Here's the last chapter. Yes, the last. There will be an epilogue featuring their holiday at the Watson mansion and about further recovery. I haven't looked it through fully yet but will during the day and tomorrow so changes might be made. The end might feel kind of sudden but I promise that more things will be spoken of in the epilogue.
Thanks everyone who'd been following this story and read it. I might do a re-write of the whole thing and erase parts that I'm not happy about and add things I've missed. Fill in plot holes ad such.
But for now. Here you are.
Someone was pulling his hair. Scratching his skin. Breaking his bones. The pain was just everywhere and the breaths burned as the entered his lungs like the first breath while stepping outside a winter morning. Shadows were crawling the red brick walls, hunting him as he tried to escape or hide. They always found him, pulled him back onto the thin mattress that was soaked with the foul water from the dripping pipes. Held him put. Continued their never ending torture to his already broken body.
Somewhere, faraway the tunes of a song echoed between the walls, reminding him of the pale face of mr Villain that any minute could walk through that thick metal door painted in green. He tried to call for someone, but his mouth wouldn't open. Tears fell freely down his cheeks as the dark figures clawed his skin, punched the breath out of him and he could taste the iron on his tongue. Hands were suddenly holding him down, trying to hurt him.
"Hamish!?"
How did the shadows know his name? He never told them. Or had he? It hurt badly as he tried to pull away, limbs burned and he kicked with heavy legs.
"C'mon, love! Wake up!" From what? The pipes dripped down in his face and he held his breath so he would breath in the disgusting smell from the water. "Hamish?" Suddenly one of the shadows turned into a face. Slowly, very slowly the features of someone he knew started to appear before him and the red walls crumbled around him. He knew those warm hands that held him down, those dry and well worked palms touched him every day.
"Daddy?" he cried and felt how the pains he'd felt was very real.
"Yes, yes. I'm here." John whispered and carded a hand through his hair. "I'm here with you." That's when Hamish saw the blood dripping from his nose and he bundled up his face when he slowly realised that he'd caused that.
"M'sorry." he cried and gave a small sob. "I didn't mean to."
"I know you didn't." John smiled and pulled him to his chest. "I'm okay. It's not your fault."
Hamish had been home for a week now, and every night had these kinds of dreams haunted him. Every time he fell asleep he'd woken up in panic, sometimes he screamed, sometimes he didn't breath. John didn't know what was more frightening. The boy sobbed loudly with his face spotted with blood buried to his chest. "C'mon, let's get cleaned up." Carefully he lifted him out of the bed, payed attention to his leg tat was to heavy for him to move and held it safely around his waist as they made their way to the bathroom. "It's okay, Hamish. There's no need to cry."
"I hate it!" he fumed as he was placed on the cold counter in the bathroom. His hand was still gripping onto John's shoulder and he refused to let go, his father caressed his dark hair that was now dripping with cold sweat and rubbed his back.
"I know, love." he whispered and tilted his head heavy head back to get a look of his face that was swollen by the salty tears and smeared with them and blood. "But it will get better, I promise." Hamish let go of his shoulder and wiped his tears while shaking in both fear and cold. Blood was dripping down his father's nose to his chin and chest, and Hamish stared at him.
"Does it hurt?" he asked and uttered a small hiccup as he wiped the snot of his nose. John gave a small laugh and reached for the towel on the rack.
"Not at all." he lied and soaked it under the tap to clean the both, starting with Hamish. "But I think the day can't come soon enough when you can get rid of that cast." The soaked but warm towel caressed Hamish's face and he leaned into the soft touch. The lack of sleep this week was making itself reminded whenever it got the chance and he sighed loudly as his head fell forward. "Hamish?"
"I'm so tired, daddy." he whined and quickly everything else that was wrong with life right now popped up in his head. "And I'm hungry, dizzy, everything hurts, you and dad are always worried and I don't like it. I just want it to be like before." The sound of splashing water interrupted him and he opened his eyes again to see the blood being washed down the drain, he wished he could do the same with all his problems.
