was hoping we would never have to deal with."

"It was rather awkward," Sherlock agreed, sitting down next to his husband and throwing his arm around John's shoulders. John leaned on Sherlock's shoulder and began to press soft kisses to the side of his neck.

"Do you think we could pick up where we left off, or has the mood been sufficiently killed?" John asked between kisses.

"Oh, I think that we could work past the awkwardness," Sherlock chuckled, shifting them so John was lying on the couch and he was on top of him. "I do feel bad about one thing, though," Sherlock added as he worked more of John's shirt buttons open and kissed his chest.

"Mmmmm," John hummed, arching into Sherlock's kisses. "What's that?"

"I really do think that I could just eat." Sherlock stopped to nip John's firm chest. "You." He moved to John's neck and bit there. "Up." He grabbed John's lower lip with his teeth and gently pulled at it.

"You're such a corny bastard," John choked out before he captured Sherlock's mouth with his. They then proceeded to pick up where they had left off, but this time with their son fast asleep and mercifully without any interruptions.

A/N: Hello hello! So this little thing popped into my head a few weeks ago and I've been writing follow up chapters. I hate when I have to wait for new chapters of stories, so I wanted to make sure I was done before I went ahead and posted this. For those of you wondering why this story is rated the way it is, well, you're just going to have to wait and see why. I promise there is smut written. Promise promise promise. Since it can get a bit confusing, Hamish is calling John "Daddy" and Sherlock "Papa" in this story. Please read and review, if you feel so inclined (I will love you forever if you do review, though. Even if it's constructive criticism and not showering me with the love that I so obviously deserve.). Thanks for reading!

Obligatory disclaimer: I own nothing. My deepest apologies to ACD and Moftiss for butchering their perfect characters.

Update: Please make sure to read the story "Big Kisses" by fantasybean, which was inspired by this chapter. I'll consider it a personal favor to me if you do :)