Epilogue
Four months later things weren't much different for Sherlock. He was still running around solving cases with his fiancée, the two of them helping Victor study and prepare for an entrance exam to return to University. Victor and John had taken up going to the gym, which Sherlock didn't regret letting him do. Greg and Mycroft actually enjoyed coming by the flat now and again for dinner with the three men, though Mycroft had initially been greatly displeased with their arrangement. Victor worked long hours for his father and the trio enjoyed every moment they could spare to be together. So it wasn't a surprise when Sherlock got the following text:
Victor got into University and has purchased his own flat, we're celebrating tonight. You'd better be at the flat by 7:00 sharp or you're in trouble. JWH
Sherlock grinned, he loved how John kept adding that H to his name when he text him. They hadn't made things actually official just yet because cases had come but Victor and John had been planning some sort of ceremony that Sherlock was expected to go along with. He knew John would not be meeting him at St. Bart's to look over the chemical reports from this latest case because tonight was the night he and Victor went to the gym. The problem was he got hung up at the lab explaining things to Greg in order to close the case. It was 7:30 when the cab pulled up outside the flat and he was surprised to see that most of the lights in the flat were out. He scaled the steps, walking in and taking off his coat.
"You're late." John's voice said darkly from the kitchen. "Close the door." He commanded. Sherlock swallowed hard. Was he angry? He couldn't tell. He shut the door and locked it, moving towards the kitchen and he groaned.
John was wearing his uniform, the new set of dog tags that Sherlock and Victor had given him, one each with a romantic message from his lovers, shining on his chest. His new more muscular form making the uniform look even more amazing than before and a pair of handcuffs in his hands.
"Very late." Victor said from behind him, appearing from the direction of the bedroom. He was in a very dashing suit, all the way done up. Sherlock felt desire rush through him, which only intensified when he saw that Victor had his riding crop in his hand.
"I think we need to punish him." John smirked.
"My type of celebration." Victor smirked as well, stepping closer to Sherlock.
Sherlock's last cohesive thought that evening was: Well shit... Maybe I should be late more often.
A few months later Victor moved out, he'd purchased his own flat and decided it was time to try to build his own life. But John didn't have time to think about that because shortly after Victor left Sherlock and he were called on a case to investigate the grisly murder of a young couple. While on the scene Sherlock shouted at everyone to be silent and leaned down opening a hidden trap door to reveal a baby boy who was screaming his lungs out. Greg, John, Donovan, and Anderson watched in confused awe as Sherlock cuddled the child close, bouncing him and whispering to him.
"Those were his parents." John said softly, looking up.
"According to the records they don't have any family..." Lestrade sighed.
"We'll take care of him..." Sherlock said suddenly.
"Just until his family comes forward." John added sternly.
But no one ever showed but the biggest surprise for John came when three days later Sherlock rushed up the stairs to Baker Street with the baby boy in one arm and an adoption certificate in the other.
"Hamish Watson-Holmes?" John asked incredulously. "Sherlock..."
"He needs us John! He doesn't have anyone else!" Sherlock said eagerly.
This brilliant, impulsive man...
Notes: A little epilogue to wrap things up and setup the next story. It's not the best thing ever but it's still sweet and cute! Keep an eye out for the sequel:
All He Wants for Christmas