"Hey." John sighed and clean his face quickly before picking his son up again, holding him close to his chest and the boy buried his nose in the t-shirt that smelled like him. "What did I tell you two seconds ago?" The boy sighed and flung his arm around his father's waist, buried his nails into the fabric.
"It get's better." he answered and fidgeted as the big cast took up place between them as always. "I know, daddy. I just guess I've inherited dad's lack of patience." John laughed and pressed a kiss to the top of his head, swayed back and forth with him where he sat and caressed his back.
"Wanna watch some telly and wait for dad to come home from the lab?"
"Only if there's warm milk included." he sighed without any hesitance.
They sank down amongst the pillows and blankets and Hamish crawled up close to his father for a cuddle and John placed his arm around him without a word. There wasn't really anything on but it didn't matter. What mattered was the calm this little scene held. Just not watching telly and cuddle could to so much after a nightmare and as Hamish placed his cheeks upon John's ribs he understood why interactions with others was so important. All this pain, he would never have managed on his own to carry it. He'd never been so thankful for what his father's were really doing for him.
He sipped the warm milk and felt the lump in the bottom of his stomach slowly dissolve and with a loud sigh he turned his head to look up at his father that disinterestedly watched the program. The boy observed his face and noticed the things Sherlock had taught him about John. Those little scars on the left side of his jaw just in front of his ear, old shrapnel wounds, was Hamish's thought at least. And then there was those little wrinkles around his eyes that made him look so wise, he liked those wrinkles, John on the other hand didn't.
"What is it?" John asked with a crocked smile and rubbed his arm, forcing his face closer to his side.
"Nothing." Hamish sighed. "I just don't understand why dad calls me handsome when that obviously should be your nickname." The doctor bursted into laughter and wrapped both arms around him to pull him up on his lap.
"Oh, you tosser." he laughed and kissed his face. "You're the handsome one. You always are." The boy grinned and kissed right back on John's cheek.
"I love you, daddy." he smiled and cupped his face with his working hand. His father giggled happily and pressed his forehead against his.
"I love you, too, Hamish." he whispered and nuzzled his nose. "I'm so glad I have you. My wonderful Hamish."
The sound of cracking floorboards disturbed their moment and John lifted his heavy head to look at his wonder of a son that seemed to have gotten back some of his sparkles in his eyes. To be honest John could see that something had returned that hadn't been there for a long time. The boy blinked at him, pressed his lips together until they turned white as if he was keeping a secret and John could not figure out what.
"What?" he asked and heard the heavy steps of Greg leaving the upstairs bedroom to join them in the sitting room.
"There is something I haven't told you." he whispered and the spark slowly turned into flaming fright that made John's insides knot.
"What is it?" he asked in worry and cupped his face. "Tell me."
Greg stepped into the room, scratching the back of his head and yawning wide and shamelessly. When his system finally was filled with enough oxygen again he blinked and turned to the two on the sofa with a tired smile.
"Evening." he sighed and dropped his arm to his side. "Everything alright?"
"Nightmares." Hamish groaned and fell forward until he rested in John's chest where he could hear that his father's pulse was unusually fast, like he'd just had a fright. "But it's okay now."
"Good." Greg said with a friendly nod. "I was just making some tea? Anyone?"
"Yes, please." John sighed and wrapped his arms around his son again, trying to calm himself after the sudden announcement. He couldn't stop wondering what exactly Hamish wanted to tell him and he had no ideas either.
"Hamish? Warm milk?" Greg continued and pointed at the little boy who had no intension to get back to sleep for an hour at least. He nodded and let John move him back on the sofa with his head on his lap. A big pillow was placed under his pest of metal and he cried out as he felt one of the pegs move in his skin.
"Oh, sorry." John whimpered and grabbed a hold of his foot to stop the movements quickly. "Are you okay?" His face might be bundled up in pain for the expected pain but it never came, usually it blossomed from his ankle and all the way up to his chest but this time he considered himself lucky. It was nothing more than a sting.
"Yes." he croaked and let go of his deep breath. "I'm fine." A warm hand caressed his forehead and he opened his eyes to see his father upside down. "I'm okay."
