I am so, so sorry guys! I'm in the process of trying to pack up my apartment, so that's been taking up a large portion of my time. That, and I think Benedict and the plot monkeys decided to stay on the beach and play in the sand that day I went down to the shore with Captain Evil...but rest assured-we found them!
Don't worry, the next chapter is done and just needs to be reviewed so you won't have to wait as long for the next one! So without further adieu-here's the next chapter!
It had been several weeks since that heart rendering conversation had taken place. Sherlock seemed much more at peace with the world than John had ever seen him. And it had seemed that the Holmes brothers were trying to patch up their shredded relationship, however slow of a progression it was turning out to be. There had been some weird underlying tension between them lately that was different from their normal level, but the doctor supposed that you couldn't just undue nearly ten years of damage over night.
Besides that, John was bloody exhausted. Dr. Carls' condition from the car accident had turned out to be much worse than they had all anticipated so John had taken over his shifts at the clinic officially. And when he wasn't there, he was home while Sherlock continued to take on cases. It was their bad misfortune that Mrs. Hudson had decided a couple months back to plan several holidays within this short period. Of course, Benedict wasn't in their lives at the time and the boys wouldn't begrudge their beloved landlady her much needed rest. She did offer to cancel these last few trips, but John had insisted she go, knowing that they would manage somehow.
The downside was that John rarely was able to assist his partner on cases as of late. He missed the adventure and excitement—the thrill of the chase. The doctor missed spending time with Lestrade too. They hadn't had a night out at the pub in ages.
So this was the state of things when Greg called Sherlock's mobile early one evening. The consulting detective happened to be in the shower, so John answered the call.
"Hello, Greg!"
"John! Where have you been, mate?! Haven't seen you in ages!"
"I know. Life has been a little crazy lately," the doctor told him.
"So Sherlock said—but that doesn't explain why you've been hiding away," Lestrade accused. "You've been around before while working at the clinic at the same time."
"Has he not told you?!"
"Told me what? He said you two had been busy at home, I just assumed he meant something else…"
"Ah, well…what's been keeping me busy is a three-and-a-half year old little boy," John responded.
"You guys adopt?! Kind of soon into your relationship, isn't it? Not that I'm judging."
The doctor laughed at that in spite of himself. "No, not exactly. Umm…turns out that I have a son."
"Seriously?! Since when? With whom?!"
"Yes—seriously. As to when, I found out a little over a month and a half ago. And with whom, an old friend from uni I met up with while I was on leave before my last deployment," John answered.
"Well, how 'bout that? Congrats, mate. Your little one have a name?"
"Benedict. You should stop by and meet him," suggested the doctor. He silently padded down the hall to glance into the sitting room to assure himself that the child in question was still sitting at the coffee table coloring.
"Are you going to be there if I come by tonight? I actually need Sherlock to look at some evidence for me," Greg asked.
"Yeah—we're here, so feel free to stop by," John advised.
He could hear then smile in the DI's voice as he replied, "Alright then. I'll be by in twenty."
"Kay. See you soon," the doctor said and hung up the phone.
Sherlock came out of the bathroom wrapped in his blue dressing gown, toweling off his hair. "Who was that?" he asked.
"Hmm? Oh—Greg," John answered. "He's dropping by to go over some evidence on that case you're working."
"Excellent! That will save me the trip," the genius declared.
"I thought you loved going down to the Yard," the older man asked, confused.
"I do," Sherlock stated as he stepped into John's personal space and wrapped his arms around his blogger, "but not when I could be spending that time with you."
The doctor gazed up at his partner with unveiled affection. "Are you the same man I moved in with nearly four years ago? Because I'm pretty sure he would have not just said that, The Work being all important, as it were…"
With an elegant shrug of his shoulders, the consulting detective replied, "My priorities have changed slightly."
A burst of happiness shot through his chest at that simple utterance. John glanced back at Benedict one more time before he pulled his lover into their bedroom and quietly shut the door behind them. Not having much time before the DI arrived, they were limited in their options.
"John, what are you doing?" Sherlock questioned as his blogger pushed him to sit down on the bed.
The doctor untied the belt of the genius' dressing gown and pushed the fabric aside to reveal the smooth, porcelain skin beneath. He parted Sherlock's knees and slid to the floor between them before leaning forward and swallowing the detective down in one swift move.
Sherlock threw his head back and gasped in surprise as he wound his long fingers into John's short blond hair. "Oh, God! JustlikethatJohn!" he moaned. "Not—not complaining, but what's this for?"
John didn't answer. He kept at his task licking and sucking until he could feel the genius' thighs quiver and that sharp intake of breath that warned him Sherlock was close.
The consulting detective came with his partner's name on his lips. He felt boneless and tired as he detangled his hands from John's head. His blogger had a smug grin on his face as he rose up slightly to offer Sherlock a kiss.
