Hamish - 16

Lock - 12

Sophie - 10

Benedict and David - 7


Chapter 3:

Father and Son

Not flesh of my flesh,
not bone of my bone,
yet still very much my own.

Never forget
for one single minute
that you grew not under my heart,
but in it.

Consulting Detective Sherlock Holmes had a very peculiar relationship with each of his children. The five of them were different, all of them were different shades of one same colour, but yet very different. Every child had their temper, a way to understand things, certain level of curiosity, a considerable amount of stubbornness - inherited from their father obviously and certain amount of sweetness and calmness - inherited from their mother obviously.

Let's start from the beginning.

Sherlock and Hamish had a relationship where everything had happened. The detective had met his first son when he was two years old and when he could barely articulate word. Sherlock remembered that morning when saw Jane and Hamish for the first time in two years. Both were alone, sad, broken. Jane was fighting for her son's life - Sherlock was fighting to not to relapse and find them again. When Jane forgave him and Sherlock joined the family, Hamish accepted him as his father, never asking why he was meeting his father now and not before. Sherlock helped Hamish and became his father, loving him and discovering things about him little by little. But Moriarty had another plans and Sherlock had to fake his own death and leave his family again, when another baby was on the way.

When Sherlock came back things were difficult. Jane had already rebuilt her life with another man, she was adopting Sophie, Lock didn't know who he was and Hamish didn't want to see him. Explaining Hamish what had happened had not been easy, but the boy understood - somehow. But when Hamish asked why he was the way he was, with developmental delay and hearing problems, Sherlock knew he could not keep it from his son any more. Telling his son he had done drugs and that one night he was so high that he hit Jane and pushed her down the stairs had not been easy. Hamish cried and asked Sherlock if he ever loved him. When Sherlock said he had always loved him, Hamish replied you don't hurt the people you love.

You don't hurt the people you love.

It hurt.

But it was true.

Sherlock had to explain his son, when Hamish was only six years old, that he hurt Jane when she was pregnant, expecting him, and that he was born before time, very earlier, because of him. And that because of him, because of the damage he had caused, Hamish was like that. Hamish said, between tears, that because of him he would always be ill and retarded. Sherlock cried because no matter how much he wanted to go back in time and change all the things he had done, he couldn't. He could never do it. Sherlock knew the horrors he had done will always haunt him, since the moment he was taken to the States to recover and he was told his son and Jane had both a heart attack and almost died to his last breath and even possibly beyond the grave.

Jane told Hamish she could forgive Sherlock because she loved him. Hamish said he forgave Sherlock, not only because he loved him, but also because he was his father and that he was in his heart even though he had hurt him when he was inside his mummy's tummy.

It broke Sherlock's heart.

But the years passed and people say time fixes and heals. Hamish never said anything about it. But he loved Sherlock. He loved him just like a child would love his father - no less and no more. Well, maybe a bit more. But he loved him. And Sherlock loved Hamish. Sherlock had always loved him, since that night when Jane told him, between tears, that she might be pregnant and that she didn't know what to do. The detective had loved Hamish since, holding Jane's hand, both read the blood test showing she was indeed pregnant of her first boyfriend, Sam Sawyer, a brainless young man who immediately after knowing she was pregnant with his child ran away leaving her and the baby alone.

But Sherlock held her hand, told everyone it was his child and married her so she would keep her baby. No matter how much of Sam Sawyer Sherlock always saw on Hamish face, because the boy was growing more and more like him and less and less like Jane, Sherlock loved him. He loved him no matter what. Sherlock loved Hamish independently of what Hamish was or choose to be.

Always.

The same thing or at least something very similar happened with Lock. Sherlock and Jane tried for him very hard. They tried and tried until one night after a case Sherlock got back home and Jane was waiting for him holding a positive pregnancy test. When he was told he was going to be a daddy again, Sherlock felt an overwhelming thing on his chest. Every time after making love, after leaving his seed deep into Jane, Sherlock kissed her still empty belly and, closing his eyes, he dreamt of a baby. The detective watched Jane's belly growing and growing after each week, after each month and almost until the last moment when, seven months later, he had to fake his own death and disappear for a long time.

