"Smile big now, boys!" Mrs. Hudson said proudly as John lifted Hamish and swung him up into his arms. The baby squawked a little, before giggling when John tickled his stomach, and Sherlock grabbed his foot. Mrs. Hudson pressed the capture button on her camera and a flash went off, snagging the image out of time and preserving it forever.
Hamish reeled at the flash, his eyes getting wide and staring at the camera in sheer amazement, and then reached out for his Papa. Sherlock took his son into his arms, and tried to talk to John while the infant began to tug at his curls relentlessly. "John, are we still going out to Sussex tomorrow?" He winced as Hamish got a big handful of hair and tugged.
John reached out and began to untangle the mess of fingers and hair as he spoke, "We should be able to. If Kelly is still able to babysit, then there should be no problem. God, Sherlock, your hair in a jungle. I think we might've lost this hand." He cooed to Hamish, before detaching him fully from the detective. "Nope. False alarm. But, you do need a haircut." John ran his own hand through the curls to emphasize his point.
Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "You liked my hair length last night." Mrs. Hudson stifled a small, shocked giggled.
John blushed a little. "Yeah, well, that was before I lost my son, a pen, and the kitchen sink in your mop." He pushed Sherlock slightly.
The detective straightened his jacket then went over to the mantle and fixed the giant banner that read 'Happy 1st Birthday Hamish!' in big, red letters. "After Sussex, I'll ask Molly if she'll give me a trim."
John nodded, before returning Hamish to his playpen in the center of the room. The toy cars and stuffed animals had been thrown to the far end of the pen, and Hamish sat cooing over his Papa's old cell phone and a plastic magnifying glass, before picking up the fabric book about a dog named Spot that Mrs. Hudson had picked up. Even though he couldn't read yet, Hamish enjoyed being like Daddy and Papa and flipping through the pages. "He's a smart kid for only one year." John remarked.
"Well of course he is, look at who he has for parents." Lestrade remarked from the doorway, having just arrived to the party with Molly.
Mrs. Hudson hugged their party guests and directed them to where there was food and a place to set their presents. Sherlock attached his own comment onto Lestrade's, "Well of course he's going to be a genius then. There's no logic that says else wise."
"We're still working on this whole 'modesty' thing." John said, brushing past everyone to get the tea tray out, just as Mycroft arrived, Kelly trailing behind him, a hand shyly on his coat.
"Kelly," Mycroft said as he coaxed the girl out into the room, "This is Lestrade and Molly. They work with your uncles."
Kelly relaxed a little. "Hi, everyone." Mycroft nudged her again. "Uncle John, I brought Hamish a present." She held out a small box with a purple bow. Hamish started to kick and reach up in his play pen when he noticed that Kelly had come into the room. The present was abandoned on the coffee table and the thirteen year old ran over to her cousin. "Hi, Hamish!" She picked him up and held him with ease. "Are you excited for our day tomorrow?" The baby bounced in her arms and reached for her ponytail, giving it a tug once he'd gotten it. "Ouch, Hamish. Don't pull." He tugged again.
"Here, Kelly." Sherlock took the boy from his niece. "Hamish, sit with your Uncle Lestrade. He doesn't have any hair for you to pull."
"Hey," Lestrade started, but never got to finish as his godson was suddenly being set into his arms.
"What is that child's fascination with hair?" Mrs. Hudson remarked as she pulled up a chair and poured herself a cup of tea.
"I don't know, but he's extremely light." Lestrade said, "Don't you ever feed this kid?"
John rolled his eyes. "He has his Papa's appetite. I try, but he won't eat if he's preoccupied with something. But thank God he doesn't have Sherlock's sleep habits anymore. He sleeps through the night pretty well these days."
"That's good. I remember Kelly used to sleep so little, it drove her mom nuts." Mycroft said, but then promptly left the subject again. He didn't talk about Breanne since her accident and death when Kelly was seven. "So tomorrow I'll drop Kelly off at nine, and you'll call me when you're on the train back?"
John nodded. "Thanks again, Kelly." The girl nodded, her mouth full of the pizza she found on the table.
"So, you two are officially going to pursue the case then?" Lestrade asked, trying to sip his tea around Hamish's grabbing hands.
Sherlock scoffed, "Of course. A murder-suicide with no cause of death? Wouldn't miss it for the world." Hamish began bouncing eagerly again. "See that, John? Murder is exciting, isn't it Hamish?" The baby cooed and reached out for Sherlock again.
"I swear to God, Sherlock." John glared at him. "Is it like a disease in the Holmes genes?"
"He's not the one who moved in with a total stranger after being wounded in war, then ran around London solving grisly murder cases at all hours of the night." Mycroft pointed out.
The child at the center of the party reached up for his Papa's curls again, but Sherlock caught his tiny wrist before he could get trapped again. Hamish scowled and began to sulk in Sherlock's arms. "Oh, you're right, John." Molly said, "I can see it now. He does look a lot like Sherlock."
The party laughed, causing Sherlock to frown on impulse, accidently driving Molly's point home. But before he could correct his facial features, Lestrade was able to snap a picture on his phone. The laughter continued, and when it finally died down, John stood and asked, "Who wants cake?"