"Good," John sighed in relief since he knew the cries that would follow a sudden pain in those wounds and he looked up at the many screws digging into Hamish's skin. "What was it that you wanted to tell me by the way?"
Right, the secret. Hamish sighed and swallowed while thinking about some careful words he could use. This was a fragile matter, but also something he needed to do before they left London. He'd pretended something that wasn't fair way to long.
"I need to..." he started and took a deep breath. "Please, daddy, before you say anything, anything at all, could you maybe don't say a word until I'm done?" This worried John, and he had no idea where it would lead but he couldn't deny the request.
"Of course." he said and took his little hand his his, rubbed his thumb across his knuckled. Hamish licked his lips and clear his throat.
"When we where at the hospital I heard you and dad talk when you thought I was asleep. I thought that maybe it was a dream because all those medications made my head fuzzy but lately your talk had become more clear and..." He decided to get to the point. "I want to meet Sebastian." His father twitched and tilted his head to the side, but he was not opening his mouth. "I just... need to. I've thinking about it a lot and.. I don't think I can move on without having a proper talk with him."
This might be just the last thing John expected. His insides went cold by something that did not quite feel like fear but maybe it was close. This decision Hamish had made, was it the grown up thing to do or just idiotic, he could not be the judge of that, but he didn't want that man to be in the same room as Hamish ever again. He didn't want that lowlife to even look at him, talk to him, not even toss a glimpse at their son.
"Hamish.." he quaked and scratched his forehead. "I... um.."
"I need to do this daddy." Hamish begged and reached out his hand to wrap it around his wrist. The doctor screwed his eyes shut and let out a painful groan, he he slid down on the floor and kneeled beside his son to get a good look at him.
"Why?" he asked and brought his little hand to his lips like tried to silence himself. After all he'd promised his son that he wasn't going to interrupt. Hamish swallowed again and looked straight at his father.
"Because if what dad said about him is true, then he isn't a bad person." Hamish said with some pain in his small voice. "And I really liked the man I talked to before.." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a short second. "before the incident. And even if what he did was wrong and it lead me to the stage where I am now, I need to forgive him." Tears started to well down his cheeks and John wiped them with his thumb, himself on the edge of crying. "He put other peoples life in danger to save his mother. I don't see much of a difference between that and what I did to save you."
"He had a choice." John murmured with a strangled voice and shook his head unnoticeably. "You did those things under threats."
"Yes! But if you thing of the differences between both of our situations there aren't many." Hamish sighed and pulled a sad face. "Please, daddy. I'm asking for ten minutes with him."
"Hamish." he sighed and furrowed his brow, this was something he didn't want to agree to.
"I need to." Hamish continued and held his hand hard. "Nothing will happen to me."
John didn't know how he was persuaded to this but here they where, sitting at Greg's office waiting for someone John never wanted to lay his eyes upon but that was not the worth part. No, Hamish had talked him and Sherlock into more things than just letting him see Sebastian, their little boy had convinced them to leave him alone with the man with no one else than Greg in the room. This was something the doctor didn't like but somehow Sherlock had been on Hamish's side. Maybe this was the only way to have closure.
Or maybe it would make things worse.
He squeezed Sherlock's hand hard and took a painfully deep breath before turning to him, saw his achingly clenched jaw and fluttering nostrils. That's when he understood that Sherlock might have agreed to this easily but he still didn't enjoy the thought of what was about to happen.
In the grey gloom caused by the snow falling outside they saw Hamish glance over his shoulder at Sherlock and with a tired sigh he gave a small nod as a declaration that he could do this. It was time for them to leave even if they wanted to or not. They'd, somehow, promised that Hamish could be alone with Sebastian and Greg, he thought that their presence only would make things harder and he needed to have this courage. His stomach might never have ached so much but how ever would he get through this if he didn't just get on with it.
The door closed softly and he lifted his heavy head to look out over the office that matched Greg's hair. It was cold, or maybe that was just psychosomatic, however his skin was prickled and it could easily be seen across the room. He rubbed his arm with the hard cast and fidgeted in the wheelchair that he hated, thought about this a little more thorough and came to the same conclusion as any other time.
