"Good-night, little one," Sherlock placed one more gentle kiss to Hamish's golden curls and then laid the book they had been reading on the nightstand, "You can read more to me tomorrow. Now it's time for you to sleep."
"But you don't have a case, why can't I stay up with you and Daddy?" Hamish asked somewhat stubbornly, his eyes drifted shut in a slow, heavy blink which made Sherlock smile softly.
"Because if you stay up late then you'll want to sleep in and we have a lot to accomplish tomorrow. Or did you not want see what happens with our latest experiment?" Hamish gave his Father a sleepy glare, the expression failing to hide the smile caused by the mild teasing.
"You know I want to know what happens."
"Then sleep is a must," Sherlock checked to make sure his son was comfortably tucked in one last time and then stood up, "Besides, I don't want to get in trouble for letting you be unruly."
Sherlock winked as Hamish giggled and then left so as to not distract him from slumber any longer.
About an hour later John arrived home from his shift at surgery to find Sherlock reading in his armchair, a steaming cup of tea waiting for John by his own. A grateful smile crossed his face as he toed out of his shoes.
"Went to bed fine, then?" he enquired, hanging up his coat.
"Without a hitch," Sherlock replied without looking up, "Since when have I ever had trouble getting him to sleep?" With this taunt the consulting detective glanced up as he turned the page, pleased smirk in place. For reasons unknown to either of them, Sherlock had always had an easier time getting Hamish to bed. John just rolled his eyes and picked up his tea to take a warming sip.
"Well there was that one time you tried to play Brahms's Lullaby to him when he was about a year old," John teased, walking behind Sherlock and wrapping his arms around the suit-clad shoulders, "If I remember correctly, that didn't quite go as planned."
Sherlock was caught between a sarcastic reply and a chuckle at the memory. What came out was a very mild-tempered retort.
"That was an attempt- and a very successful one- to prove that just because something says "lullaby" in the title does not mean that it is soothing to everyone," Sherlock turned his head in order to lay a soft kiss on John's cheek, "Regardless of what one's doctor might believe."
John grinned and nudged Sherlock's curls with his nose.
"How determined are you to finish that book with the utmost speed?"
"It can wait if a more pressing matter arises. Why?"
"Dance with me."
Sherlock rolled his eyes as he gave a soft sigh, but John paid no notice to those things because there was no hesitation in Sherlock's motion to lay the book aside.
Meanwhile, Hamish was not, as his Father assumed, still asleep. Oh, he had had every intention of sleeping when Sherlock had left, and he had even dozed off a time or two. But for some reason, dreams could not hold him.
Knowing that his parents' bed had just the perfect Hamish-shaped space in it for nights like tonight, the 4 year-old quietly slid out of his bed and crept for the door. Carefully he descended the steps, steps not making a sound as he made his way towards the rest of the flat. But before he could open the door to his parents' room, a soft noise caught his attention.
From the sitting room, Hamish could make out the quiet playing of music along with the warm, lax laugh of his Father. Slowly he snuck closer to the inviting sounds. As he listened harder his little ears recognised the easy, simple melodies of Mozart. Hamish smiled, knowing that his Father preferred Bach's intricate works, so this must be at the request of his Daddy. Soon Hamish's quiet feet brought his parents into view.
Leisurely the two men moved around the space between armchairs and couch. The coffee table had been pushed aside and papers went unnoticed underfoot. Hamish stood hidden in the shadows of the doorway, not wishing to disturb the peace he saw in the faces of both his dads. Slowly, John reached up to whisper something in Sherlock's ear, not heard by the youngster spying from the side. All Hamish caught was the responding chuckle and the contented grin that spread over his Father's face. Sherlock then leant down to press his lips into John's hair, eyes still crinkled at the corners and shoulders relaxed, small signs betraying his happiness. Hamish was transfixed.
Only once before had he seen his parents dancing together. It was at the wedding of a friend, and it had been much more formal than what he was witness to now. Carefully the boy studied the scene before him, curious as to the change. His Father and Daddy had never before seemed to hide the love Hamish knew they had for each other, nor did he think that that love had been in jeopardy at the time of the wedding. But watching their easiness together now, the grace they radiated as they took turns leading, showed that something was different. It must be the environment, Hamish thought, they're home and safe. It was not unlike how the boy sometimes felt about sleeping. Usually his own bed was all well and good. But sometimes one just needed the added comfort of familiarity. Their home was that added comfort, the sense of belonging and sense of being needed. Hamish stood in awe of the love being shown wordlessly, only the quiet music to interrupt the silence.
Soon John raised his lips once more to Sherlock's ear, still speaking too low for Hamish's tired ears to hear. "Don't look now, but I think we're being watched." Sherlock surreptitiously snuck a glance to the hallway and hid his smirk in John's temple.
"It would seem that way."
"I guess you're not as great at putting him to sleep as you thought."
Sherlock let out another low laugh. "Apparently not. But he's getting there."
And it was true. As another song faded into the next Hamish, having given in to his tired legs already, sat leaning against the wall. He then drifted into a deep sleep, calmed and contented by the quiet music of both Mozart and his parents, a song on the soundtrack of his life.
"One more song and then we should all get to bed."
"As you wish, John."
A/N: Back to the world of Hamish after a brief (pun not intended) sojourn into the land of Mystrade.
The title was taken from the Martha Graham quote "dance is the hidden language of the soul." While I doubt that she had this in mind, it seemed to fit.
Rachel seems to be updating by Wednesdays, so we'll see if that pattern holds.