Father's Family Name

by Tara Laurel

"What did Hamish have to offer his child? No land or house or money. No family heirloom. All he possessed, all he ever had, was his name. So he gave it to John." From a prompt from Kura06 on Tumblr to me. "What if John hates his middle name because it was his father's?" Also for letswritesherlock challenge #10 of a missing scene.

1. All He Had to Give

TITLE: Father's Family Name

CHAPTER/TITLE: Chapter One/All He Had to Give

RATING: T (language, content)

A/N: From a prompt from Kura06 on Tumblr to me. "What if John hates his middle name because it was his father's?" Also for letswritesherlock challenge #10 of a missing scene. This is a VERY different take on things from "In the Name of the Father".

There will be a couple of fics like these, for why John doesn't like his middle name.

Please read and review. Many thanks.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Sherlock.

Chapter One: All He Had to Give

You got it from your father
It was all he had to give
So it's yours to use and cherish
For as long as you may live

If you lost the watch he gave you
It can always be replaced;
But a black mark on your name
Can never be erased

It was clean the day you took it
And a worthy name to bear
When he got it from his father
There was no dishonor there

So make sure you guard it wisely
After all is said and done
You'll be glad the name is spotless
When you give it to your son

- "Father's Family Name", a poem by Anonymous

Hamish

George

Watson.

That was it.

That was all he had.

All he had to give.

After serving in the military to support his family, Hamish Watson had been rewarded for his dedication and sacrifice with a bullet to the brain.

Oh, he didn't die.

No.

That would've been easy. Kinder.

This war wound lingered. Like a disease, it slowly ate away at the man that was once Hamish Watson, reducing him eventually to little more than a full grown drooling infant.

The Watsons never had much. None of them. Looking back at their ancestry, each generation had to fight and scrap for their place in the world. Or, just a place to put their head at night.

They weren't future-minded folk. They couldn't afford to be. It was a sad truth that a fair few of them died without ever having a family. With nothing to leave behind. Nothing to give.

When Helen Marie Weller met Hamish Watson, he had very little to offer her. He was slaving away at the same factory that she was. So he withdrew himself to spare her. But she was quite a persistent little thing. Stubborn to the very end of her days. It was something Hamish secretly loved about her.

Helen asked him for one thing and one thing only.

His love.

Well, maybe two things.

Because she also, proudly, took his name.

Helen Marie Weller became Helen Marie Watson.

And then came Harriet Judith Watson. Named for Helen's mother, Harriet, and her grandmother, Judith.

And when John Hamish Watson was brought into the world, they followed the tradition. Well, sort of. Both Hamish's father and grandfather's names were John. He didn't quite think John John Watson would give him any thanks from his son. Even if Harry begged them to do it so that she could endlessly tease her baby brother "John-John".

This was his son. Of course, he loved both his children equally. But there was something about a father and son. The carrying on of legacy.

And what did Hamish have to offer his child? No land or house or money. No family heirloom.

All he possessed, all he ever had, was his name.

So he gave it to John.

But in the middle though, to spare the boy at least some embarrassment.

He also didn't quite feel worthy enough to give it as a forename.

Hamish George Watson did all he could for his family. But when the factory that employed both bread winners of the home shut down, "all he could do" just didn't seem like enough anymore. He worked nearly nonstop, picking up shifts and odd jobs and temporary positions.

And then he ran into a former factory buddy in the market. The man was on leave from the military. He told his friend of his troubles and the soldier offered the struggling father a solution. Military pay wasn't fantastic. In fact, it was pretty poor in comparison to other positions. But money was money. Little money was better than no money when Hamish was having no luck finding a permanent occupation.

So, after a closed door conversation with his wife, where Helen only waited to cry when her husband left the room, Hamish told her of the opportunity. He was so excited to be able to do something with his life and for his family, she could never bear to even attempt to dissuade him or show any signs of sorrow over the decision.

Years later, she would wish she had.

Little John was as brave as his mother, keeping a stiff lip and small straight shoulders when given the news. Harriet was a little less composed. She crumbled into her mother's arms right there and refused to leave the woman's lap for a good while. John was barely a boy, but somehow, he seemed to understand.

But at night the son allowed himself to silently shed tears for his father.

He would wait until Harry was asleep, as they shared a bed. The first night after their dad left, the girl had just about drown her pillow. John curled himself against her until she finally faded from sobs to slumber. And then, he wept.