Authors Note: First fanfic, hope you guys like it. Bit of a running away with characters not really cannon at all. Started off in my head as more of a Johnlock story and has turned into a Hamish story. Gets more violent and more naughty (not by much there's a bit more going on to be doing that sort of thing). Anyway hope you like

Sherlock and John looked around the pub, pulling off their scarves and hats from the cold of winter in London, for Hamish and his latest girlfriend. The Rose and Crown had that familiar pub smell of wood and beer. It was dark the only light came from the yellow lamps that hung around the room. Sherlock watched John at the bar, the small man was beginning to show his age, his previously straight back was now slightly hunched. His blonde hair had become a sandy grey. The same went for Sherlock, it had been almost thirty years since he had met John, his dark curls were now streaked with white, his eyes surrounded by wrinkles and he was beginning to need glasses.
Their son on the other hand was in his last year of university and brimming with energy. He had Sherlock's height, hair and bone structure but his eyes and mouth were John's, and his heart. He spoke a little quickly at times and often enjoyed murder investigations too much for John but otherwise their son was perfect.
It was fifteen minutes later when Hamish entered the pub with the girlfriend, his hair had grown a little more and he hadn't shaved in a week Sherlock noted quietly. John pointed out that Hamish looked positively ecstatic as he dragged the girl to the bar to get their drinks before heading over to his dads.
Expecting the same type from his high school years John and Sherlock were, for once, pleasantly surprised.
She was shorter than Hamish by almost a foot, her hair was wavy blonde, reaching the small of her back. Her brown eyes were a little glassy looking to Sherlock, maybe she wore contacts? He couldn't start analysing this girl, Hamish never liked it, not out loud at least. Her teeth were slightly crooked as well, just slightly, her smile though was kind and there was a little suggestion of defiance in her raised eye brows.
"Dads, this is Morgan"
The conversation was easy with the girl, she laughed at John's jokes and didn't get offended by Sherlock's corrections, her hands clasped Hamish's lightly beneath the table.
Her accent told Sherlock she had lived just north of London but had caught some of the Northern accent from University, just as Hamish had. Hamish and she had been vague acquaintances in their first year and lived together in their second with friends. They had started going out a month later and here they were in early December visiting Hamish's parents.
She studied English Literature, with a current focus on the Bronte sisters, top of her class as well. In many ways she and Hamish weren't much alike, Hamish studied Chemistry and liked playing chess while Morgan seemed to have a knack for cards and the humanities. Yet they seemed to have a common interest in movies, although they seemed to disagree a lot, about almost everything... Maybe this wasn't a great relationship after all, constant bickering.
She was clever as well, surprisingly so, able to pull up odd bits of knowledge relating to the discussion. Quick witted, not afraid to make herself look like an idiot to ask questions, John could see why Hamish liked her. She was exciting but easy and comforting.
"Mr Holmes, I know Hamish told you not to but I can see your dying to deduct the hell out of me. Don't worry about Hamish if he really doesn't want to hear he can just shove his fingers in his ears," Sherlock liked her, John could tell, she wasn't looking for a show, just for something to make Sherlock feel a little more comfortable. She laughed at Hamish as he pouted at her. Hamish had had a difficult time when people he knew were 'deducted' by his dad, but here was a girl who didn't mind what people thought of her, as long as she was happy with herself. She was happy with herself with Hamish, that much was obvious, and Sherlock and John obviously came with that.
Sherlock began to really look at this girl, the way he did people on cases, his eyes detecting every detail.
"You exercise, running and some sort of self defence, you read a lot and drink too much tea. You had a scone for mid afternoon snack and you prefer to have one side plain and other with jam and butter. You had chips for both dinner and lunch, lunch at burger king and dinner at Hamish's chip shop he likes. You're close with your family, two younger brothers and a sister. You ring home a lot, always prefer to know that everyone is safe than pretend they don't exist. Your father works for the Underground and your mother is a housewife, you work at a book shop as well and you get your clothes from places which aren't exactly fashionable as you are far more concerned with long lasting comfortable clothes than the way you look. Oh and you are mildly long sighted."
"Right on pretty much all accounts, didn't catch everything though" She smiled happily, obviously impressed but not surprised by Sherlock's torrent of information.
"What did I miss?"
"If I can keep something from the great Sherlock Holmes then I think I'd like to keep it" An angry snort was emitted by Sherlock but other than that the subject was quickly changed by Hamish to his final project.

Hamish and Morgan stood in the middle of Marylebone station, he held her close, he knew it would only be a few days till he saw her again but he'd miss her. He always missed her, even when she was there.
"I'll miss you" he lightly kissed her nose as she looked up at him, smiling the way you do when you've had a couple of pints and found someone warm to hold in the cold London air.
"I'll miss you too, but I need to see my family again, I haven't seen them since school started."
"I know, you say that every time I try and get you to never leave me,"
"Stop talking and kiss me so I don't miss my train,"
"You don't half hate romantics do you?"
He kissed her softly but suddenly very aware of his father flapping his coat impatiently.
She pulled away slowly, attempting to savour the moment of bliss, but something behind Hamish caught her eye. A sliver of metal in a coat, a sharp eye turned their way, and figures in black littered around the quiet station. She looked over at Holmes, after everything she had heard of him surely he would have noticed. But no he was staring intently at John's happy expression.
"Hamish, when you turn around, pretend nothing is wrong, take your Dad's and get them out of here, take the longest most indirect route home or get to your uncle, just don't let them follow you,"
His brow became knitted into confusion as to what she had just murmured in his ear. He would have asked but her expression told him to wait a moment, let her tell him what she needed and do it. Do it or she would hurt him, this was the girl who cried about stepping on a snail.
Morgan stepped over to John, she pulled him into a hug, somewhat awkward, especially when she urgently told him the same.

It was only a minute later that John realised she had taken his gun.
She had pulled it on a man in a grey trench coat, not even taking a moment to think before the trigger was pulled. John stared at the body, not hearing her yelling at them all to run, it was only when he looked up did he see four more bodies scattering the station. This couldn't be a shooting, no Sherlock would have known what was going to happen, surely? He would not have put Hamish in danger at the very least.
But then she said he'd been wrong.

Morgan was running now, all the people who had been watching her were dead. She held two guns now. She had thrown Watson's on the floor for being utter shit. She had told Hamish to run, what did he do?Yelled at her, yelled for her to stop, not that he understood. That was until they pushed him out the way so they could get a better shot at her. As she jumped over the turnstile she saw blood on her leg, a bullet had grazed her as she had run.