A Worried Mind (Chapter 8)

Just as they had promised, Sherlock and John were up early the next morning to visit Hamish. They enjoyed their cups of tea and coffee, and prepared a tasty treat to bring to their son for later. Before they exited out the door, Sherlock stopped John and went to look for something.

He went down the hall and to his surprise, didn't stop at his and John's bedroom door. He was going to grab his watch from his bedside table, but the urge to continue down the hall took over his body. He slowly proceeded towards the closed bedroom door that had been unoccupied for nearly 24 hours.

Sherlock's long, skinny fingers twisted the door handle to his son's room. When the door creaked open, his eyes noticed a scene that he'd completely ignored the night Hamish had his nightmare. There were several photo albums lying in a stack near the opposite wall, and a few select photos had been removed from under the plastic binding. His school bag was in a heap near one of the bed posts, pencils and notebooks spilling out of it.

Sherlock went directly over to Hamish's twin bed after observing his son's room. Hamish was indeed the cleanest and tidiest person in the house. Because he had Sherlock's brilliant mind but John's loyalty in him, Hamish controlled himself a lot easier than either of his dads.

The covers on his son's bed were still thrown about everywhere and there was still a slight dent in the pillow where Hamish's head shook about. On the bedside table, was Hamish's favorite novel. Sherlock and John had read Hamish this story first when he was only six years old. Hamish had insisted they read it to him, and he re-read the words on the pages at least twice a year from then on.

The Hobbit, by J.R.R. Tolkien, was lying pages open in the spot Hamish had stopped the night of his nightmare. The bookmark was a random little sketch Hamish had done of his parents when he was five years old. Hamish had taken special care of that book, especially after he accidently dropped it on the floor and the binding slightly ripped.

Sherlock closed the book and ran his hand over the front cover, examining the swirl of colors. All the blues, greens, blacks, and whites seemed to blend together very nicely. He turned his attention back to the little bed and went searching for what he was trying to find. He lifted up the covers and searched in between sheets, but he still couldn't find what he was looking for.

"Sherlock?" There was a knock on the door and John entered the room. Sherlock whipped around to stare at his husband. "What are you looking for?" Sherlock didn't reply but started to look for the object again. A thought suddenly crossed his mind and Sherlock looked into his son's closet. He looked up on the top shelf and finally found what he'd been looking for during the past five minutes.

Sherlock scooped up Hamish's baby blanket into his arms and felt the soft fabric on his hands. John raised his eyebrows at the sight of Sherlock holding the blanket. "It gives him comfort," Sherlock stated. "I know he doesn't sleep with it, but he likes it in the same room." John nodded and motioned for his husband to follow him. Usually it was the other way around.

Sherlock halted in the doorway and John turned back around. Sherlock raised his pointer finger to tell John he needed another moment. Spinning on his heel, he went back into the Hamish's room and snatched up his son's favorite book. Hamish would need some entertainment for his crazy brain so he wouldn't be bored in the hospital.

Satisfied, Sherlock and John headed back down the hall. They stopped at the top of the stairs to put their coats on. Sherlock flung his scarf around his neck and picked up Hamish's things from the coffee table.

They were walking through the front doors of the hospital within twenty minutes. The lady from the previous day was not at the check in desk, and Sherlock was quite relieved by it. He didn't fancy meeting someone in a bad mood this early in the morning. John crinkled the bag with Hamish's snack in it and tried to close the gap tightly so it would stay fresh.

A few people were passing by on the second floor as Sherlock and John practically skipped towards room 207. The silver numbers on the front of the door gleamed in Sherlock's eyes. He knocked three times, making sure it wasn't four because of a reason from his favorite television show, Doctor Who. There was a joyful, "Come in!" from inside, and Sherlock pushed the door inwards.

"Hamish!" Sherlock exclaimed happily, seeing his son sitting up and well rested in bed. The shades on the window had been pulled aside so the sunshine leaked in, filling the entire room. "How's my boy today?" Sherlock flopped onto Hamish's bed, planting a kiss on his son's nose.

Hamish giggled as John took the chair next to the bed, grabbing his son's hand. "We brought you some things you may like…" John revealed the snack bag from behind his back and placed it in his lap.

"Ooooh!" Hamish said, his eyes growing wide with excitement, "What is it?"

"Haha, why don't you look silly?" Hamish had no objections and dug into the bag.

"Careful!" John exclaimed, "It will be a thousand crumbs by the time you take it out of the bag!" John chuckled.

"Some left over homemade chocolate chip cookies!" Hamish's eyes lit up and he reached over the edge of the bed to give his dad a hug. John laughed and smiled, finding Sherlock's eyes behind Hamish's back.

Sherlock laughed too, and he leaned over to pat Hamish's on his other shoulder. Hamish let go of his dad and spun around to face his father. "We brought you these too," Sherlock said, uncovering Hamish's baby blanket and The Hobbit. Hamish took the blanket from his father and rubbed the soft fabric over his face, feeling the wonderful fuzziness of it and smiling up at his father.

When Hamish saw the book, he immediately asked, "Did you lose my place? Because I was at a good part…"

Sherlock laughed again and shook his head. "No, you're adorable bookmark is still in its' proper spot. And what are you talking about? The whole book is amazing!"

A thought crossed Hamish's mind. "Will you read it to me?" he asked. "Like you used to a couple years ago? You both do the voices so well! Dad's really good at being Bilbo, and I'm at the part where he meets Smaug, and you're always the best at Smaug father!" Sherlock couldn't resist Hamish's begging voice and tilted his head at John, waiting for an answer.

