Sherlock Holmes stared down at him tiny baby, who was sleeping peacefully in a crib at the centre of the living room of 221b Baker Street. Sherlock had insisted the crib should be in the living room, as it was where John and Sherlock spent most of their day, Sherlock couldn't bear to be away from Hamish for long.
It was almost 3 in the morning, though that didn't matter much to Sherlock, he had never slept much anyway, even before the adoption had been finalized. Hamish's face stretched into a, what for his tiny face was, an enormous smile, he gurgled happily and stretched his hands up towards his Father standing over him.
Hamish Holmes, Sherlock and John's child. Sherlock remembered how hard it had been to convince John to let him name their baby 'Hamish', John had always hated the name, but Sherlock thought it connected him to both his parents, his first name from his dad, John, his second name from his father, Sherlock.
'What are you doing up?' John asked as he entered from the hallway leading in from their bedroom, his hair was ruffled from sleep, his eyes blinking, as he stifled a yawn.
'I can't sleep. I need to look after Hamish.' Sherlock said quietly, as to not to disturb the happy baby. John just smiled at him lovingly as he walked over the the crib and looked down into the crib, 'Our baby.' John said, as if it was still just a dream to him. The last two years had been such a blur.
First there had been the dating, then the wedding, then the adoption. John and Sherlock had been wed a year ago, and for both John and Sherlock, it was one of the best days of their lives. They had a small ceremony with only close friends and family; Sherlock's parents and brother, Harriet, who surprisingly turned up, Mrs. Hudson, Greg and Molly.
John and Sherlock, well, dating, had been very sudden, though no-one seemed particularly surprised when they told them, Mrs. Hudson cheered. It had just, sort of happened, there had been a kiss, then another, and then more than a kiss, until neither could deny their feelings any longer, and just stopped trying to.
John put him arm across Sherlock's back and leaned into him, Sherlock put him arm across John's shoulder in return. Together they stared down at their tiny child. Sherlock lightly kissed John's forehead, John leaned up towards Sherlock's mouth, and tenderly embraced him.
The next morning, Ms. Hudson came up to their flat as usual to bring them tea and feed Hamish his breakfast. Mrs. Hudson took her job as Hamish's godmother very seriously and loved Hamish, almost as much as his Fathers did.
'I haven't had a baby to look after for so long,' she would often say, as well as, 'I'm so happy for you both!' John and Sherlock would just smile at her, then smile at each other. John loved it when Sherlock smiled, his whole face would light up and his eyes, his beautiful eyes, would practically glow. The only smile John could ever possibly love more was his child's. Hamish's smile could turn John, and Sherlock's, days around.
Though, Hamish did make working cases hard. Sherlock didn't want to leave Hamish alone, neither did John, even if he would be safe with Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock wanted to take his with them on cases in his pram or on his back, but John didn't want him to be around all the blood and gore at such a young age.
John worried a lot about Hamish, always checking for fevers, thinking of the future, Sherlock didn't express these feelings in the same way John did, he didn't want to worry anyone any more than they already were.
Being with John had made Sherlock feel more alive than he ever had before, more than any case ever had, more than any drug ever could. John and Hamish were everything Sherlock could ever want, everything he could ever need.
Being with Sherlock made John forget about the horrors he had seen during his army service, all the lonely nights alone. Sherlock and Hamish were everything John could ever want, everything he could ever need.
Together, with their child, they were truly happy.