Sherlock raises his hand, ready to put the pill between his teeth when a shot rings out and the cabbie falls to the floor, a splash of red spreading across his shoulder. He turns to see a neat bullet hole in the window, directly in line with where the cabbie had been it. The room opposite has barely any light, but Sherlock sees a retreating body dashing from the room, strong moral value, he thinks.

The cabbie splutters, attracting Sherlock's attention once more.

He marches back to him and crouches, "was I right?" He demands. The cabbie stays frustratingly silent, Sherlock throws his pill away in anger, "you're dying, but there's still time to hurt you. My fan. Give me a name."

"No," he coughs.

"A name," Sherlock snarls, pressing the toe of his shoe against the cabbie's wound, "now."

He cries out in pain, "Moriarty."

Sherlock watches the man go limp and steps back, rolling the name around his mouth.

Moriarty.

After a moment he leaves the classroom, collar upturned and hands shoved into his pockets. He marches through the corridors, remembering the way he'd been brought in. His head snaps up upon hearing his name.

"Sherlock?" Lestrade jogs the few remaining metres, "what have I told you about leaving in the middle of a drugs bust? It just makes you look guilty."

Sherlock rolls his eyes and continues walking, "the cabbie is dead. Someone shot him."

"Right," Lestrade sighs rubbing his hand over his face and following Sherlock.

"Where is Hamish? He came with me," Sherlock asks as they leave the school, "he was left inside the taxi."

"The glass was smashed. There was no one in there, we thought he went in with you," Lestrade shrugs.

Sherlock's eyes widen and he looks around his surroundings as he's herded to an open ambulance. He narrows his eyes in thought and minutely flinches when someone drapes an orange blanket around his shoulders.

Lestrade reappears by his side, already looking bored with the ordeal.

"Why have they given me this blanket?"

"It's for shock."

"I'm not in shock," Sherlock says, unimpressed.

Lestrade rolls his eyes again, "our shooter must have cleared off before we got here. No sign of him. Got nothing to go on."

Sherlock gives him a look.

Sighing, Lestrade pulls out a small notebook, "alright, give me."

Sherlock takes a breath and begins how the shooter had been a crack shot and well versed with their weapon. He explains that he can't have just been a marksman, he must have been a fighter, someone acclimatised to violence. Their hand hadn't shaken at all. "…you're looking for a man with a possible history of military service and-" he trails off, spotting John and Hamish just outside the police tape, both innocently looking around at the flashing lights. Hamish is wearing John's coat over the top of his jumper and they're mumbling to each other, seemingly ignoring the police cars and flashing lights.

"Ignore me."

Lestrade blinks, "what?"

"Ignore everything I just said, it was the shock talking," Sherlock tears his eyes away from his son and possible flatmate. He moves to start towards them but Lestrade intercepts.

"Oi, where are you going?"

"What now? I'm in shock, look I've got a blanket. I need to," he pauses, "discuss the rent and get Hamish home, he has school tomorrow. I just caught you a serial killer, more or less."

"Fine, come in tomorrow."

Sherlock nods. He shrugs of the blanket and throws it into a police car, ducking under the police tape.

"Sher—" John starts, but Sherlock puts a hand around the back of John's head and pulls him in for a deep kiss.

Hamish makes a quiet choking noise and sticks out his tongue.

"You'd best get the powder burns out of your fingers," Sherlock rumbles against John's lips. He smiles, "good shot."

John chuckles, avoiding the topic, "what happened to 'married to my work'?"

"I'm sure it won't mind sharing me with you."

John laughs as Sherlock turns to Hamish.

"Are you alright?"

Hamish nods and presses his lips together.

Sherlock sighs, "you're getting far too big for this but, come here." He crouches down, which Hamish takes as an invitation to climb on his back, loosely wrapping his arms around Sherlock's neck. Sherlock stands, arms tucked under Hamish's legs in an awkward piggy back, "definitely too big," he grunts.

Hamish giggles and clings tighter, which makes Sherlock laugh quietly.

"Come on you two, you can't giggle. It's a crime scene."

Sherlock looks to John fondly, "dinner?"

"Starving."

"There's a good Chinese near Baker Street we often go to-"

John interrupts him and stops walking, he nods towards the suited man with the umbrella he had met earlier, who seemed to have gained access to the crime scene, "Sherlock, that's the man."

Hamish pulls on Sherlock's ear and hisses, "dad. Enemy at one o' clock."

Sherlock frowns and begins walking towards him.

"So, another case cracked," the man says, smiling at them.

"What are you doing here?"

"As ever, I'm concerned about you both, and your new," he glances at John, "friend. Has it ever occurred to you that we belong on the same side, Sherlock?"

"Oddly enough, no."

"This petty feud between us is simply childish, people will suffer. And you know how much it always upset mummy."

John whips his head up and turns his full attention to the man, Sherlock and then Hamish in turn. Sherlock and the man appear to be staring each other down, while Hamish watches over Sherlock's shoulder, bored.

