Daddy's Had Enough Now
AN: This cute little thing just popped into my head one day. I hope you enjoy it!
John Watson-Holmes pushed the shopping cart as his husband and his four-year old son darted around the toy store.
"I don't want a bumlebee, daddy," Hamish complained, "I want a teddy bear."
"Bears are dull and contribute nothing to society," Sherlock said in his usual haughty tone while clutching a bumble bee plushie, "whereas bees−"
"Look, daddy, a microspoke like yours!" Hamish exclaimed, dropping the sandy brown bear and running away from his fathers.
The consulting detective scooped up the teddy bear and tossed it as well as the bee into the cart before chasing after his son. John sighed and followed the curly-haired terrors. He easily caught up with his husband, but there was no sight of his son. He nearly ran into the taller man as he was frozen standing at the end of the aisle. "Jesus, Sherlock, where's−"
"Alright, daddy's had enough now."
John froze as well as Sherlock stared at him with wide eyes. They'd know that voice anywhere. It had been years since they'd heard that voice saying those exact words. Why now? Why here? Oh God, where was Hamish?
Finally overcoming his shock, Sherlock schooled his features before moving to peer around the next aisle, where the voice had come from. John followed, leaving the cart in case he needed his hands. They both gasped in shock. It was Jim Moriarty, that they were sure of, even though he looked nothing like he did that night at the pool. His Westwood suit had been replaced by a pair of well-worn jeans, a burgundy cardigan and a pair of scuffed trainers. His normally perfectly slicked back hair was disheveled. He leaned heavily on a shopping cart as two young dark-haired, twins, around Hamish's age fought over a paint set.
"I want it! You'll only mess the paints up anyway!" one girl exclaimed.
"No, I won't! I want it. It's got purple paints. You don't even like purple!" the other girl screamed.
"You don't even like painting!"
"Girls, I've already told you neither of you are getting paints. You'll just make a huge mess," Moriarty said, sighed, "Papa said not to pick out anything messy."
"But daddy," they whined in unison.
"Don't 'but daddy' me. Daddy's had enough now. Put the paints back and find something else," he said, turning the cart around, only to freeze in surprise. The three men stared at each other for several moments. Moriarty cleared his throat and ran a hand through his already messy hair. "Hello."
"Hello," Sherlock drawled, narrowing his eyes.
"No worries," Moriarty said, slumping onto the cart once more and smiling tiredly, "Those two have been causing much more trouble than I have in a long time."
"You're a father," John said, his voice full of incredulity.
"Very observant, Johnny," he said, but there was no malice or taunting in his voice, "Jessica and Sebrina are four, and James, who's at home with his papa, isn't even a year old yet."
"His papa?"
"Yes, Seb offered to stay home with James since he's got a bit of a cold, while I took the girls out. Apparently, I've been too preoccupied with little James and the girls were feeling a bit neglected, so they're having a bit of a day out with daddy."
"And you just so happen to come to this toy store." John was still wary.
"Yes, it was close to the ice cream parlor." Moriarty raised a hand to stifle a yawn. "Sorry, I'm exhausted. Taking care of three kids keeps you busy. You're so lucky you only have one."
"How do you kn−"
"I've got to run, but it was lovely to catch up," he said before shuffling away, "Jess, put that doll back. You know those things creep your papa out."
Sherlock and John watched in complete shock as Jim Moriarty walked away with his daughters. "Did that really just happen?" John asked before bursting into giggles, "I can't believe that's the same man who threatened to blow us up."
"Parenthood changed some people, John," his husband said, chuckling, "but not me, of course." The second he said this, Hamish came running towards them clutching a kid's microscope. Sherlock scooped him up into his arms and peppered his face with kisses as he went on and on about all the 'speriments he was going to do.
AN: I'm trying to get better at updating! I'm trying, really, I am!