Disclaimer: I don't own BBC Sherlock. Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss are the creators.
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Chapter 14: Trust
A measly day relentlessly drags on as Sherlock paces behind their well-worn sofa practically praying for the day to end. Sherlock struggles to hold himself together as Hamish refuses to be held by him or go within arm's length of him, depleting him emotionally and corrupting him mentally. John comforts him as best he can with Sherlock's shell having been partially rebuilt, emotional responses limited like old days which hurts John since he is a passionate person but he knows Sherlock is dealing with this the best he can without excluding him completely. It's Sunday evening and John holds Hamish in his arms, unwilling to walk, reverting back to his subdued state like he was when they found him. It shouldn't' take that long for him to get over it should it? He looks at Sherlock in his anxious state, their eyes meeting once as he continues his pacing. John opens his mouth to speak, the intake of breathe making Sherlock turn and place a finger to lips politely as he stops his walking and heads to their room lying on John's side of the bed since the cot is on his side and he doesn't want to cause the toddler any more distress than he already has. Places his fingers under his chin he enters his mind palace not to sort it out but more as a distraction, letting the chaos to rush through him and keep him diverted from thinking deeply on his child's fear of him.
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Sun rays burst through their bedroom curtain, blinding John where the light escapes through a parting of the material. He groans and shifts from his back to his side facing Sherlock. His face looks tear-stained although looking in a seemingly peaceful sleep, John frowns biting his bottom lip with worry and sadness at the pain of his partner. He joined Sherlock an hour after he left the living room as Hamish fell asleep in his arms and fatigue crept up on him too, stealing his right to consciousness. As if feeling John's gaze on him, Sherlock stirs, eyes blinking slowly in the light, his gaze beholding two grey blue irises. Sherlock raises his hand to his cheek, feeling dampness and looks away ashamedly. John checks the time; he has to be at work in just over an hour but remains where he is instead moving closer to Sherlock and taking him in his arms.
"I can't do this." Sherlock whispers, burying his face tightly against John's shoulder. John continues holding him in a strong embrace, legs tangling as Sherlock moves himself closer still. John places a kiss to the detective's bed-hair curls, staying silent as he thinks about what to say.
"Do you have to go to work?" Sherlock continues, nervousness verging desperation clear in his voice.
"You know I do." John replies reluctantly. Sherlock groans into his chest and sighs raising his head so only his bright eyes are seen form under his ruffled hair. "You are adorable." John mutters softly and Sherlock smiles slightly, moving upwards to connect their lips.
"Why don't you stay here and we'll fuck all day?" Sherlock asks, moving himself from John's arms to his lap. John's eyes widen at Sherlock's profanity and a smirk rises on Sherlock's lips. He knows his language and action will affect John's decision to go, it'll also affect his bank account but who cares about the rent? This time John groans in frustration and a smile covers his lips.
"I…we…Sherlock you can't use yourself to keep me here." John states despite desire burning in his eyes.
"Well I just did." Sherlock retorts placing his hands on John's chest possessively. John leans up connecting their mouths roughly and messily, his tongue dominating Sherlock's mouth, surprising him enough to roll them over so he can stand up to get changed. Sherlock whines and pouts making John laugh as picks out a pair of navy jeans, a grey plaid shirt and a burgundy cardigan.
"I'll see you in 5 hours, call me if anything really bad happens and I'll call you on my breaks."
Sherlock looks over to the sleeping boy and inhales deeply.
"Ok." He responds chewing his bottom lip, a habit he's unintentionally gotten from John. John looks in the mirror wondering whether he has time to shave although there has been barely any growth since yesterday so he leaves it and quickly washes his face instead. Now fully dressed and with 20 minutes until he needs to leave, he makes 2 cups of tea and a beaker of Cowsgate for Hamish. Entering their room, he hands a cup to Sherlock and leaves the beaker by the drawer.
"Thanks." He mutters taking a sip from his beverage then frowning at the beaker, turning his head to a still sleeping Hamish.
"You'll be fine." John comforts, hastily kissing his partner, says his goodbye and leaves. I should wake him before his formula gets cold. Sherlock takes another deep breathe and walks over to Hamish in his cot, him sleeping in his cot alone making him anxious given he dislikes the thing, his refusal to stay in bed additionally hurting him. Sherlock walks over to the wooden structure, rocking it gently to awaken the child. Tiny limbs twitch and move, light blue eyes look upwards immediately going wide. A whimper escapes his lips, his head turning form side to side to search for his other dad. Water gathers in his eyes, his lower lip wobbling.
"I…Hamish…" Sherlock starts, he knows he can't hold out without John's presence, "Remember when I found you were in pain, so much pain and I wanted to help you. I couldn't leave you to be alone and scared. I helped you, I care for you, I will never hurt you. I love you so very much…" Sherlock trails off hoping his words are making sense, his voice thick with emotion. Hamish stops his tears, his head tilted to the side adorably, brows furrowed and lips pouted in contemplation. He raises his arms slowly for Sherlock to hold him, testing his trust.
