Damp and musty earthen air hit his lungs as he came to...still... so still he lay to listen for the minute changes... even in the air if he had to. He felt alone, no other sentient presence in the area. He could not tell if he was in a walled room, it almost felt as such, but he never was one to make assumptions. It was very cool, but most positively indoors... if he had to guess he'd say basement. That would account for the muffled feel of his senses. His mind righting itself, it struggled to raise out of the depths it had plumbed... drugged then. He felt odd, lighte-

Hamish.

Catalogue took lightning by storm it was so swift... mouth, hands, wrists... bound. Duct tape. eyes... fine but blinded... unshakable. Lower thighs, calves, ankles... bound. Duct tape. No shoes, but socks... interesting. Still had all other clothing, to bind him up better he supposed... where was his godson? his... John's child... oh, let him...

Stop. You cannot get out of this if you do not stay focused.

Still. His mind quieted he really listened again... desperate to find his bearings.

Walls... definite... basement seemed most likely, yet again due to the mouldy quality... the floor thin grade carpet... cheap area rug... hard underneath so wood or concrete... traffic... footfall above... mewling... scuffle... a kitten possibly? Once again he knew he had to extend his mind back to functioning parameters... it was familiar. All of this was... wait. His ears... protectors... who ever this was would burn... too good and got too close... no warning.

The scuff... against wood... agitation of something getting the best of it... possibly the kitten-

Not a kitten. No... not quite... Hamish!

He found himself praying to John's God, once again, in supplication... Please, let him live. Let me get to him... first he himself had to figure out the game... what it was and where they were.

THINK.

Hamish must be in a box or some sort of wooden thing. Might have been sleeping might have not... would explain why the room felt more alive... or their captor had come in. No. There had not been a temperature change. So they were alone, wherever they were. Familiar... on the edges. He rubbed hard on the covering for his eyes, the burn of the thin carpet against his cheek turned angry with heat as he repeated the exercise. He'd be damned if they... if something happened to Hamish... he'd rather...

AGAIN... move... eyes... they were the most important in this.

Shove, fabric yields a millimetre. Harder... again... lowlight on his cheek. Room isn't illuminated, but might very well have 'night vision' cameras or motion sensors... he'd be damned not to see his godson again. The repetitive noise on the edge seemed muffled still... but there. Hamish had air then... wasn't wailing... would hear that... possibly.

His left cheek abraded and bled, but he was able to finally get just enough away to see a sliver... he pushed hard one more time, shook hard... at least he could see. Finally. One eye, but enough... he knew where he was and they were all most definitely in danger...

The mobile lay parallel to his vision... must be off... should he work to turn it on?

Yes... not with hands... teeth.

With painstakingly slow movement he made his way to the mobile... it was only a few centimetres... then his chin had it. Fuck! His mouth... he couldn't even move the tape... still he rolled, could feel the hardness against his head... scooted until his fingertips felt the edges of the mobile. The room had gone still again... Hamish... of he wished he could see him... hear him. The stillness was more desperate... he began to tick off causes of death of the newborn, just to bite back an anguished cry, swallow it whole. It would serve no purpose... but to turn his mobile on... the GPS would activate and notify Mycroft, possibly John immediately...

Please God, for John... please...

Nothing. No noise... but his phone had been on silent... he had to believe that it hadn't been worn to nothing... he rolled on his back to access the corner of the room when he saw the trap. More elaborate than the Chinese Spider's act, but just as deadly.

Fuck.

He'd... Hamish could be safe. It would be alright... he'd given himself up for his father, of course he'd do it for the little one. Sweet child, the home you have made in my heart... I wish that I could be with you to see you grow... I am so sorry I'll be leaving so soon. Your father... he'll have to understand. He'd not cry... no... he'd be thankful instead. Calm... accept his fate... they'd live... they'd go on. If John couldn't... please do John... Please... if he couldn't the Lestrade's would have a son to raise along with their own child... they'd never have to worry for a thing for the children... Mycroft would not fight the choices. He knew Gregory was a good man...

Please John... please live for my godson... your beautiful boy... please... forgive me.

Hamish... he brought the child once again to the fore front. His first thready hours... the first time the hot little fleshy bumble touched his bare chest and was wrapped lightly blankets only to add weight... the miracle that was. Velvety newness... sweet amniotic smell still clung in his fluff of hair. Him breathing... his whole body fit against Sherlock's sternum... his heart soothing the babe... the babe enthralling him. Luxurious... decadent... he'd wanted to become lost, to be able to drift along with Hamish, to dream as he dreamt. Soft warmth most likely, Mary's steady heart, the loud white noise of a living body... possibly John's voice... possibly music...

The tears fell, soaked his covering. He didn't feel them... lost in the halls he'd given to Hamish... the ones yet to be explored. His mind imagined the three of them older, Hamish growing attending Eton or Harrow... John wistful with him that day... no, too painful.

Bumble, babe, sweet Hamish. His arms ached for him one last time... for a fleeting moment, he wondered if this was what Mary had felt, knowing she would die, but that he could live. He'd never had the chance... if there was an afterlife he'd sing her praises to her there.

Noise now above him... it wouldn't be long now. He was alright with that.

Hamish was all that mattered.