He had no idea what he was doing.
"Hamish?" The copper looked at him over the desk, his nameplate glistening in silver and shiny black and pencils neatly sorted after size beside his keyboard. "Just tell me and I'll get you out of here." The boy nodded and took a deep breath when he heard the footsteps draw nearer, he would know those dragging feet anywhere and he recognised the squeaking of a torn rubber sole. Soon the smells of oil and cigarettes spread, Sebastian had picked that habit up, Hamish could tell and he took a deep breath to notice the undertones. Plastic, rubber, aftershave, salt.
He opened the eyes he never realised he'd closed and looked down on a pair of old converse that now were soaked by melting snow and he swallowed thickly. They were in the same room now and Hamish's stomach clenched painfully when suddenly something... Something distant made itself reminded. Something important he couldn't place.
"Hello, Hamish." a soft voice murmured and it pierced right through him like a dagger. His bottom lip was probably blue and swollen by now after the long seconds he'd been sucking on it and slowly he looked up under his thick, dark fringe. The outlines of Sebastian's face was all he saw, but for now that was enough.
"Sit down, Mr Grimm." Greg begged and signed for the chair beside his desk.
Grimm? Hamish managed to choke the whimper that nearly escaped and he clenched his jaw. Of all the names this man had to be named Grimm. Was that fitting or just hilarious?
The two officers that had brought the young man in left and closed the door behind them with a loud thud and the boy twitched in his chair by the sudden noise. Then there was a long silence. A good silence that gave him time to think and calm his nerves. He knew they were all waiting for him to speak and he was going to do so.
"Sebastian Grimm?" he asked with a voice that surprisingly sounded quite brave despite the situation. "Really?" He lifted his head and looked right at the man that once had been a friend to him, what a fool he'd been. But the sight was not quite what he'd expected. Sebastian, who during the few days they'd known each other, didn't look as crumpled and melancholy as he usually did. His body was wracked, he'd lost half his weight, the hollows of his eyes were grey and he didn't look as young as before. Something was wrong with him and that's when Hamish noticed the tears falling down his hollowed cheeks.
"Yeah." the man scoffed and wiped the droplets with cuffed hands. "No relations, though. It would have been cool but sadly that isn't the case." Hamish felt the corner of his mouth twitch but he managed to contain the smile. This man didn't deserve that yet. Sebastian sniffled and lowered his hands from his face to rub them on his disgustingly thin thighs, after seeing him Hamish would never call his father slim again. This was a whole new level of that.
"How's your mother?" Hamish asked and saw how the young man smiled sadly.
"She's fine." he answered but the son of a detective could read lies all over him. His mother was not fine, Sebastian was not fine, no one was fine. He lowered his head for a second, he needed to take time to accept that he actually felt bad for this man. Jesus, Sebastian was a mess. Once again he was addicted to painkiller, he'd stopped eating, the nicotine was reeking off him and those clothes where filthier that Hamish had ever seen them.
"Seb.." he mumbled.
"Please, Hamish." Sebastian interrupted and shook his head. "Let me explain something."
"I know already." Hamish said quickly and scratched his nail upon the white cast. "I know why you did it and... I can understand that." Sebastian tired to say something by Hamish didn't let him. "We do all stupid things for the people we love and... I think I was lucky it was you... kidnapping me that is. If it hadn't been you someone else would have and god knows what kind of deranged man M.. Mor... he had found then. And I do have a distinct memory of you... being there... when I was saved." While speaking those words it slowly cleared. He looked up at Greg who looked more tired than ever and the man nodded. Yes, Hamish remembered. It wasn't more than small flickers but he could almost remember that dream that wasn't quite a dream. It was more than that. After all it wasn't Greg that had pulled him out of that prison of his, it was Sebastian. Slowly he turned to said man again, amazed that he hadn't cried yet or didn't even feel angry. Why wasn't he angry. "You saved me, didn't you?" he questioned with a small ounce of surprise trapped in his childish voice that for once sounded quite grown. Carefully he roamed the young man a second time and for once proud of his deduction skill. The small things he saw made Sebastian appear more and more of a human than a villain. Just as lost as Hamish himself.