"No wait, mummy? Who's mummy?"

"Grandmother," Hamish grumbles, pulling on Sherlock's curls, "uncle Mycroft." He says in greeting.

"This is your brother?" John asks, "so he's not, I don't know, criminal mastermind?"

Sherlock smiles in amusement "close enough. He is the British Government, when he's not busy being the British Secret Service or the CIA on a freelance basis."

Mycroft sighs in the way that only elder siblings have mastered.

"Evening, Mycroft," Sherlock turns, hitching Hamish higher up and begins walking down the street, away from the police cars.

John begins to follow, but stops and calls back, "so when you say you're concerned about them, you actually are concerned?"

"Yes, of course."

John nods slowly, "okay."

He turns and jogs to catch up with Sherlock.

"Your real injury," Hamish says, noticing his presence, "your shoulder?"

John nods, "yes. That's right, I-"

"The left?" Sherlock says.

John laughs, "lucky guess."

"We never guess, John," Sherlock smirks.

"Yes, you do," John laughs, "what are you so happy about anyway?"

"Moriarty."

"What's a Moriarty?"

"No idea."

Dinner passes uneventfully, and in their taxi ride home Hamish leans against John's side, full and quietly nodding off. Sherlock carries him into the flat and tucks him into the bed Mrs Hudson had set up in the upstairs bedroom and perches on the edge, gently running his fingers through the small boy's hair. John leans against the doorframe.

"A few years ago," Sherlock says quietly, "I accidentally overdosed. I was in hospital for a while, and then I checked myself into a rehabilitation clinic. I'd been on and off the various drugs since I first discovered them as a teenager. Hamish's mother, Mary, tried to get me off them. It worked for a while," Sherlock gently twists one of Hamish's curls around his finger, "she liked to think she'd cured me, and I let her. After she died I spiralled out of control and suddenly realised Hamish would not be allowed to stay with me if I continued the way I was. He lived with Mycroft while I was there."

"But you're better now," Hamish mumbles, not opening his eyes.

John smiles, "I thought you were asleep?"

"I am." John and Sherlock share a look, but Hamish continues, "I didn't like staying with Uncle Mycroft. He made me wear posh shirts and didn't let me eat cake and nice things. You don't make me do that."

Hamish yawns and Sherlock stands, patting Hamish's hip, "no I don't. Before Mary I'd been in relationships with both men and woman, and just before rehab I was with a man called Victor," Hamish grumbles under his breath, pulling his duvet tighter around himself, "he always thought he had to fight Hamish for my attention, and said a lot of… hurtful things to him."

"He's gone now though," Hamish smiles sleepily, "and I prefer John anyway, he's much nicer than anyone else we know. I want him to stay with us."

Sherlock looks to John, who smiles gently.

"That is completely John's decision to make, but I'm sure he'll consider it. Go to sleep, you've had a long day," Sherlock says gently, closing the door and motioning for John to go to the living room. Sherlock throws himself to sit on the sofa while John hovers with his hands in his pockets.

"Why did you take Hamish with you tonight? You could have left him with me."

"How could I say no to a serial killer? He wanted both of us. I knew I would be able to get out of it and come home unscathed, Hamish too," Sherlock presses his hands together and props his chin on them, "and if that failed I knew you would turn up eventually."

"So this is what you do, put yourself in danger to prove you're clever?"

"Why would I do that?"

"Because you're an idiot."

Sherlock smirks, "then, occasionally, yes."

"Does Hamish always get involved?" John asks carefully.

"No," Sherlock presses his lips together, "that was the second time something has happened to him directly. I won't allow it to happen again."

John shakes his head, "I've known you for one day and I've already killed a man for you."

Sherlock swallows, "listen, if you don't want to- I understand if-"

John moves forward to straddle Sherlock's thighs and presses a gentle kiss to his lips, "I'll start bringing my stuff over tomorrow," he grins.

"Will we need the third bedroom?" Sherlock asks hopefully, dropping his hands to grip John's hips.

John smiles and leans down to press another kiss to Sherlock's temple, "we'll see." He untangles himself from Sherlock's hands and stands, "goodnight Sherlock. See you tomorrow." He leaves the room with a small wave of his hand.

Sherlock hears John's footsteps become fainter until the front door shuts and the latch drops. He settles into the sofa and sighs happily.

And that's it folks! At least for A Study in Pink. A few people requested that I continue this parent storyline with the rest of the stories, and since I was considering it anyway I will definitely be writing The Blind Banker and other episodes. I have some written already and will be updating to this series soon following the events of TBB, Sherlock and John's developing relationship, and how Hamish fits in their lives.; "Smuggling Rings and Nightmares". I'll update this story when the new chapter is posted.

In the meantime I've been writing some little one shots about the trio's lives together with stories that might not have fit in the canon events in the main fanfictions; "Living With Hamish Holmes" (I've really fallen in love with this kid, I've had a lot of fun writing him)

Thank you so much everyone who has been reading and reviewing, I hope to update soon with the new story!