A Boy In Need

Chp 2

Honestly, this is just to get all of the fluff stuff filled before I pack this story full of angst. Also, sorry for the lateness! Also, also, I reference something from the first story in here. If you haven't read it, you will be shit out of luck my firend.

There are many examples of John and Sherlock being exceptional fathers in their own way. However there are four in particular that will be shown today. These for are not necessarily the greatest examples, nor are they the worst, in fact in some ways they are examples of nothing more than that Sherlock and John were in fact present through out Hamish's life, however they are the ones that have been chosen and that is all that will be said about that.

The first one takes place on a rainy day in the spring.

The rain was coming down in a fashion that reminded Sherlock of the time he spent in the tropics. It was heavy and abrasive and was soaking the entire city with excellent attention to detail. He'd never been a fan of rain, it washed away clues and often distracted is train of thought. However it wasn't the rain that was distracting him that day in particular. No, what kept distracting him from his experiment pertaining to his most recent case was the three year old attempting to see just how loud he could yell. Hamish had never been an overly shy child, but it was rare for his volume to exceed that of a launching rocket.

Sherlock turned away from his experiment on the kitchen table to face the boy sitting in the living room attempting to yell as loudly as possible. From what he could observe there was no reason for Hamish to be making such noises. He had been given lunch, he had received a nap at a reasonable time and had not woken too early from it, and he had an adequate supply of toys. As far as the detective could reason there was no purpose to the boy's noisiness.

"Hamish, there is no cause for such needless shouting."

Sherlock declared from his seat at the table. Hamish quieted for a moment to look over at his newly adoptive father and stared contemplatively. The detective was curious about the response but ignored his spiked interest in favor of his experiment. However the silence didn't last long as about two minutes later the yelling picked up again. Sherlock turned and watched as Hamish shouted at nothing in particular, just keeping one eye trained on his father as he sat in the middle of the living room shouting.

"Really Hamish, I haven't the time. Your dad will be home from work once he's picked up the shopping. It shouldn't be more than another half hour. Surely you can wait that long for some attention. Honestly, it's not as though I didn't read to you before your nap."

Sherlock reasoned with the three year old who studied him from the floor in now perfect silence. The detective's curiosity peeked and he observed the child quietly for a moment before returning to his experiment. It didn't take long for the toddler to begin his new favorite activity up again and this time the man could not simply let it go. He stood up and walked away from his experiment and towards the toddler who instantly shut his mouth once again. Sherlock leaned over and plucked the boy up from the floor and stood so he could look him in the eyes.

"Just what is it that you are up to?"

He questioned the boy speculatively. Hamish moved forward and grabbed his father's ears with each of his small hands and wiggled them. Sherlock blanked for a moment as he processed what was happening.

"You hear?"

Hamish asked curiously as he let go of the man's ears. Sherlock stared for a while before nodding slowly.

"Oh, you don't hear on the sofa."

Hamish continued thoughtfully and Sherlock felt the gears in his head turn restlessly before coming to an abrupt stop. Hamish was conducting an experiment with his father's hearing. John had told him about Hamish yelling at him as he lay in his mind palace on the sofa the other day to work out the details of the case. The toddler was testing the detective's hearing capabilities while at work it seemed.

"Well… no, I tend to block out noise when I enter my mind palace."

Sherlock explained, hoping to enlighten the curious boy. A slow smile was forming on the man's face as he considered just how proud he was of his son. He knew that technically Hamish didn't possess his genetic material, but at times this Holmesian aspect of him would shine through and it never failed to impress. It was possible that Sherlock's presence had that affect on the young developing mind, but he liked to think that the boy's parentage was meant to be in some cosmic way. Though he admitted it did sound rather ridiculous.

"Daddy said that. He said you talk to yourself because your silly and you ignore everything. Which is why he likes to call you funny names when you go there."