Sherlock remembered being so close when Lock was born. He was just in the next room listening to Jane screaming, the doctors telling her to push and then his baby crying when he came to the world. And then, watching Jane breastfeeding, watching her with their son and telling Lock that if his daddy were alive he would be proud of him - this made Sherlock feel like the worst person in the world. The detective knew how much not only Jane but also Hamish and now Lock needed him, but he also knew he had to stay 'dead' otherwise his family would be killed. He had less than ten minutes to say good bye. Sherlock held Lock in his arms and asked him to look after Jane and to love his brother Hamish. He told Lock he was very proud of him and that he loved him. And finally, Sherlock kissed Jane and asked her for forgiveness, to wait for him and that he would always love her.

Coming back from the death had not been easy. The first time Sherlock saw his son Lock, the boy was two years old and he didn't know who he was. Lock was calling another man, Matthew Morstan, who was Jane's partner, but later turned out to be Sebastian Moran, 'Daddy'. The little boy loved that man and Sherlock was a mere strange. But after a long time the boy started to love Sherlock and after the incident in which he almost died, Sherlock and Lock got closer. Jane and him were a couple again and Lock never asked for that man he knew under the name of 'Matthew Morstan'. Even when that man had practically been a paternal figure for him for most of his life until Sherlock came back from the death, Lock never asked about him. Jane told him and Hamish he had died because he was ill and no one ever mentioned a word about him.

The years passed, and Lock developed a talent for music. Since always he liked to look at his father playing the violin and writing little dots on a special sheet of paper his father once explained it was composing. Lock was also very clever and at the age of four he could already read and when he turned five Sherlock gave him a violin so he could have his own and taught him how to play. Once the boy had picked up the basics, which happened really fast, he could play any song he wanted and even compose. Contrary to what Sherlock thought was the best, the boy joined a group in school and he was the youngest to have ever joined and to have ever play in a school band.

Sophie... Sophie was Sherlock's weakness. The detective had loved that little one since she was nothing but a little baby. When he and Jane adopted her she became Sophia Watson Holmes and she was their first daughter. Sophie was that little thing running to and fro along the flat wearing, always, pink or colourful clothes, sometimes a princess disguise and a plastic crown, sometimes all sorts of disguises that had been a present from her Grandparents Holmes and sometimes even naked until she turned three. Sophie was that little pink thing Sherlock liked to hold in his arms and kiss her belly to make her laugh and giggle. Sophie was also Jane's first daughter and therefore, as she was the only little girl in the house, both Jane and Sherlock spoilt her enormously. Sophie once said 'I want my room to be pink' and the following week Sherlock had got her room painted pink and decorated just as she wanted. When Sophie was sad or upset, she would ran to Sherlock's arms and every time she had a nightmare she asked Sherlock for a cuddle and for a story.

The day Sophie was told she was not their biological child, but adopted, Sophie cried. She was four years old when she asked why his brothers were like their parents, Hamish blond like Jane and Lock dark haired like Sherlock, while she had brown hair. She asked while Hamish and Lock had blue eyes like Jane and she had brown eyes like no one else in their family. Jane knew they would have to tell her someday and Sherlock, even when he didn't want to, agreed. When Sophie asked what meant to be adopted, Sherlock said it meant she was given to them and that she didn't came from Jane's tummy like Hamish and Lock. When Sophie asked why she was given to them and why she wasn't born from Jane, Jane said that she didn't know, but that they would always give her all the love she needed. When Sophie asked if she was given to them because her real parents didn't love her, Sherlock said that they would never know. Jane and Sherlock knew Sophie had been left on a bin when she was merely a few days old. But they also knew Sophie didn't need to know that.

The twins were an amazing example of how alike and how different twins can be. When the twins were born, Jane had a c-section and the first baby to come to the world was Benedict. Both parents remembered hearing a baby crying, quite loudly, and the doctor saying, jokingly, that they didn't need to check on his vital signs because of the way he was crying - Benedict had quite a pair of lungs! Two minutes later David was born and he didn't cry. Sherlock was holding Jane's hand when he watched the doctor taking the baby away from them and putting something into his mouth and pressing a stethoscope to his little chest. Jane's grip on Sherlock's hand tightened while waiting for any news about the second baby. David didn't cry until he was given to his parents - until he was in Jane's arms.

Benedict and David were the day and the night, the light and the darkness - opposites. Benedict started crawling, walking and speaking before David. His first word was 'Daddy' and David's first word was 'Mummy'. Benedict was two when he said 'fuck' and David was two when he said 'not good'. Benedict was three when he messed up with Sherlock's experiments and David was three when he tried to help Jane cooking Christmas dinner. Benedict said he wanted to a detective like Daddy while David said he wanted to be a doctor like Mummy. Benedict liked to play football and video games but David liked to solve jigsaw puzzles.

