"Dad, I'm going to John's. Not sure when I'll be back."

And with that, Sherlock was out of the door. At least he had given a heads up, the last time he walked out, Draco went mental. It constantly surprised Harry that Draco was the maternal figure in their relationship, but with Harry tendencies to be slightly childish- the kind who muck about more than the kid, not the type that walks off without a care in the world- it seemed expected by everyone else. Ron kept on expressing he was surprised Harry had lost Sherlock only 2 or 3 times, ignoring how Draco grimaced and stormed out of the room everytime he did.

"Draco? Sherlock's gone out to see his friend, so don't go mental when you don't find him in one of his dark moods in his room." Harry shouted up the stairs to wherever Draco was located.

"What, his muggle friend? that John boy?" Draco answered back, treading down the stairs. For a Malfoy, Draco had been... quite understanding when he found out Sherlock had made friends with a muggle. It wasn't everyday Sherlock actually made a friend, and managed to hold on to them; so when he turned up one afternoon covered in paint towing an equally paint covered boy, Draco wasn't sure what to say. Of course over jam sandwiches Harry had supplied, -"One thing you will not get me to do, Potter, is cook or make food." - Harry and Draco learned that Sherlock's magic went a bit iffy when a boy said he had weird eyes, the blond boy, who was now devouring the sandwiches, had been the only one to stand up for him. John had been welcome from then on.

"Yes, 'that John boy'. Considering they've known each other for nearly 8 years, you should really start to call him by his actual name."

Draco merely rolled his eyes and headed to the kitchen. Harry leant against the door frame and watched him make tea without magic. That was another thing Harry couldn't get over. Draco preferrred doing everything manually. Harry put it down to teenage rebellion that stuck.

Draco paused what he was doing, leaning turning around and watching Harry as the kettle boiled. He had a solemn look on his face. Harry moved towards him and held his cheek.

"You miss him, don't you? The old Sherlock. The Sherlock that clambered for Dad and Daddy's attention, before daddy became father. Before we caught him smoking, and before he started locking himself in his room. Before he started sassing the teachers at Hogwarts." Harry stated.

Draco looked at him and smiled softly. "Before he became a shitty teenager." Draco added.

"Before he became you." Harry joked, grinning. Draco swatted his hand away and turned back to the tea. Harry wrapped his arms around him.

"Don't worry, it's just a stage, Rose went through it, remember? We're lucky we have a boy, Ron kept telling us, remember?"

Draco said nothing, but he leant into Harry's embrace, sighing.

Harry held him for a short while longer, before letting go and reaching for the sugar bowl. Draco got out two mugs (domestic bliss) and they set about the boring part of tea- filling the mugs, waiting for half an hour for the tea to taste like tea, so on.

Moving into the lounge, they stretched out on the sofa, Draco resting his head on Harry's collar bone. The house was calm and quiet, no loud screeching of Sherlock's violin, or that blasted music he played just to wind them up.

"Do you think he'll snap out of it soon?" Draco murmured.

Harry thought for a bit. "Maybe, maybe not. We are his parents after all. Mr. Dickhead and Mr. Martyr." Draco chuckled, pinching him.

When Sherlock came home, unsurprisingly, John was with him. Whilst Sherlock was taking off his coat and scarf and other things he hadn't really needed to have put on to go watch a movie, John wandered into the living room. He smiled softly upon seeing Draco adn Harry asleep on the sofa.

"Yeah, they look like right grumpy old bastards." He called to Sherlock, being careful not to disturb the sleeping couple. Sherlock hopped in, one shoe on one shoe off, and grinned at the sight.

"Yes, but at least they weren't in a compromising position like last time"

John shoved Sherlock. "Aw, you shit! I'd just got over the traumatising memory of walking in on your dads groping each other." He stormed off, leaving a smirking Sherlock behind.