"That," John stated, "was for saying just the right thing."
Sherlock smiled back at him and ran his thumb over the doctor's swollen lips. "I see. So sentiment pays off, does it? I will remember that—especially if it gets me a spectacular blow job."
John was about to reply when they heard Ben hollering from the other room. "Door! Someone's hewe!"
They both looked at each other and laughed as the older man pushed himself up to standing position. He smoothed his hair down as best he could before stepping back out into the sitting room. Greg glanced at him as he cautiously poked his head around the doorway.
"Mrs. Hudson let me up," Lestrade explained. "I didn't want to just barge in."
"No worries," John assured him and waved the DI in. "You know you're always welcome here—barring if the door is locked, mind you."
"That's precisely why I was hesitant! Didn't want to catch the two of you sha—um, together…in an awkward situation," Greg caught himself just in time, remembering that there was a toddler in the flat.
John motioned for his friend to sit in the leather chair as he took his wingback seat opposite. As Lestrade sat down, the doctor waved for his son to come over. The little boy sprang up from his new task and darted to John's side, wrapping his arms around his father's leg and rested his head on John's knee. He smiled affectionately down at the toddler and ran his fingers through the boy's baby fine curls.
"Ben, Sweetheart, this is a good friend of Daddy and Sherlock's," the doctor explained. "This is Detective Inspector Lestrade."
The DI leaned forward and held out his hand to the toddler. "Ben, is it? It's a pleasure to meet you!"
Sensing that he could trust this man without reservation, Benedict relinquished his hold on his father and slid his tiny hand into Lestrade's. "Nice to meet you, Detective Inspector."
Lestrade laughed as he curled his fingers around the boy's. "Aw, come now! Your dad and I have been mates for some time—no need to be so formal, lad. You can call me 'Uncle Greg' if you like."
Ben glanced back at his father to make sure this was acceptable. John nodded encouragingly at his son who turned back to the DI and said, "Okay. Hi Uncwe Gweg. Daddy, can I go pway with my bwocks?"
John nodded and answered, "Of course, love." Both men sat quietly as they watched the boy bounce away and plop down in the middle of the floor to attend to his brightly colored building blocks.
"Blimey…" Greg said after a moment. "I can see you in him—but are you sure that he's not somehow genetically Sherlock's as well? He didn't manage to clone himself for real this time…right?"
He couldn't help it; the doctor had to laugh at the query. "No, I'm sure that Ben is not genetically linked to Sherlock in any way—believe me."
"But that doesn't mean I can't teach him a thing or two," the man in question stated as he came into the sitting room buttoning his cuffs.
Greg looked up at the genius and grinned knowingly. "Of that I have no doubt. We're all going to be in trouble if he picks up any of your habits!"
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Sherlock sniffed and perched on the arm of John's chair. "It's quite obvious even at this early age that Benedict has a brilliant mind that I will ensure is cultivated properly. As far as him picking up some of my less endearing traits, you have no need to worry, Detective Inspector. He is very much John's son—and that alone will go a long way towards balancing out any…undesirable…effects I have on his young mind."
The DI stared dumbfounded at his consulting friend. The thought of the lanky genius being so at ease with such a young child was startling. He guiltily admitted that he had never thought that Sherlock would be the parenting type, but the way he looked at the little boy was identical to John's—a devoted, loving father. Something he had said to the doctor years ago echoed back to him now in light of observing this new side of Sherlock: he's a great man and some day—if we're very, very lucky—he might even be a good one… It looked like the doctor and his son were well on their way to making that happen.
His contemplation was cut short, however, when that intensive gaze swiveled back to zero in on him. "John said you wanted me to have another look at some of the evidence on this on-going case?" the consulting detective inquired.
"Oh…right…" Greg replied, suddenly remembering what had brought him by Baker Street in the first place. He turned to reach for the folder he had set down on the end table next to his chair. The edge of the file grazed his finger just the right way, giving him a deep paper cut. "Fu—ah fudge!" he caught himself just in time to prevent unleashing that rather heavy curse in the presence of a child. Unfortunately, the folder slipped to the floor and several of the crime scene photos fluttered around the sitting room carpet.
Being the curious little boy that he was, Benedict crawled closer to the nearest one and gazed at it with unveiled interest. Sherlock heard the low groan from his partner and immediately jumped up to rectify the situation. Seeing as how they had already discussed things that were inappropriate for the toddler—and crime scenes were one of those things—the detective wanted to keep his lover happy. A happy John meant a happy (and carnally satisfied) Sherlock.
"That wooks impowtant!" Ben exclaimed and pointed to something in the photograph.
The genius bent over to examine what the toddler had discovered. His eyes widened in shocked surprise and he glanced at the boy. "Good work, Benedict! You clever, clever boy!" He ruffled the child's hair before kissing him on the forehead. The consulting detective then turned to the DI and scolded, "Lestrade—how could you possibly have missed this?!"