Sherlock sighs, not realising he was holding his breath and readily takes Hamish into one of his arms, picking up the beaker with his other. Hamish takes the beaker, drinking half before handing it back to Sherlock.
"Daddy?"
"Yes, Hamish?"
"Do?"
"I don't know. What do you want to do?" Hamish shrugs his soldiers, noticing he's still tense, Sherlock put's him down allowing him to walk. He hopes that if they remain in constant company of each other he'll relax. To his surprise and relief Hamish keeps hold of his index finger as they walk into the kitchen. With all the mess of Jane that destroyed their lives over the last weeks, a routine is still being broken into as they learn to relax without John needing to sleep with his gun under his pillow. Sherlock eats a slice of buttered toast and an apple while warming up a bowl of banana and honey baby food for Hamish. He holds the green plastic spoon to Hamish's mouth as he messily yet cutely eats the puree, food occasionally spilling past his lips. Hamish taps to his chest and motions to the spoon, he wants to feed himself. Sherlock's composure wafts thinking Hamish doesn't want him, need him but Hamish smiles up at him as he manages to get his second mouthful into his mouth rather than his cheek. He hands the spoon back to Sherlock smiling from self-pride and finished the rest of his breakfast. After Sherlock and Hamish are dressed, they return to the living room where Sherlock lays out picture books and crayons and paper for Hamish. It has only been one day since he shot Jane and with their energy sapped, Hamish managed to sleep restlessly but Sherlock notices he keeps looking around for his favourite teddy, the one blown up by Jane. He wants comfort…should I hold him? Hug him? Hamish stops looking and returns to the objects in front of him.
Soon, Sherlock starts experimenting on the table and stove; body parts are retrieved from the freezer with boiling arms & burning fingertips taking up the kitchen. A call from John distracts him. He gives a brief update on their progression as well as confirming they have both eaten and drank something. Pacing up and down the room as he speaks leaves the kitchen unattended, equipment still on. Their conversation ends and Sherlock hangs up, his focus drawn to the lack of mass near him. He quickly scours for Hamish turning abruptly to the kitchen where Hamish has climbed on to the chair he was sitting in, looking inquisitively at the blue flame coming from the Bunsen burner. He extends a hand forward.
"No don't touch that!" Sherlock yells rapidly pulling the chair, arms around Hamish's stomach so he doesn't fall. Hamish immediately flinches away from his touch, turning his face to Sherlock, tears falling from his face silently as did happen when he first moved in with them. The fearful expression on his face from Sherlock's shouting cuts into Sherlock like a knife.
"I just can't get this right." Sherlock mutters closing his eyes and loosening his grip on his child. Sherlock picks up Hamish, holding him to his chest and rubs his back in circles, calming him down.
"I'm sorry it's just because…" Hamish raises his arms around Sherlock's neck, his pudgy arms playing with his curls and he rests his head against Sherlock's. I guess he understands. Sherlock stops his experimenting, turning off and putting away all dangerous elements and instead walks over to the sofa still carrying Hamish. He turns on the TV leaning back against the soft cushions until minutes later Hamish leans up and directs them so Sherlock is lying down and he is lying across him.
The TV starts, voices spewed from eth speakers loudly causing the toddler to stretch his arms for Sherlock to hold him as he cowers in his neck frightened of the box.
"It's ok Hamish." Sherlock eases, quickly turning the volume down. The toddler stares wide-eyed at the TV and realises that it is not a threat, moving his head from the detective's chest. Sherlock puts it on a more suitable station, Cbeebies, and smiles at Hamish as he gurgles and laughs at the children's programs. Sherlock quickly text's John
Me and Hamish are fine. Watching TV. He's tired but will get him something to eat. Sherlock eats another piece of fruit, heating another jar of baby food and milk for Hamish before settling back down on the sofa where the boy is barely conscious, his eyelids droopy. After eating, Hamish stills curled in Sherlock's arms and falls to sleep, the emotional rollercoaster tiring him. Sherlock places a kiss to his head, turning off the TV and remains lying on the sofa. 10 minutes until John returns. Despite wanting to see his partner, exhaustion smothers him too and he closes his eyes.
John walks into their flat, removing his jacket but aims to be quiet due to Sherlock's text saying Hamish is tired. What he did not expect to find is Hamish and Sherlock asleep on the sofa, Sherlock lying flat, his hands around Hamish with Hamish lying on his chest one arm around his neck. John smiles and puts a blanket over them placing a kiss on both their foreheads before making himself dinner.
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A/N – Can't remember if Hamish has watched TV but this was on my plan so kept it. So, I do have time to update woo! Again sorry I keep putting you guys on hiatus but I want to keep updating fluent so am trying my best. Will try to update again tomorrow (22nd) although haven't even started writing yet! You must love me for my perseverance :P reviews are always wanted and needed, whether good or bad, so I know what I'm writing is what you want so don't be shy ;) xox