Fluffy fluff fluff ~ I am so so so sorry for Memento Mori everyone you have no idea ~ fluffity fluff fluff.
Written for TheLittleSparrow and her imagination with Hamish Hooper Holmes x Unknown female romantic lead.
Hamish Hooper Holmes had a lot of tough choices in front of him. He surveyed the living room of 221B, Baker Street, glancing at all the angry people in it. His father was predictably the most annoyed, but Uncle Mycroft's cold fury and Uncle John's on-the-brink-of-explosion kind did not raise his hopes too much. Only his Mum looked unfazed.
He didn't have the time for this minor fight. He had his grade six piano exam soon; he had to practice the violin (he was rather bad at it, to his father's surprise. Apparently, Dad hadn't counted on the music genes to go into piano), and he had three papers due – Biology, Chemistry and one on the effect of Tennessee Williams on his contemporary playwrights. Aubrey had laughed when he told her the topic of his paper, saying, "Trust you to pick something that obscure. You and I both know Arthur Miller had more of an effect than Williams. Although I will give The Streetcar Named Desire its due praise."
Aubrey made him mad by hitting the exactly right sociological spot that Hamish almost always passed over. She made him mad by the way her red hair were never combed, and she made him absolutely furious by the way she laughed at whatever serious topic he was expounding on.
And he really had to get out of this 221B war because she was meeting him in an hour.
So Hamish considered his options.
The obvious first choice would be Uncle Mycroft. Resourceful and manipulative, he could bring his mother exotically unavailable pastries while she was pregnant with Katie and Hamish knew he was a strong ally to have. However, should he pick Uncle Mycroft, it would immediately put his father against him and his father was the one who was allowing him to go out, not Uncle Mycroft. Not to mention Mrs. Hudson.
The second obvious option was Aunty Irene. She was powerful, yes, but she was almost always neutral on the Baker Street Battle Ground. Relaxed and grooming her nails, Aunty Irene would give him the safety of not picking any side. "It's not that important a decision, Mr. and Mrs. Holmes," she sang. A Dominatrix who relaxed easy was almost always more worrying than the British Government spitting cold fury, after all. And there was the fact that she was fantastically spying on every crime cell available.
But, then Dad would certainly make a fuss for the next few weeks. And Dad making a fuss always resulted in Hamish's Philosophy homework disappearing, which never boded well, since he hated that class.
The third choice would be Mrs. Hudson. The old lady with cookies and milk (and the previously owned drug cartel) was another very safe option, but chances were, if he should pick Mrs. Hudson, he wouldn't be let out for another five hours, let alone one. His Dad would insist on arguing with him until he was won over.
The fourth option was Uncle John. Once again, Hamish had to concede that this would be another valuable ally – ex-soldier, strong, brave and loyal. And should he take Uncle John's side, he would certainly have his father with him. But picking Uncle John put Aunt Mary and Mother dangerously against him, something he was not willing to risk.
The fifth option (and one that he had dismissed without a thought) was his Dad, Sherlock Holmes. Consulting Detective and Lecturer for Criminology he may be, but he was also the one who would most likely lose this fight and sulk. Oh, Dad complained about "your manipulative mother" but there was nothing he could do about Mum getting most of her way in cases like this one.
The strongest option (and one which most people would consider a soft option) would be his Mum. Specialist Registrar, and one trained to snap bones – not to mention one who was voluntarily kind and sweet – was terrifying in her own way. She could sway Uncle Mycroft with her cakes, she had Aunt Mary on her side, and she had the neutral Aunty Irene neutrally on her side. Taking his Mum's side would be perfect, however, his father would certainly not let him go.
And Aubrey was waiting.
Hamish wrinkled his nose. She'd probably be late, though. And possibly out of breath. Rushing in, with all her freckles looking mad. Her hair looking even madder. Her eyes crinkling as she batted away the grumpiness on his face. She'd force him to not pay for coffee, or try to get him to steal a bottle of whisky. Airily voicing her views on politics which would make Uncle Mycroft's eyebrows rise (and ones which were probably right).
The answer to his dilemma came to him then. He had to take the best option, the one which allow him to leave immediately. One which his father won't bother arguing him out of (she did shoot him, after all), and one which would bring him the strongest set together.
Aunt Mary had Mum, and Mum had Uncle Mycroft. She had Aunt Irene. Take Aunt Mary's side, and Dad wouldn't be able to question you.
His Dad looked at Hamish at that moment. "Molly, your son is weighing his options and choosing his sides based on convenience," he snapped.
"It's what you do, Dad," said Hamish with a grin.
Mum smiled at Hamish. "You heard him. He gets that from you, my dear. Katie, could you pick up my glasses? We'll look at our choices once again."
"And anyway, I have to go," said Hamish. Dad rolled his eyes, and Uncle Mycroft surveyed his nephew.
Hamish rocked on his heels. "By the by, I agree with Aunt Mary. If you're finally convinced about getting rid of the old sofa, I think you should select the black one."
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