Hamish replied in a tone that harbored so little room for debate Sherlock could have sworn that he was explaining some sort of well known scientific theory. The detective was a bit taken back by the statement, but considered it fit given his husband's inclination towards humor.

"Hmm, well we'll have to put a stop to that. It's not nice to call someone names now is it?"

Sherlock posed and Hamish nodded vigorously in response.

"That's what I thought. Now, let's go make a fort out of your dad's jumpers. We can pretend we're pirates."

"It's already been decided Hamish."

Sherlock said sternly as he moved away from their living room window and turned to face his seven year old son. The boy was short for his age (no surprise there) but he held himself in a manner that made him appear much bigger. It was quite impressive really, although it was not the time to admire such traits as currently they were being used in defiance.

"Hamish, I know you may not think so now, but the violin is really such a lovely instrument. Besides lessons are only every other day and once you get the hang of it you can start to have some real fun using the thing."

John added softly from his seat on the sofa. Ever the mediator John was there to smooth away all the disturbances between members of the house hold. Hamish stood his ground and held his father's stare, not even breaking to look at his dad when he spoke.

"I learned when I was your age; it is an excellent way to strengthen the mind. One must indulge in such artistic practices to sharpen the senses."

Sherlock continued firmly and strode towards the boy, sizing him up as he went.

"And as your dad said, you may grow to find it fun. It is highly entertaining in its own right and-"

"That's what you think. You like the violin, not me."

Hamish interrupted with ferocity. Sherlock was stricken silent for a moment before drawing even nearer to the resilient youth.

"You will grow to like it, and you will thrive because of it."

The detective urged and looked over to John warily as he did so. His husband gave a shrug but said nothing. They had discussed their son's education previously and John had agreed that violin would be something he would benefit from. Though John himself did not understand why the detective felt so strongly for it, he respected the decision. However that meant Sherlock was left to stand by his choice on his own as John would not have much to argue for.

"You think that but you are wrong. I don't like music like you do, I don't feel it as you do. I will hate it."

Hamish protested and took his own bold step forward towards his opposing father.

"How will you know if you do not try?"

Sherlock questioned imperiously, looking down at the child with a growing sense of familiarity.

"I just do. It is a feeling I get. When I look at a violin, when I hear music, it doesn't make me feel like you do."

Hamish explained with mounting fervor.

"Oh? And how do you know what I feel."

Sherlock challenged with an arched brow.

"I know because I have felt it too, but with something different… I've watched you play, and I've seen the look on your face when you do it. It's as though you are some place different, a place where you can think clearly and feel deeply. I know this because I have seen the same look on my own face when I paint. I may be seven and I know you think my age makes me know less, but I know this. I know that painting is what I want to do, not playing a violin. If you make me play I will hate it, and because of it I will hate you too."

Hamish supplied with vehemence. John looked as though he were about to intervene when Sherlock held up his hand to stop him. The detective now knew where he'd seen this before, where he'd heard those words of passion in his past. They had been spoken by his own person at such an age when his mother had insisted he take piano like Mycroft. However he'd already had his eyes set on a violin since he'd heard his grandmother speak of how his grandfather used to play, how the music would sweep him away. His mother had been adamant at first, but in time she realized that her son had his heart set on the violin. He knew the feeling stirring in the young boy's bones because he had once felt it himself, and to see it again filled him with an unexpected pride. That Hamish would choose such a thing; forge his own path based on his own passions, not allowing himself to bend to the pressures of his parentage. They were raising someone who would not be swayed easily, one who would stand for what he believed in, someone so much like his dad. He could see the spark in the boy's eyes he'd seen in John's the day they'd discussed the blonde's role in investigations.

"It's painting lessons you desire then?"

Sherlock asked as he held back a grin. Hamish brightened up immediately and John looked completely shocked. The boy nodded his head furiously and then the detective did smile.

"Very well. We will search for a compatible instructor tomorrow."