Benedict always had a special connection to his father while David had a special connection to his mother. Both twins loved their parents, but each had a favourite. But one night when David was three and after a nightmare he asked his Daddy Sherlock to read him a story, Sherlock realised how different both twins were and how much their differences made him love them. Benedict would usually say, after one page read, that the story was 'so boring' and 'predictable', but David would always wait till the end and then thank him for reading the story.

After a homework was graded, and if it had mistakes, David would sit down one afternoon and try to see, by himself, what he had done wrong and try to fix his mistakes. After a homework was graded, and if it had mistakes, Benedict would think of a new mischief. And the following day he would steal the teacher's pen because he didn't like the way his homework had been graded.

And one day Jane and Sherlock were called because apparently Benedict not only stole his teacher's pens but also put some chewing gum on his seat and finally called the teacher 'brainless' and 'stupid twat'. They were also told Benedict was given a thirty minutes detention every day until he wrote down 'I shall be a good student and not insult my teacher' at least one thousand times. Sherlock said it was a very pointless punishment. Jane said it was fair and that they should have given him twice a worst detention scheme. Sherlock said Benedict was right. And Jane said this time Benedict had gone too far.

Both parents decided to wait until after dinner to speak to the boy. They were grounding him for as long as the detention at school lasted and they knew they needed to have a serious talk with that boy. But Benedict had another plans that day and somehow the boy managed to piss every one off that day, since he got home back from school till dinner.

Benedict was a very special child. He was known by everyone in the family as 'The King of Mischief'. Benedict liked to ruin his Grandma Lizzie's flowers every now and then, mess with his Grandpa Richard pipes collection, ruin his Uncle Mycroft's umbrellas, mess with Sherlock's experiments, ruin his own clothes to Jane's dismay, break or ruin one of Hamish or Lock's video games, pull at Sophie's hair and finally make his twin brother David cry. Jane and Sherlock had been advised to look for psychological help. In nursery and in first year of school things had been the same and every now and then Jane or Sherlock would be called by the headmaster because apparently Benedict managed, somehow, to sneak into the teacher's office and once steal his pens because he didn't like the way he had graded his homework.

Both Jane and Sherlock thought Benedict just wanted attention.

But things got worse.

Seven-year-old Benedict stepped on Hamish and Lock's video games console, broke Sophie's favourite mug (present from Sherlock on her latest birthday) and put laxatives on David's food - all in the curse of a few hours between lunch time and dinner.

They were at the dinner table.

All silent.

"You're grounded. No park, no video games, no movies, no cake and no telly for two weeks."

"It's not fair!"

"Fair?" Jane asked. "You upset all your brothers and now David's ill because of you!"

Benedict shrugged, carelessly. "They had it coming."

What the -?

"What?" Sherlock asked, surprised of what his son had just said.

"Hamish and Lock never let me play with them," Benedict said angrily. "They were mean!"

Hamish and Lock were angry. They had wanted that console for months and were very good boys until their mother got them one for Christmas. What hurt them the most was not only seeing Benedict stepping on the console on purpose, smiling while doing so, but also knowing they were this close to finally complete the game they had been playing together for months now.

"We didn't let you play because it was a strategy game!" Lock said angrily. "It's not for babies like you!"

Jane pinched the bridge of her nose. "Lock -"

"It's not fair, Mum!" Hamish said. "We've been playing that game for months now!"

"And he also broke my mug!" Sophie said with tears in her eyes, angry. "It was my favourite mug and you knew it," she said to Benedict. "Daddy gave it to me!"

Sherlock, who was sitting next to Sophie rubbed her back softly. "We can find another one."

"No we can't," Sophie cried. "It had printed a picture of my favourite actor! It was unique!"

"Sophie pulled at my hair this morning!" Benedict said, folding his arms.

"No I didn't!" Sophie jumped. "Mum, Dad, he's lying!"

"Enough!" Sherlock said tiredly. "And David?" the detective asked. "What did he do to you to put laxatives on his food?"

Benedict examined his nails, ignoring everyone's eyes on him. "Nothing."

David, who was sitting between his parents remained silent. His blue eyes were on the floor. His tummy was hurting him and every time he went to the loo he cried. He had stained his pants and his trousers and he just had an accident in front of the whole family. His Mummy Jane had to help him to clean himself and then she had to wash his clothes. David felt upset and embarrassed. And he asked himself what he had done to his brother.