"Me?!" Greg cried out indignantly, "What about you?! You were at the bloody crime scene too—how did you manage to miss it?!"
"The wife had a seven year old daughter," Sherlock defended himself, "of course there were things lying around that would be for little girls! But this—this…Lestrade—go back to the house and find this jewelry box! Behind the music component you will find the evidence you need to prove that it was the husband behind the murder."
Greg passed a weary hand over his eyes and sighed, "Christ. If what I need is there, it will be enough to put this bastard away for life. I'm gonna need a drink after this one."
Sherlock scooped up the fallen photographs and handed them to the DI and said, "Well then, go collect your evidence and arrest your man, Inspector. I imagine that you should be able to meet John around the corner at Finnegan's for a pint by eight o'clock if you leave now."
Lestrade accepted the pictures and turned to the doctor with a raised eyebrow, a silent question.
"I could go for a Guinness," John confessed. "Text me when you're done—I'll meet you at the pub." Greg nodded in agreement and hurried down the stairs.
With a smug expression on his face, the consulting detective reclaimed his leather chair and picked up the book of fairy tales sitting on the end table. He had gotten into the habit of reading the stories before introducing them to Benedict, lest bedtime story hour became a disaster like the incident last week when they had read The Little Mermaid. Sherlock was unaware that the Disney film version had deviated drastically from the original tale written by Hans Christian Andersen. It had given the poor boy nightmares. Won't make that mistake again, he thought, leafing through the pages.
John watched his partner curiously. It seemed that Sherlock was full of surprises this evening. The offer for a pub night and now the screening of bedtime stories—he would have never imagined the genius could be so…domestic...before now. It was amazing. The doctor had seen the exact moment when Greg had realized that Sherlock had changed…speaking of which…
"Are you sure you don't mind if I go meet Greg for a pint?" John asked.
Sherlock glanced over the top of the book at his blogger. "Of course I don't mind, John. I wouldn't have suggested it otherwise. I'm sure both you and the good Detective Inspector could use one of your night outs."
The older man blinked rapidly several times as he tried to absorb what his partner had just said. "That's very thoughtful of you, Sherlock. Thank you. Are you sure you'll be alright tonight if I go out?"
"I think we'll manage," the detective stated with a smirk before turning to the toddler. "Won't we?"
Benedict nodded enthusiastically, thrilled at the idea of spending the night with Sherlock. They were able to get up to all sorts of fun things when his daddy wasn't around to scold his Sher.
John just shook his head and laughed. Lord only knew what the two of them got up to without supervision…maybe he should ask Mycroft about those hidden cameras that definitely weren't in the flat. Perhaps if he hid them, he'd do a better job keeping them from Sherlock than the elder Holmes' minions…that was something to contemplate later.
"Shall I fix dinner then?" the doctor asked aloud as he stood and retreated into the kitchen. Since his back was turned, he missed the conspiratorial looks that passed between his son and his boyfriend.
True enough to Sherlock's earlier words, the DI texted John at quarter to eight to say he had made his arrest and he was on his way to Finnegan's. The doctor shrugged into his light weight jacket and kissed his boys goodbye before joining their friend at the pub.
"God, I've missed this!" Greg groaned as he slid into the booth opposite John.
"I know! It's been nearly two months since we went out the last time," the doctor responded as a shapely ginger placed their drinks on the table between them. They thanked her but ignored her otherwise.
"I can't believe you have a son!" the DI exclaimed with a grin. "I'm still trying to wrap my head around it!"
"There are some days that even I can't believe it either," John confessed and took a large gulp of his stout. "I'm surprised that Mycroft didn't say something to you about Ben."
An odd expression flitted across Lestrade's face, but it was gone before the doctor had a chance to examine it more closely. "Yeah, well…he's a tight-lipped bugger when he wants to be."
"I would have thought that he would have told you though, given the way he positively dotes upon the kid," John told his mate.
Greg snorted into his beer and replied, "Oh I doubt that it's all to do with Benedict—as charming as the little guy is."
With a frown, John asked, "What are you on about?"
The DI stared at him like Sherlock did so often when he managed to miss the obvious points of an investigation. "Please tell me you're joking! Wow—you really have no idea do you?"
"No idea about what?" the doctor asked, slightly agitated. What was it that he was missing? Sherlock and now Greg—they both seemed to know something he didn't. And it was annoying him.
"You're both my best mates," Lestrade said cautiously, "I don't want to get in the middle of this. Seriously."
John crossed his arms in front of his chest and stared over the wooden expanse of the table that separated them. It was his infamous Captain Watson stare down that had sent chills of terror into many a young cadet's heart back in the day. He didn't need to say anything.
