A Boy In Need
Chp 1
Here it is guys!
"Oh my! That is impressive!"
"You did that? No!"
"How long did that take you? Must have been ages!"
"You are a natural! Your parents must be very proud."
"Have you considered becoming a professional?"
"I'm not sure I understand the name."
The praise was endless, but there were many who had come to question the title of Hamish's piece, not just the husky blonde woman. It came as no surprise, the title hadn't been meant to be universally understood. Just something he thought could bring a smile to his parent's faces. However, in order for that to occur they would have to be present. This was his first art showing and he'd entered one painting. He wasn't an overly shy boy but his art wasn't something he normally put on display, much like his father's musical talents. His dad had encouraged him to do this, promised he would be here. After three hours he had little faith that the man intended to meet that promise. The show would be ending soon, the judges were already wrapping up. He could tell by how the third man had stopped tapping his pen so frequently. When he looked back to the woman he gave a weak smile and turned to observe his work.
"It's sort of an inside joke ma'am, I wouldn't expect you would."
He explained kindly and she nodded with a smile and then made her way off to the next stand. Hamish debated just walking out, but he was a good couple of miles away from home at Baker Street and it was raining. He shouldn't have let Mrs. Hudson drop him off in the first place, that would have been smart, but that had been before when he was still hopeful. After hour three he was just standing there for lack of anything better to do. It wasn't as though he'd thought to ask someone else to pick him up; he certainly didn't have cab money.
The judges were beginning to set up the stage to announce the winner and everyone seemed to be gathering but Hamish couldn't be bothered. He hadn't gone there to enter any competition; he'd gone there so his parents could be proud of him. They often didn't understand his artwork, or really appreciate it like his art professors or friends did, but if they could see how other people reacted to his paintings, then perhaps they might begin to understand. Or at least he had hoped they would. At the moment he just wished they'd have shown up. Even the thirty year old in the stand next to him had people there to support him. Hamish wished they'd stop fawning over his work. The brush strokes were sloppy and they all had highly irritating voices.
"Hamish Watson."
The judge's voice echoed through the large show room and Hamish looked up with surprise. Out of all the pieces there he hadn't expected his name to have been called at all. He approached the stage as several people began waving him over. When he finally made it up the older judge firmly gripped his left shoulder and smiled down approvingly.
"How about a big hand for Hamish here, he's our youngest contestant yet to win first place!"
He announced to the crowd and the room erupted in applause. Hamish smiled and nodded appropriately and wondered just how long he was expected to stay on stage.
"Everyone should be sure to stop at his stand, its number 34. His piece is stunning and does a simply beautiful job of giving a message of peace and the humble elegance of nature. When you go to see it you will notice he's used oil paints on canvas and the main focus of the work appears to be a duck resting on the surface of a lake in what appears to be the center of a forest of sorts. The painting is titled 'Vatican Cameos' and is this years first prize winner!"
Once the man finished there was another round of applause followed by the calling of the second and third place winners. From atop the stage he had a perfect view of the entire room despite how large it was and could see that his fathers had managed to miss his shining moment. It hadn't been what he'd been dreaming of or anything, but he'd have liked them to have seen it. The only reason he'd joined was because Mycroft had mentioned it to his dad who had taken it upon himself to sign Hamish up. He was only thirteen but it hardly seemed appropriate to him for his dad to be making such personal decisions for him. But he'd agreed because his dad had promised to be there along with father. Hamish had painted that stupid duck just to make what he considered to be a clever play on words that only his parents could appreciate. They hadn't come though, and now he just looked like an idiot, felt like an idiot.
Once the prizes had been handed out they were free to go back to looking at the surrounding art work. Hamish wouldn't have done it they'd paid him. Despite the crowd that had formed around his painting he began packing his things up and gathered the useless piece of art. A few people attempted to pat him on the back or congratulate him but he ignored them in a fashion that would have made Mrs. Hudson cringe. Hamish wasn't in the mood to be bothered with trivial things such as manners. His parents had promised to be there, they had given their word. Even his father who was normally loathed to participate in such social events hadn't appeared to be lying.
The rain outside was coming down in buckets and given that it was already eight in the evening it was quite dark. If his cell phone hadn't been broken during one of his father's experiments earlier in the week he might have tried to call someone. He looked up at one of the CCTV cameras on top of a corner shop and wondered if uncle Mycroft would see him and send a car around. However he was busy with some nonsense in Korea so is was doubtful. After a half hour of walking his clothes and bag were soaked and his painting ruined. He looked down at the first place winning painting that had done nothing but lead to a miserable and highly disappointing night. Suddenly he was past irritation, past contempt, or annoyance, or hurt. He was just angry, so angry that he threw the offending painting to the ground and kicked a rather large hole through the canvas.
Hamish spent the rest of what was left of his walk home with clenched fist and muttered curses. He thought of everything he hated about his fathers, every time they'd let him down, all of the broken promises. It only made him feel worse. In fact at one point he could have broken into angry tears, but he couldn't be sure do to all of the rain. Hamish wasn't entirely sure he wanted to return to Baker Street, but he didn't have much choice given the weather. So he continued his journey there and thought of a life without parents who couldn't stick to their promises.
It's important in this moment to note that this was the first event that would send Hamish down a path that would undoubtedly have a great affect on him. For better or worse is something that could hardly be determined so early on. However things would certainly change. But it is also important to realize that while the situation Hamish finds himself in is not a particularly nice one, and he is completely within his rights to be angry with his fathers, that John and Sherlock are not bad parents. In fact there are at least several dozen other examples in which they were doing things just exactly right in their own unique way. Examples which may be necessary for those of you reading to be aware of before you start making your own assumptions about these men's ability to raise a child.