"You should have told us," Jane said. "if your brothers don't share, if your sister pulled at your hair -"

"I didn't do it, Mummy!"

"Let me finish," Jane said to her daughter and then turned to Benedict. "You do not take revenge. If anyone here does something to upset you you have to tell me or your father."

Sherlock nodded. "And there's no justification for what you did to any of your siblings. That console thing and the mug can be replaced, but what you did to David was dangerous and reckless, a very stupid thing to do -"

"IT'S NOT FAIR!" Benedict shouted. "THEY ARE ALL MEAN TO ME AND YOU NEVER SAY ANYTHING!"

"Shut up!" Sophie shouted angrily. "You're always doing naughty things and just being rude to everyone!"

Benedict stood on his chair. "Shut up, you adopted!" the boy shouted. "Your parents didn't love you, that's the only reason why you're here!"

"Stupid brat, don't talk to her like that!" Lock said angrily. "She's our sister!"

Jane held her hands on the air. "Boys, stop it!"

"You're a moron! You can't even play the violin like Daddy!" Benedict shouted.

Hamish got to his feet. "You're a stupid baby who wants to get people's attention -"

Sherlock sighed. "Sop it right now!"

"You're a deaf and a retarded!" Benedict screamed at the top of his lungs, cutting his father off. "You're not even Dad's son! You're a bastard!"

It took Jane less than a second to stand up and slap Benedict hard across the face.

The very first and the only time Jane ever laid a finger on any of her children, it was the very same day Benedict managed to piss everyone off and the very same day Hamish was told he was not Sherlock's biological son.

Sherlock's eyes widened. "Jane..."

Jane grabbed the boy by his wrist and pulled him down his chair. "Go to your room."

"But..." Benedict mumbled with tears in his eyes and pressing a hand to his cheek. "Mum -"

"I don't care if you're hungry," Jane gasped. "Go to your room and have a think."

"I hate you!" Benedict shouted.

Jane looked into his son's blue eyes and felt as if she could die any moment soon. "What?"

"I HATE YOU BECAUSE YOU'RE A BAD MUM AND I DON'T WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN!" Benedict shouted. "I DON'T LOVE YOU ANY MORE!"

A single tear rolled down Jane's face. She wiped the tear off her face and pressed a hand to her chest.

Sherlock looked at his children. David curled his little fingers on his shirt, Sophie was about to cry, Lock was staring at the scene before him with open eyes and Hamish was looking down at the floor. The detective left the table and placed a warm hand on the small of Jane's back. "Jane -"

"Benedict," she breathed, and wiped the tears rolling down her face. "Stay in your room and have a think."

The boy slammed the door shut.

Both Jane and Sherlock returned to the table. Both watched the tears rolling down Sophie's face - she already knew she was adopted. They had told her about it when she was little and she was fine with it. But she didn't need to be remembered her biological parents had left her.

Lock said nothing. He stared at his dinner in silence, but David was silently crying.

"I'm not hungry," Sophia said, standing up and gesturing little David to go with her. "Can we go upstairs, please?"

Sherlock shook his head. "You said you were hungry. Eat."

"Please, Daddy. I don't want to stay here." She said with tears in her eyes.

It broke both Jane and Sherlock's heart.

But Sherlock was truly hurt because Sophie was his little Princess.

"Can I go with Sophie?" David asked.

"Of course."

Lock twisted his lips. "This is shit."

"Language!"

"This is utter shit!" Lock said angrily. "He fucked our game, made every one cry and he just gets a 'go to your room and have a think'?"

Sherlock looked at his twelve-year-old son. Preadolescence behaviour.

Jane buried her face in her hands.

The detective rubbed her back softly. "Pick up your plate and go upstairs with your siblings."

"I don't want to fucking eat."

"You're not speaking to me like that! I'm your father!"

Lock rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I want a new console for tomorrow. Tom and Phil are coming to play and I'm not calling it off because of that stupid brat -"

"Go to your room right now!" Jane bellowed, with tears in her eyes. "If I hear one more thing about that stupid console you'll be grounded!"

Lock was angry. Bot Jane and Sherlock could see that. But the boy swallowed his own words and ran to his room upstairs.

Once they were alone, Hamish broke in tears.

"Hamish -"

"Why you never told me?" Hamish asked between sobs. "Why you never told me I'm not your son?"

He knew it.

God.

He knew it.

"I'm your father -"

"No, you're not!" Hamish shouted. "I'm not your son! I don't look like you or like any of them!" the sixteen year old boy buried his face in his hands. "You're not even my mother, are you?"