"I wouldn't call it save." Sebastian sniffled and twirled the cuff around his left wrist.
"I would." Greg added into the conversation between the two. "As my nephew says, there's a lot of bad people out there, Sebastian, and even if what you did was wrong you did it for a good reason and at the end you managed to repay." The little boy looked up at his uncle, observed the face that had gone from stale and stone cold to warm and friendly towards the young man. Greg understood as well and Hamish smiled. Despite everything that had happened his dearest wouldn't blame Sebastian for it all. He was just a piece in Moriarty's puzzle that didn't quite want to fit but had another board to get to. Hamish was lucky, any other man hired by mr Villain could just have been the death of him.
"Please." Sebastian sobbed and crumpled even more on the hard chair while shaking his head. "I'm so sorry, Hamish. For everything I did to you. The moment I... I saw you in the corridor with that nuclear explosion on the shirt I decided against my decision. But the moment I stepped into the hall of my home that night I saw my mother with new bruises on her arms and... I just had to... do something. It wasn't fair to you. It really wasn't. I'm so sorry."
Surprisingly Hamish managed to hold back the tears threatening to fall. Now he knew why he couldn't hate this man. He looked down at the green jeans, flicked a finger over the needles holding the fabric together around his thigh since he could step into a pair of pants with that hellish pest of metal and tried to imagine Sebastian's state. Suddenly he felt more bad about him that himself. Hamish would rather go though this whole thing all over again rather than seeing his father's get hurt. That poor sod. He'd gone though a bigger hell than Hamish ever had.
"Did.. did you grow up like that?" he asked without taking his eyes of the needles. "Always worrying about your mother?" Sebastian scoffed under his breath, wiped his tears a second time before nodding.
"Every damn day." he answered with a trembling voice that could belong to an old man and Hamish felt his gut clench. He remembered something else now, something he hadn't really thought about since the event. Their conversation before Sebastian's eyes turned dark outside of school and everything turned from friendly to deadly. This young man, nearly boy, had always lived his life alone. He'd grown up with a loving mother, abusive father and hurtful friends. Then a girlfriend who died because of him that made him trip into the deep ocean of addiction.
This was the tipping point for little Hamish. Tears started to fall and once again Sebastian started to beg for his forgiveness, which he already had, but Hamish wanted to give him something else right now. Something that Sebastian probably never had had.
"Sebastian." he sniffled and looked up at the broken man soaked in tears and cold sweat. "D'you remember when we took that walk?"
A small sound that sounded either like a lough or a sob was all that was uttered by the man but a smile managed to break through in his face.
"Yes." he said and furrowed his brow painfully. "Please.."
"No!" Hamish interrupted quickly and shook his head fiercely. "Listen." Both of them took a deep breath, stared into the dept of each other when Sebastian saw something he wasn't prepared for today, and probably something he'd never encountered. Sympathy. Hamish continued. "I don't have many friends. In fact none at all and sometimes I question myself if maybe a bad friend is better than none at all, at least since you... said so. And right now I'm prepared to say yes." The man swallowed hard and looked at the little boy with big, brown eyes glistening in tears but most of all something familiar to hope. "And by that acceptance I suddenly have one." Hamish smiled like the child he was and held up one finger on his still functioning hand. "And he is really not that bad. Just an idiot sometimes." Something heavy disappeared from Hamish chest as he said those words and a warmth spread into his loins.
It looked like Sebastian was about to collapse to that sentence and he stared at the boy with wide open eyes and suddenly not a sound was heard from him. He's stopped breathing and somehow it seemed like Hamish had stopped all human functions in him. The boy stared in fear as he lowered his finger and tilted his head a little to the side to observe what'd just happened. Had he broken him?
