Looooook. Hamish fic. Yesssssss. Much awesome. Such cuteness.

Please review XD


Hamish Scott Holmes ran as fast as he could. His shoes (Red Converse, just like the Tenth Doctor's, he was proud to say.) pounded against the pavement as he bolted towards the flat he lived in with his dad.

As he reached the door, he noticed the knocker was straight.

Ugh. That meant that Uncle Mycroft would be there. And if Uncle Mycroft was there, it was most likely that Uncle Lestrade was there, as well. Hamish didn't mind Lestrade. He was cool.

But Mycroft.

Hamish took a quick second to push the knocker to the right a little, purposefully knocking it askew before he all but slammed the door open. He ran up the stairs towards their flat, passing by a startled Mrs. Hudson. Having aquired some manners from John, he shouted a quick "Sorry Mrs. Hudson!" as he took the stairs two at a time. He rushed through the (Thankfully already opened) door into the kitchen, where his dad, John, Mycroft, and Lestrade were all sitting around a table.

The first thing he noticed was that his dad and Mycroft looked extremely uncomfortable while Lestrade and John were laughing with each other. However, as soon as Hamish burst into the kitchen, a silence fell across the room.

Hamish figured it was probably because he was out of breath, his black curls were plastered to his forehead by a thin layer of sweat, and he was grinning like crazy. Not giving anyone a chance to speak, he spoke up.

"Dad, guess what?" He asked. Hamish could barely contain his excitement. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet, and his grin was only getting bigger.

"What, Hamish?" Sherlock asked. Hamish knew his dad knew, but he appreciated how Sherlock wasn't trying to ruin it. He's letting me have my moment, Hamish thought happily.

"I met someone today." Hamish said. "Like, a someone I like. Like, really like."

Sherlock and Mycroft both raised an eyebrow simultaneously. Lestrade and John both grinned.

"That's great, champ!" John exclaimed. "Who is she?"

"...oh." Hamish muttered. He blushed slightly, looking at his feet. He had no idea why he didn't calculate the possibility of this coming up. Now that it was happening, it seemed like the most possible scenario.

Maybe he should have told his dad and John about this sooner.

"John," Mycroft cut in, "It's obvious that Hamish is...oh, what's the common euphemism, Greg?" Mycroft questioned, looking over at his lover. Lestrade grinned.

"I believe the 'common euphemism' is...straight as a rainbow."

Hamish, blushing furiously now, gave a choked cry of embarrassment. Sherlock made a small hum of approval, John only smiled wider, and Mycroft nodded in confirmation.

"Yes, that's it." Mycroft confirmed.

"I...uh...did everyone know?" Hamish asked, still blushing furiously.

"Even Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock said, not looking up from his case files.

"Actually," Mrs. Hudson shouted from down stairs, "I'm pretty sure everyone in that room is gay, dearie!"

Mycroft and Lestrade stayed silent. Sherlock's eyes went wide and he turned an interesting shade of crimson, as well as Hamish, who also jumped a little. John gave his usual cry of "I'm not gay!"

Hamish, still blushing, ran up the stairs to his room.

He never liked euphemisms anyway.