Jane had tears in her eyes when she walked to her sixteen-year-old son and tried to touch him, but Hamish got to his feet and rejected her touch. "Leave me alone!"

"Hamish -"

The teenager picked up his jacket and ran downstairs to the streets. Both Jane and Sherlock heard the door being slammed shut. Jane buried her face in Sherlock chest and cried. She cried in Sherlock's arms just like the night she told Sherlock she might be pregnant and that she didn't know what to do because Sam Sawyer had ran away, leaving her alone.

Some time later, and still holding Jane in his arms, Sherlock knew where Hamish was. He didn't even need to ask Mycroft for any CCTV footage. He knew where his son was. He was his father after all, so Sherlock knew where Hamish was.

"I'm going with you."

"No," Sherlock whispered. "I have to talk to him."

"I have to talk to him too," Jane said softly. "I've got things to explain..."

It was dark, slightly cold, but it took both parents nothing to find the teenager sitting on the park bench, alone, with his hands supporting his face, crying.

Jane sat next to him on his left side and Sherlock on his right side.

"Leave me alone."

She ignored it and placed a hand on his back. "Hamish -"

"I told you to leave me alone!"

"Don't talk to her like that," Sherlock said firmly. "She's your mother."

Hamish turned to him. "You don't talk to me like that. You're not my father."

It felt like a knife stabbing his chest.

Sherlock had never wished this day to come.

Never.

"Hamish, please -"

"Are you my mother?" Hamish asked, with tears in his eyes. "Please tell me the truth. Don't lie to me any more."

Jane held her son's hand softly. "I'm your mother."

Hamish blinked and tears rolled down his face. "Who's my father?"

"Sherlock's your father -"

"Tell me the truth!" Hamish cried. "Please!"

Jane bit her lip and closed her eyes. And in that moment thousand and thousand of memories came to her mind. Jane remembered everything - everything. Since the very first moment she thought she might be pregnant when she missed her period and to the moment Benedict deduced and told everyone Hamish was not Sherlock's biological son.

"Sherlock is not your biological father."

Hamish remained silent.

"I was seventeen when I was pregnant of my first boyfriend," Jane mumbled between tears. "When I told him he left."

"What's his name?"

Jane hesitated.

"Sam Sawyer," Sherlock said. "His name is Sam Sawyer."

"You married him and then he adopted me?"

Jane nodded. "I asked Sherlock to help me because... if my mother knew about Sam and that he had left she would have made me give you up for adoption. Or have an abortion," Jane explained. "Sherlock told everyone you were his so I could keep you."

"What?"

"We were seventeen," Sherlock said. "You already know that."

"But... you said Grandmother was a religious woman..."

Jane gasped. "She cared for appearances. I guess that's why she let me marry Sherlock."

"So what?" Hamish turned to Sherlock. "You married her and then hurt her?"

Sherlock already knew Hamish was talking about the night he was so high in cocaine that hit Jane and pushed her down the stairs. Hamish knew about that episode.

It hurt.

"I loved your mother," Sherlock breathed. "Even before our first marriage. I offered my help so she would marry me -"

"But not because you wanted to help. You didn't want me."

"Don't twist my words. I offered my help to marry her because I loved her and because I wanted to be your father." Sherlock explained.

Hamish laughed sarcastically. "Please."

"Love, your father's not lying -"

"He's not my father!"

"I always loved you!" Sherlock said. "Always. I'm your father!"

Hamish shook his head and more tears rolled down his face. "You can't love me! You're not my father! I'm the product of a mistake my mother did with... with someone who's not you!" The teenager busted into tears. "You can't love me!"

Sherlock embraced his eldest son. Because Hamish was his son.

"I never cared..." Sherlock gasped, tears rolling down his face. "I don't care if you don't have my blood. I'm your father and you're my son. I love you Hamish."

"You're not the product of a mistake," Jane whispered. "We always wanted you, Hamish."

That night, when they returned home, Jane was in Sherlock arms, both were in their bed, she cried again. Sherlock promised everything was going to be OK.

Hamish asked them if his biological father ever wanted him... if he ever asked for him. And Jane had to tell him the truth, because they were not lying to him any more. Jane and Sherlock told him about that day in which he got lost in the park and he ran into his own father - into Sam Sawyer. Both parents told Hamish about Sam refusing to ever meet him.

Jane told her son she loved him.

Sherlock told his son he loved him.

Hamish told their parents he loved them.