Sighing dejectedly, the DI finally answered, "I can't believe that you of all people don't recognize when someone's attracted to you."
"Oh come on!" John scoffed. "Mycroft's been a bit friendlier lately, but that certainly doesn't mean that he's attracted to me."
"No, perhaps not—but when you have it straight from the horse's mouth, it's hard to discount," Lestrade countered.
The doctor gave his friend a horrified look. "You're serious, aren't you? Oh, God! Greg—I'm sorry…"
The DI shrugged and said, "S'not your fault, mate. But if you're wondering why Sherlock's been in a piss poor mood about his sodden brother lately—that's why."
"So you've talked to Sherlock about this then?"
"A little, yeah. It was bothering him something fierce about a week ago. Figured something must of happened."
"Oh! It did!" John moaned and hid his face behind his hands.
"Alright, Johnny—you gonna tell me, or do I have to sit here all night guessing?" Greg wanted to know.
"The 'Gift Wars' is what's happened."
"Excuse me? What?"
"The Gift Wars is what I've been calling it," the doctor explained as he sat back against the vinyl cushion of the seat. "It started about a week after Ben came to live with us. It was innocent enough at first, but… Mycroft brought over a stack of coloring books one morning. That afternoon, Sherlock thought it necessary to buy out half the children's section of Waterstones."
"Well, that's not so bad…" Lestrade ventured.
"I have all seven Harry Potter books in a hard back set now."
"Oh."
"All because 'Ben' wanted them."
"Not thinking this is so bad, mate…"
"Alright, how about this?" John asked and leaned closer. "They've been doing this back and forth over the past few weeks—driving me positively mental! But when it was small stuff, I couldn't really care. I was willing to forget the whole book thing… it's also trips the sweet shop or bakery. New clothes or stuffed animals. Then last week, Sherlock bought Ben a children's chemistry set."
Lestrade downed the rest of his lager and shook his head. "I'm with you so far, but seems reasonable—Sherlock buying the kid that. Right up his street and all."
"Mycroft went and got Ben a violin the next day."
"Shit."
"Yeah."
"How did that go over?"
John flagged the waitress down and ordered another round before turning back to his companion to continue his tale of woe. "Sherlock was in a right foul mood for three days."
"Wait—hang on! That happened on Wednesday, didn't it?" Greg questioned.
"Yes it did," confirmed the doctor.
"Huh," the DI said as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Well—that explains a lot. He came by the Yard and gave me the usual run down of things my team had missed at the crime scene but then he started prattling on about how much of a git Mycroft was…now I know why!"
"You nearly had another murder on your hands," the doctor confessed in a hushed tone.
"Are you kidding? If those two went at it full force, it would be more like a double homicide," Lestrade corrected with a giggle, which John readily joined in.
"But seriously," the doctor replied, sobering up. "Can you do something to distract Mycroft?"
"Like what?"
"I don't know, Greg! Use your body or something!"
"You're suggesting I should seduce Mycroft Holmes like I'm a man-whore?!"
"Yes-no! Not like that!" John exclaimed. He was starting to feel the effects of the alcohol. "Can't you snog him senseless or something?"
That earned him a reproachful look. "Besides you, he's my best friend! You just don't randomly snog your mates unless you're an adolescent girl!"
"And you have a lot of personal experience with that, do you?" the doctor asked with barely contained mirth.
"John Watson!" Greg scolded, trying to keep a stern face. The effect was lost when they both burst out laughing at the same time.
It was well past eleven when John crept back into the flat. He was in much better spirits than he had been in a while. The good doctor loved his son—he really did, but caring for a child was absolutely exhausting! Not that he would have it any other way, but it was nice just to get out have a drink with his best mate—well, the best mate he wasn't currently sleeping with.
John was careful to avoid the squeaky board on the third step from the top and unlocked the door to their sitting room quietly. The only light was from the lamp on the end table next to the genius' chair. As he removed his jacket, the doctor scanned the room and stopped at the sight that greeted him. He smiled and had to take a moment to catch his breath.
Sherlock was lying on his back on the couch with Benedict nestled against his chest. The detective's right arm was wrapped around the toddler's little body, holding him securely in place even in sleep while the left dangled over the edge of the cushion onto the floor where it was gripping the heavy book of fairy tales.
He snapped a couple of pictures with his phone before he went and retrieved a blanket from the linen cupboard. John draped the quilt over the two and gently removed the book from his lover's grasp. Subconsciously, Sherlock brought his freed left hand up to cradle the back of Ben's head.
Choking back a sob, John brushed curls off of one forehead and placed a kiss there in its place and then repeated the process with the other. He stood staring down at them for several long moments before finally taking himself off to bed.
My sincerest thanks to everyone who has reviewed, followed, and favorited this story! And Thank you, Captain Evil for the reread and for helping to fill in the missing pieces. :)
