***Disclaimer***
Sherlock, of course, belongs to BBC and all of its creators.
Hamish Watson-Holmes belongs to the wonderful fandom! I'm just borrowing him :)
I wanted to write a prent!lock story where Hamish is a not-so-perfect teen. He's going through a rebellious streak. I don't think any exist as of right now, so it's something new. I'm kind of taking a risk, so tell me what you think when you're finished reading it, please.
Hamish was walking down Baker Street, his mind turning quickly. It was almost 2 in the morning, and 4 hours past his curfew. His phone had been constantly vibrating since 10:30, and he knew it was from either his dad or father. Probably both. He eventually turned it off. Because he didn't care. Not today. He had just turned 14 and he thought that he was old enough to stay out until at least 12.
He was coming up to Speedy's now, and even though he couldn't care less what his parents thought, he still knew that he should have some kind of excuse to give to his parents. So, he started going through a list of possible lies, mentally crossing out the ones he recently told. He finally settled on "I went over to Jack's after school but I wasn't feeling well and so I took a nap in their guest bedroom. I told him to wake me up at 9 so I could start heading home! He just forgot!" He knew it was lame. And that his father wouldn't buy it (even if Hamish was getting better at lying to him these past few years). But maybe he could play the 'sick card' and his dad would fuss over him and keep his father from interrogating him too much. With that positive thought in mind, he opened the door to 221b and prepared to face the music.
Oddly enough, the lights were off. And it was silent. His thoughts immediately went to the worst and he started to panic. Had that Moriarty guy came back from the dead? Were his parents being held captive? Or worse...were his parents already de-. Suddenly, his thoughts were stopped by a creaking sound coming from beyond his parent's bedroom door.
Hamish exhaled. His parents were alright. They were asleep. In their room. Wait. Why were they in their room? He was four, now four and a half, hours late coming home! They should've been waiting up for him. To lecture him. And possibly ground him. But...they weren't. They were comfortably sleeping in their bed, all the while their son was out and about wandering London late at night. He couldn't believe it.
But Hamish wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe they thought that they heard him come in earlier. Maybe they got tired and just intended to get up when they heard him come in. Maybe they realized that he was getting older and deserved a later curfew. Hamish internally scoffed at the last thought.
But he wasn't about to wake them up just to get lectured. He quietly tip-toed through the kitchen and up the stairs. He opened his door slowly and slipped inside. Shutting the door behind him, he undressed until he was just in his pants. He slipped under the covers and laid his head against the pillow. On his bedside table, his alarm clock now read 2:42am. He sighed and closed his eyes.
He didn't know what awaited him in the morning, but it couldn't be good. Maybe he should just get up and leave early..? "No" Hamish thought. He knew that avoiding his parent's wouldn't work for long. Eventually, he'd have to face them. And he preferred to get it over with sooner rather than later. So, he would get up at his normal time tomorrow. And he would go downstairs and face whatever he had coming his way. Because damnit! He was fourteen years old! He was a man! And he deserved to be treated as such.
Okay! So, what do you think? Should I continue?
If so, the next chapter will be of the same time-frame, but in John and Sherlock's POV.