"Good night Father," Hamish hugged Sherlock and he kissed Hamish's head.

"Good night Hamish."

"Good night Daddy," He hugged me and I also kissed his head.

"Good night Hamish."

Hamish has been here a little under a month so now everyone has the flow of everything. Sherlock and I still share his bed, but we're kind of together now.

I'd say ,"Thanks to Hamish," but thanks to Hamish the farthest Sherlock and I have ever gotten was second base, if that even counts when you're both males. As soon as we got near third Hamish would come in.

It's not that I don't love him, I truly do, but Hamish is the biggest cock block I've ever met.

Hamish laid down in his bed as Sherlock and I headed to our room, closing the door behind us.

He's really soften up since Hamish arrived. He kind of understands how human emotions work now.

"Where ever we ordered dinner from tonight, let's not ever eat there again." Sherlock said as he took off his robe. He was wearing four nicotine patches. Sherlock has been really stressed over Hamish. "It was horrid."

"Sherlock," I said as he looked at me. "I cooked."

"Oh, well then don't cook that ever again."

Yeah, forget what I just said about him being softer now. He's still an ass.

He laid in bed and I followed. The bed was in the middle of the room now, where it belongs. I couldn't stand having it in the corner anymore. Sherlock doesn't complain about it, he just cuddles with me. Well he cuddles when he wants to, when he sleeps. "You really didn't like my cooking?" I asked him as I looked him in the eyes a little hurt.

Sherlock placed his hand on my cheek and strokes it with his thumb. "People have strong points in life, John."

I couldn't help but smile at this perfect being in front of me.

"Yours just isn't cooking."

Smile? Gone.

"Well fine!" I angrily turned to my side so we weren't facing each other.

"John," He tried.

"No, I'm mad at you now!" I pouted.

"I don't believe you're mad at me," Sherlock said as he kissed down my neck.

I couldn't help but fall in love with the feeling of his lips on my skin. Slowly I laid on my back and he strataled me.

He kissed my collar bone and trailed to my wound on my shoulder. His finger brushed over it as he looked at it.

I ran my fingers threw his hair and looked at him. "It doesn't hurt anymore," I reassured him.

Sherlock fingered my dog tags. He traced a trail from the tags to my neck. Slowly, he took them off of me and put them on himself. He looked at me, eyes asking if it was okay. I kissed him saying he could have them.

Sherlock smiled and continued down to my nipple. He took it in his mouth and I couldn't help but moan a little.

Just him touching me drove me crazy but this is something words can't explain.

I closed my eyes and bit my lip as I ran my fingers threw my hair.

He fingered my pants and slowly began to pull them down.

"Aaahhh!" There was a scream from up stairs. Sherlock grabbed something laying on the side table and began to run up stairs.

Quickly, I pulled myself together and followed. Once upstairs Sherlock kicked open Hamish's door and we ran inside.

"Stay right there!" Sherlock demanded as he pointed his gun.

But there wasn't anyone in there but our son. Hamish was sitting up on his bed scared with tears running down his face.

I ran to his side and Sherlock put the gun down. "What's wrong? No one's in here."

Hamish's breath was unsteady as he breathed, "It was about Mum." He cried into my chest as I hugged him.

"Shhh it's okay," I rubbed his back. "Daddy's got you and Father's here too." I looked at Sherlock nodding at him to sit with us.

Sherlock placed his gun on the table and sat with us. He wasn't sure what to do plus he was still uncomfortable with this whole, "Loving your son," deal.

So I reached my arm around him and pulled him into the hug.

"I'm here," Sherlock said as he grabbed Hamish's hand.

"It was only a dream," I reassured him.

"N-no it wasn't. It r-really happened!" he started to cry all over again. Hamish rubbed his tears away with his fists. He was shaking and coughing, trying to catch his breath.

I know this feeling. This is how I felt when I first started to have nightmares about Afghanistan. It was only a dream, but it really happened.

All I could do was just hold him close and hope everything will be okay.

After a while Hamish calmed down a little and looked at Sherlock, "Why did you bring a gun?" He wiped his eyes innocently.

"I thought you were in real danger."

"Sherlock." I barked wanting to hit him for being rude.

"I thought someone was trying to hurt you," he restated.

I wiped away the rest of his tears and fixed his hair. "Do you think you can go back to sleep now?"

He shook his head and hugged Sherlock. "Can I sleep with you two tonight, Father?"

"You should sleep in your own bed," he started.

"But only because you had a nightmare, you can sleep with us tonight," I finished for him, knowing that's not what he was going to say.

I picked him up and carried him down to our room.

When we arrived in our room Sherlock placed the gun back in the night stand. "Has that always been there?"

"Of course it has," Sherlock stated, "Where else am I supposed to put it?"

"I don't know somewhere that isn't five inches away from my head," I said.

Hamish giggled at our fight from on the bed. "Daddy, can you get me the jam before I go to bed?" He asked, "Mum used to feed me jam after I had a nightmare."

"Sure," I went to the kitchen and got the raspberry jam and a spoon. I came back and sat on the bed.

"Thank you," he opened the jar and took two spoonfuls then laid down.

When we all laid down he laid right in the middle of Sherlock and I and faced him.

It only took him five minutes to fall asleep. But like his father he rolls and kicks.

It was quite fun to watch. They both seemed to twist and turn at the same time.

For about two hours I just watched them. I couldn't help to just watch the beautiful beings in front of me.

"I can't do this," Sherlock said as he stood up and began to walk around the bed.

"Where are you going?" I sat up and asked him. I could have sworn he was dead asleep three seconds ago.

He came up to my side of the bed, "Move over a bit," he demanded.

"What, why?" I asked confused as Hamish rolled over to the other side of the bed.

Sherlock laid next to me, "That pillow is uncomfortable."

I blushed a bit because I was a little flattered. "Oh okay."

I laid back down and Sherlock placed his head in the crook of my neck. He held me close and put his top leg in between mine.

"You usually don't do this until you pretend to be asleep," I joked.

"Hush John," Sherlock barked, "I had a long day and I'm very tired."

Rubbing my fingers on his nicotine patches, I looked at Hamish.

"I'm proud that you've been doing so well." I kissed his head and smiled.

"Good night John," Sherlock insisted.

"Good night Sherlock." I rested my head on top of his.

He laid still and I wondered if he actually went to sleep when finally I did.