Suddenly Sebastian lowered his head, his his welling eyes in his cold hand and sobbed uncontrollably while shaking like a leaf. Was it relief or self hatred, Hamish wondered while wiping his own tears and turning to Greg who seemed awfully exhausted all of a sudden. Leaning back in his chair with arms wrapped around himself the copper blinked and turned to his little nephew with a smile glowing with proud.
"Could you?" Hamish asked and cleared his throat. "Push me a little closer?" His uncle got up and hurried behind the wheelchair, released the breaks and wheeled him towards the man who curled up even more. Then Greg retreated to the other side of the room and there was only the two of them.
Hamish leaned forward, tried to look underneath that fringe that had lost it ruff it usually had but couldn't see his face because of the big hands hiding them.
"Seb?" he murmured and nibbled the inside of his cheek. "You should shut up now." The man gave a chuckle and slowly lowered his hands, almost jumped when he saw that the boy had moved in closer. He sucked it up, stopped crying on the second but refused to look at him.
"You are so big for your age, Hamish." he sighed and shook his head in disbelief. "Mentally that is. And for being an genius your heart is the biggest I've ever encountered."
"I'm a perfect combination between my dad's." he murmured with a crocked smile and got an odd lock from his friend which he often did when he spoke of his parents in that way. "My daddy's sister carried me so I am related to them both." That made the smile bigger on Sebastian's lips and only that felt like a huge accomplishment.
"Well aren't you a lucky boy?" he chimed and those brown eyes looked just as friendly as the first time they met, once again Hamish secretly wished that Sebastian could be his bother. A friend was close enough.
"I guess I am." Hamish grinned, referring to many things. Slowly and uncertain Sebastian lifted his hands and brought them forward, the boy didn't move or even flinch and soon he received a friendly ruffle in his hair.
"I guess I'm lucky too. Having a friend like you." he murmured and let his hands fall back on his lap. "But I'm still sorry. For every little thing I've done. Don't think too good of me."
"I don't think too good of anyone and never have." Hamish chimed and felt his heart go warm as he brought forward the first laugh from his friend. Things might just be alright in the end, for them both.
Both his father's, who was little to say surprised as Hamish was rolled out of Greg's office with a smile on his lips, stared at him in wonder. Their expectations had begged the differ and had been proved wrong when their son reached out his arms to be held by either of them and John, who was the closest had embraced him and held him tight.
"It went well." Hamish whispered and smiled to himself while snuggling close to the nape of his neck. "Very well."
"Good." John whispered back and kissed his temple while sighing through his nose. "Good."
Only minutes after that they located themselves at Angelo's enjoying a lovely meal and Hamish ate like he hadn't done in days. His father's watched him so hard they nearly forgot their own portions and the boy laughed heartedly at them both as they walked on eggshells around him. Things suddenly became so clear when he thought back on the passed days. How he'd lived in fear of something that his dad had erased from the surface of the earth and how long it had taken him to realise why Sebastian had done these things when the hints had been there since the beginning. He shouldn't have been that surprised. Maybe it was his young age that had made him blind or maybe the thought 'that will never happen to me' was just to kind to him.
They returned him and Sherlock made a few calls while he and John snuggled on the sofa, watched some cartoons and the next episode of Doctor Who. Hamish knew very well who his father was talking to. The tone he was using, the strictness in his voice. It was Greg on the other line and that man carefully talked him through what exactly had happened during the meeting. Sherlock had then returned to the sitting room with a face painted with surprise and pride and he made his way over to his son to press a kiss to his brow while he was resting in his father's lap.
"You're a good boy, handsome." he whispered before straightening his back and turned to his laptop. John didn't understand a thing but figured that he would be informed later. That night went on slowly, but it was different in so many ways. They didn't speak much but when they did there were no more eggshells, no more codes or anxiousness. But to the parents biggest delight Hamish seemed to not be able to stop smiling. No one else than Hamish himself had created this happiness and Sherlock felt bigger on the inside with that knowledge. He and John had raised something beautiful.
That night Hamish slept.
Yes, Hamish found his cure at last and might have been a resort none of you saw coming. I hope you're not disappointed with anything about the ending.
Please, leave a review and I'll be ever so happy.