Sherlock stated with determination, he would still be sure to find someone of merit, though he wasn't entirely sure he knew how to judge such a thing in a field he knew little about. Hamish broke out into a large grin and launched himself at his father, embracing him in a tight hug.

"Thank you father, you won't regret it!"

He announced merrily and then hugged John as the man stood from the sofa before racing off to his room. There was a moment of silence after the bedroom door was slammed shut and then John stepped closer to his husband.

"You know, he's far too smart for his own good. Did you here him just then? Sounded like a scholar. I blame you and that fancy prep school; I was never that bright at his age."

John said in mock distaste and Sherlock couldn't help but smirk.

"Well, to be fair you did receive one too many knocks to the head, might we deduce that you lost a few brain cells in the process."

Sherlock countered playfully which earned him a glare that held no real anger.

"You know, I'd punch you if you weren't so damn cute."

John replied and Sherlock scrunched his nose at the doctor's choice of words.

"Cute? I am not cute."

"Yes you are. And you're a good dad too."

John answered and then placed a kiss to the taller man's lips.

Hamish hadn't been attending school very long, but by the way he paraded around with his school bag and lunch pale you'd have thought he'd been doing it all his life. At least John thought so as he watched his son exit the school building with his normal quick stride that looked so much like a certain detective's he knew. He smiled at the thought of how the boy admired his father so much so that he copied his mannerisms and even declared a week ago that he planned to become a consulting pirate detective. When Hamish came to a stop in front of his dad he looked up with a bit of confusion.

"What is it Hamish, everything go alright at school?"

John inquired as he searched his son's face.

"I suppose so… dad, did you ever… has a girl ever… fancied you?"

Hamish asked cautiously.

"Well, as surprising as it might sound, yes. Quite a few actually. Why do you ask?"

John said with a hint of laughter in his voice. Hamish turned and viewed the crowed of school children for a beat before looking up to his father.

"There is a girl here, Susie. She appears to fancy me. At least she said so in the note she sent me during lessons. But I'm not sure what to do."

Hamish confessed as he retrieved the crinkled note from his trouser pocket. From what the doctor could see the note was written in crayon and presumably by another nine year old in Hamish's class.

"Well, that depends on one thing really. Do you fancy her as well?"

John asked softly as he recalled his own tales of young love during primary school, mostly with girls that were older and with long braids if he remembered correctly. The boy shifted restlessly for a moment as he considered what his dad had said before he began speaking again.

"I… well I suppose I do. She's pretty, and she helps me with my math lessons in class."

Hamish explained as he stared intently at the note in his small hands.

"In that case there's only one thing to do. Tell her you fancy her as well. Life is too short for being indecisive Hamish. If you like someone then you should tell them, it's as simple as that, you shouldn't ever feel ashamed to let someone know that you care. Especially if you consider all the time you could waste where you two might become closer, be happier. I know I lost much too much time with your father by being too scared. I'd hate to see the same thing happen to you."

John informed the school boy knowledgably. Hamish stood for a moment before slipping the paper back into his pocket and smiling up at the blonde.

"You're right, I'll tell her tomorrow."

Hamish declared as he took hold of his dad's hand and they walked towards the tube station.

"There's a lad. If you're lucky she may even give you a kiss."

John mentioned with a nudge to the boy's shoulder as he laughed lightly. Hamish looked up at him with a wicked grin and arched his eyebrow.

"You mean if she's lucky."

He drawled out and John broke into a deep full laugh at that. The doctor scooped up the boy playfully as he chuckled and rubbed his knuckles into the brown mop of hair.

"That's my boy!"

The defiant nine year old soon turned to an equally defiant ten year old. One who was just a bit too bold for his own good. Or at least John had said as much during the long cab ride home from the prep school. The doctor was fuming mad, and even his rebellious son was hesitant to cross him further. Once they entered their flat Sherlock was already poised in the living room and at attention. He knew that while John was often the softer more 'reasonable' parent, he was also the disciplinarian in most scenarios. So there was little doubt from anyone that the furious look on the man's face meant that he was seconds away from giving his son a piece of his mind.