"Oh, alright," John gave in from the look on his husband's face. Hamish jumped up and down in his bed and passed the book over to his dad. Sherlock tried to get him to calm down. Before John began reading, Sherlock heard a ding from his coat pocket and pulled out his phone. He received a text from Lestrade.

How's Hamish? I'm afraid the case will have to wait for a few more weeks. Molly's due any day now and I need to spend time with her. –Lestrade

Sherlock smiled and felt happy for Lestrade and Molly. Their seven year old daughter, Isabella, would soon have a baby sister. "Who's that?" John asked curiously.

"Lestrade," he told his family. "Says Molly will have her baby any day now. The case will have to wait a few more weeks John." He hit reply and sent back a text to Lestrade.

Hamish is fine. We plan on visiting him every day from now on. He'll only need to be in the hospital for about a week and a half. If you need any help with the baby, John and I don't mind. Especially me. Tell Molly I told her good luck. –SH

"Aw, that's great!" Hamish said as Sherlock typed his reply. "I'll get to have another friend soon! And maybe I'll be able to hold her! Tell Isabella I said hi!" he added towards his father.

"They come up with a name yet?" John asked, holding the book open in front of him.

"I think Lestrade told me the other day that they were deciding between Eleanor, Lila, and Marietta." He unlocked his phone and sent another text to Lestrade.

Hamish says hi to Isabella. Maybe she should come see him later this week; he'd like that. We're all happy for you! –SH

"Right John, take it away!" he said, putting his phone back into his coat pocket.

They spent most of the rest of the morning passing the book back and forth reading to Hamish. Sherlock and John sat next to each other in the chairs by the window, and Hamish munched happily on his chocolate chip cookies. The doctor came in late in the afternoon while they took a break from reading and checked to see if Hamish was okay.

Sherlock and John said goodbye to their son around dinner time so they could return to 221B and spend some time together. Again, they promised Hamish they would be back the next morning, a little later however because they had to take care of some bills.

Sherlock and John spent the next couple days getting up in the morning and getting dressed quickly so they could visit Hamish. They'd spend time together reading The Hobbit and discussing previous cases Sherlock and John had done together.

On the morning of Hamish's surgery, Sherlock and John sat down together at breakfast and discussed the situation.

"Shouldn't at least one of us go? We don't have to be in the room, but at least he'll know we'll be outside the door…" Sherlock pleaded.

"That's weird. The other day you were saying that Hamish could deal with it himself," John reminded his husband.

"Well, you know how my mind is. My mind changes frequently. Please can we go?"

John gave in. "Alright. When is this supposed to happen?"

"Around three in the afternoon."

"How do you know that?"

"I spoke to the doctor yesterday John. Of course I know." Sherlock took a sip of coffee from his mug. He didn't touch the pancakes on his plate in front of him though. All morning, he'd been thinking about Hamish and how he'd react to the surgery. John secretly had a worried feeling that Hamish might not do too well in the surgery either.

They spent the rest of the morning and part of the afternoon trying to clean up the living room. John shrieked when it was 2:30 P.M. and told Sherlock they had to hurry or they'd be late. They dashed out the door without another further hesitation.

The doctors prevented them from going in when they reached room 207. John made sure a message was passed on to Hamish that they would be waiting outside the door till the surgery was over. The doctors had to force Sherlock out of the room as he tried to push them aside and get to reach Hamish.

John even tried to pull him back. John pulled him around his chest and forced him back onto the bench to sit with him. The doctors closed the door behind them and Sherlock went into a state of misery. His body sank on the bench and John put his arm around Sherlock's shoulder.

"It's going to be okay…Hamish will do great, I promise," John assured his husband, rocking back and forth in his seat. "He's brave. And come on, we all know where his brave trait came from…" Sherlock looked up and had to smile at John quoting him.

All they heard from behind the door were a few muffled voices. There was an occasional clink of an object or tool from inside, but nothing else.

A few minutes later however, the two husbands heard a young boy let out a scream from behind the door of room 207. Sherlock jumped up from his seat out of John's grip and started pounding on the door, yelling, "Let us in! Please let us in!"

Someone inside the door was trying to make Hamish fall asleep so the operation could go by faster. For a brief moment, Sherlock heard his son crying from the far left corner, and then there was silence. Sherlock tried pounding again on the door but no one would let him in. It was sealed and bolted shut, and he yet again found himself being pulled backwards by his husband.

He fell back once more onto the bench, tears starting to stream from his eyes. John tried to look him in the face and get him to calm down. They sat together for a long time, hearing nothing but silence coming from behind the door.

Ten minutes passed, then twenty. John began to wonder how long this was supposed to take. His thinking was interrupted by a ding from Sherlock's phone. Sherlock raised his head, slightly bewildered, and reached into his coat pocket to retrieve it. He read the luminous words on the screen to John.

It's time. We're coming into the hospital just now. Molly's about to deliver our new baby. Can one of you come and keep Isabella company? We don't want her to be in the room at the time. Room 437 on the fourth floor. I'll be inside with Molly. You can come in when it's over. Thanks. –Lestrade

"But…Hamish?" John said, looking at Sherlock and into his bright eyes.

"You stay here with Hamish. I told you, he loves you more. I'll go. Someone needs to keep Isabella company. I promise I'll be back soon…" he added, seeing the worried look on his husband's face. He reached in and gave John a kiss on the lips. "I promise…"

Without another word, Sherlock turned and headed towards the staircase not far from Hamish's room. He really couldn't believe he was going upstairs. But then again, Isabella needed someone to watch over her. The door behind him practically slammed shut and sent a booming echo up the winding stairs.

Sherlock headed up towards the fourth floor, his mind racing at all the events occurring on the same day, and his footsteps thundering loudly as he went.