Based on the gifset of 'doomslock' on tumblr: post/26181562830

HAMISH AND ALEXANDRA

His ice-blue eyes smiled at the girl in front of him as his lips curved into an arc. She sighed, making small clouds against her mouth. It was devilishly cold. She didn't even know why she consented being here when it was such a terrible winter outside (one of the rarest in London) but she knew one thing for sure – she had to meet Sherlock Holmes and to start meeting him more regularly in order to get more and more information for her father. Otherwise, he would be extremely disappointed.

His ice-blue eyes followed the girl's short hair and frowned. He licked his upper lip, thoughtfully leaving the tip of his tongue there, then clicked it. Sighed – a sigh of a desperate and anxious man rather than of a frustrated one. Tapped the dimmed window with his long fingers several times.

'Could you please stop doing that, Sherlock? It's annoying. And I am trying to read!'

Sitting on his big chair, John was holding a newspaper and was scanning through rather than reading it, paying much more attention to the crimes of the week as he probably should have. He closed the newspaper and directed his eyes at his husband. Stood like this for several seconds.

'What?'

John supposed Sherlock was looking at Hamish down there. Their boy left the house an hour ago and it was freakishly cold out there, so the logic proved Sherlock was getting a bit uneasy about his son's health. Or at least this is what a normal father would do. Like John. Sherlock was thinking about an entirely different thing, most probably.

'Hamish is outside.'

John smiled and put his head back, continuing to smirk. He placed his hands under his chin and entwined his perfectly shaped fingers.

'He is ok, Sherlock. He is wearing the warm coat you bought for him last Christmas. He is fine.'

Sherlock sighed once again. He knew Hamish was fine and he could not argue over that with a doctor. But there was something else troubling him.

'Talking to a girl.'

John let out a confused look which closed down Sherlock's spine. Right. That was it. That was the 'other thing' Sherlock has been thinking about. He is desperately jealous that his son – his one and only – may leave him and may go mad for a girl. The anxiety on Sherlock's face was slowly fading away now, just to be replaced with an odd look of curiosity. John knew Sherlock wanted to know more about the girl but was afraid – no, Sherlock Holmes was never afraid – but was unsure that his methods won't do a lot on a 10-or-something-year-old girl. He can deduce her, of course, but what good that would do? Only getting Hamish angry, which Sherlock knew perfectly well would be the result.

'When can I meet your dads?'

Her voice trembled and shrieked a bit out of her whisper. Hamish sighed and shrugged. It was ok for her to meet John – he was friendly and would have welcomed her at 221B any time she was around. He would have boiled some tea and would have given her Mrs Hudson's biscuits. He is alright – children tend to adore him.

But Hamish knew perfectly well that all those children are more desperate to meet his Dad called Sherlock Holmes. They've heard plenty of stories about him – some real, some not so – and for them he was just like the hero from the fairytales. Except they knew they could meet and touch him, talk to him. Hamish has suddenly become the most adored kid at school. And not because he was a nice friend – no, all of the children were talking behind his back that he was strange and a freak. It was all because he was Hamish Watson-Holmes: his father was the infamous sleuth who might deduce anyone just by a look at their face. Probably Alexandra was one of those kids.

'Soon, just not yet...'

Hamish did not know how to respond. He liked Alexandra; liked her a lot. But he knew that if his father were to meet her, it would be a terrible experience for all three of them. When meeting a new 'friend' of Hamish's, Sherlock tended to be ridiculous and extremely crude which resulted in crying children and angry parents.

'But why? Are you ashamed of me? Am I not good enough?'

No, of course not. She was the perfect friend and the perfect girl. It was not that. How can she not see he was not ashamed of her but of his father's future reactions?

'No, no, no. Just it's... My father is not good with... uhm... people.'

Alexandra frowned. Her father has warned her that this might happen. Sherlock Holmes was not easy to get and one should be really calm and very patient. Meeting Dr Watson would be a success too – after all, he was the key to Sherlock Holmes's frozen heart. Hamish and Dr Watson. If she has a control over them, she can easily control Holmes as well. Father would be proud of her.

'Can I meet your other Dad, then?'

Hamish swallowed and looked up. He noticed his father's contours behind the transparent curtains. Sherlock stepped back, realising the boy was staring at him.

John sighed once again and clapped with his hands.

'Fine. Shall I go and say 'hi'?'

John knew Sherlock so well that he was able to decipher at any second what this great mastermind of his was thinking and calculating. And despite all Sherlock's refusals that John cannot understand and cannot help even a bit, John knew that without him Holmes was no one. For instance, in a humble situation like this one. John handled all of this type. The 'ordinary life situations', as Sherlock used to call them.

Sherlock smirked in response. There was no one better than John. He knew how to handle those stupid things and how to take the best out of them. He heard him jumping out of his comfy chair, putting on his favourite green jacket and popping out.

Sherlock stuck his nose against the cold window once again and his eyes followed John who was now approaching the children with both his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

'So... You must be Alexandra, am I right?'

The girl nodded, making her hair go up and down, up and down. John smiled and hugged Hamish with one hand. The boy chuckled as he felt the warm body of his father pressed to his. He had to admit it was getting colder.

'Alexandra, it's getting late and it's very cold.'

'Yeah, you are right Dr Watson. I should probably get home.'

'If you want to, Hamish and I can come with you. We can get a cab but we won't leave you alone at this hour. Where do you live?'

'South Kensington. But there's really no need at all.'

Alexandra's look got anxious. John knew children's minds and thinking pretty well – he immediately understood she was afraid of something. He made a barely visible frown.

'It's not... far away from here... We can do that. Or...' he paused, looking at her face getting paler, 'Or we can go upstairs, have a cup of hot tea, and call your parents to come pick you up.'

Alexandra swallowed hard. This one was unexpected. She didn't know what and how to do it. Father has not warned her about this. She thought Dr Watson was the easy one. If she was to go upstairs, she was to meet Sherlock Holmes too. And what would happen if they call her father? What would happen if they realise her father is their greatest enemy?

'Fine. I'll come with you and we'll call him,' Alexandra nodded and swallowed again. He was probably going to send a cab for her. Thereafter, he would shout at her and then cry and hug her, apologising for the quarrel. At least, she could gather some information. Finally, she was at 221B and she was about to meet the great Sherlock Holmes. The greatest enemy and the greatest thrive of her father. Alexandra Moriarty followed Hamish and Dr Watson as they quickly opened the door of the flat.