"Why is it that I'm receiving calls in the middle of my work day that my son is fighting in school?"

He asked angrily through clenched teeth. Hamish shuffled awkwardly for a moment before shooting a pleading glance towards his father who simply waved in encouragement.

"It wasn't my fault! It was Donovan, he was being a dick!"

Hamish shouted defensively. Sherlock muttered something that could have been 'figures' but shut up when he was given a scathing look from his spouse. John shut his eyes while he processed the information and then pinned the boy with a searing stare.

"I don't care what he was doing, I care about you. It is not ok for you to use violence for anything. If you've got a problem tell a teacher or your father and me. And watch your language!"

John bellowed and Hamish cringed minutely at the tone in his dad's voice.

"We were out in the school yard though, he was about to hit one of the younger kids. Besides he's a brute, the only reason he goes there is because his mom gets so much in child support from that ugly dinosaur lover who knocked her up, he only understands violence."

Hamish argued and balled his hands into fists at his sides. John blanked for a moment at the name he'd given Anderson and wondered just how such a thing even crossed his mind but he quickly ignored the inquiry in favor of continuing their conversation.

"It is not your job to teach him such a lesson, Hamish. I think that's what your dad is trying to explain."

Sherlock interjected and Hamish was about to protest when John pointed towards the stair case forcefully.

"Just go to your room. Think about what you did today, because you've disappointed me, make no mistake about that. I don't care how justified you felt, what you did today makes me feel so… you're better than that."
John demanded roughly and Hamish stared wide eyed for a moment before heading towards the stairs. When he reached the second step he turned to look back at his dad.

"I'm sorry I disappointed you dad, but I won't apologize for doing it. If I hadn't done something he would have hurt that kid, then I would have been disappointed in myself."

Hamish said softly before retreating into his room. The silence in the flat was stifling and John could feel his husband's eyes burning holes into the back of his neck.

"Whatever it is you want to say, just say it."

He blurted out turning to face the detective.

"I was just going to say he reminds me an awful lot of someone I know."

Sherlock admitted tentatively. John considered for a moment that Hamish's actions did remind him a bit of himself. He'd never necessarily been fond of violence given his own childhood, but when needed he wasn't hesitant to dole it out. Perhaps he had been more upset than had been needed, but he certainly didn't want his son to think that fighting was the way to solve all of his problems. John nodded at Sherlock to show that he understood and then looked up in the direction of his son's room. He thought about how he was at that age and how he'd gotten into similar scrapes for just as noble of causes. In retrospect he figured his anger may have stemmed more from his desire for his son to be so much more than himself, but if he thought about it what he'd done was good and with pure intention. Besides, Hamish was only human, and he was his son.

John climbed the stairs slowly after giving the topic more thought and tapped on the boy's door lightly. Hamish said it was unlocked and the doctor took that as an invitation to enter the room. The child looked up at him cautiously and shifted nervously on his feet. John sighed and observed his son for a beat before moving towards him and giving him a hug. Hamish seemed confused but accepted the hug and returned it with hesitance.

"Hamish, I don't want you to ever think that standing up for someone or something is wrong. I just hate to see you resort to such measures. If you have no other choice than to use violence, then I suppose it's what you have to do, but you should remember that usually there is a better way. I'm still upset about today, but I respect your choice to stand up to a bully."

John said simply and then kissed the boy on the top of his head before backing away.

"Thanks dad."

"No problem Hamish, just remember what I said… I love you son."

"I love you too."

Whatever you might have thought of the previous examples doesn't really matter, what really matters is that you understand that John and Sherlock do not make a habit of being bad parents. Another important thing to understand would be that Hamish was not thinking of these examples or any others when he ran out into the rain after the art show. He was not thinking of them then, and he certainly wasn't thinking of them when the sleek black car pulled up behind him.

So that was my attempt at fluff… I may need to work on that.