Hey guys! Just wanted to say I'm sorry, about the extra day on updating, but I had crazy performance schedules on Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday, so writing has been pretty hard this week. So sorry about that! This chapter is meant as sort of a cute, fluffy, filler chapter. =) I plan to update on Saturday (hopefully!), but if not, Sunday for sure. =)
Thank you so much you guys! You all are wonderful and I don't know what I would do without your lovely reviews and follows and favorites, so really, thank you so much! =) Have a great week, guys! (Again, so sorry for the wait!)
PLEASE READ THE UPDATE:
UPDATE: Okay, so I was supposed to update today (Sunday), but unfortunately my computer like freaked out last night, and I lost the entire chapter, which was all but completed. =( So I've been frantically trying to redo it, and as a result, I'm afraid updating is going to have to be pushed to Monday. I've nearly got it finished, so I may just update it later today… But I know I promised to have it done today, and I sincerely apologize that my computer crashed! Your patience is so wonderful, guys and I really appreciate it! As a result, I plan to update sooner than usual, so probably on Tuesday. (That is, if my computer doesn't freak out again!)I'm so sorry for the delay! But thank you all for understanding! =) You're the best.
Thanks again! (Also, if you could let me know if you would prefer me to update later today, or just wait until tomorrow, I would greatly appreciate it!) Thanks!
Chapter Twenty-Eight: A Baby
Sherlock was awoken by the sound of John bustling up the stairs. Even in his hazy state, the detective could tell his friend was in a hurry, his footsteps quick and light on the wooden stairs.
"What is it, John?" he whispered, not even bothering to open his eyes as he could tell it was still it was still dark outside.
"It's Molly," John breathed, taking note of Hamish's sleeping form on Sherlock's chest. "She's gone into labour and she would like us to be at the hospital with her. "
"Oh. Uhh... Of cour—right," the detective mumbled awkwardly, sitting up on the couch. "I'll need to get him ready first, though." He gave a tiny nod to the little boy sleeping in his arms.
"Sure, sure," John whispered back, trying not to wake Hamish. "Well, I'm going to head over, seeing as she's got no one there right now. Umm... I suppose just text me when you're on your way and I'll let you know which room she's in."
"Good. Yes. How uhh—" The detective cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. "How long do you think—I mean—for Hamish..."
"Just depends on the woman, Sherlock," John chuckled, giving his friend a knowing look. "Just head over whenever you're ready. I'll be sure to let you know if anything major happens."
"Yes."
"Right then. See you." With a small nod of his head and a smile at Hamish's sleeping form, the doctor quickly slipped out of the flat, disappearing into the brisk night.
Sherlock gazed after him, listening to the quiet of the flat. "Hospital. Right... Yes," he murmured to himself, slowly getting up off the couch as he took a deep, tired breath. "Well, Hamish... It looks like you're finally going to get to meet Molly's baby." The detective couldn't help but smile as he imagined his son's reaction. "Mmm," he sighed tiredly, pressing a quick kiss to the little boy's curls.
Wanting to give Hamish the opportunity to sleep more, Sherlock slipped away into his room, gently placing the little boy under the covers. "There we go," he whispered, running his fingertips over Hamish's cheek. With a small smile, the detective quickly pulled back, grabbing a new set of clothes and disappeared from the room.
After getting dressed, Sherlock quickly put together a bag for Hamish, and pulled on his coat and scarf.
"Hamish? Hamish, I need you to wake up for me," Sherlock murmured, gently pulling the little boy out of bed and into his arms.
Eyes fluttering open, Hamish moaned quietly, unhappy at having been woken up at such an early hour. "Mmm... No, Da'ey," he whispered, shaking his head against the detective's arm. "No 'ease..."
"I know," Sherlock chuckled, giving the little boy an affectionate pat on the back. "But we have to go the hospital to see Molly; she's having her baby right now and would like us to come visit her."
"What, Da'ey?" Hamish asked tiredly, closing his eyes and leaning his weight into the detective as he tried to fall asleep once again.
"...Nothing," Sherlock murmured lovingly, pressing his son's tired form closer. "You can rest. I'll get us ready."
"Mmm-hmm."
With careful movements, Sherlock slowly lowered Hamish onto the bed again and managed to tug off his nappy without waking him and then quickly pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Smiling at his son's tiny form, the detective quickly left the room, grabbing Hamish's tiny coat and hurried back, wrapping the little boy in the fabric. "Here we are," he whispered, pulling Hamish back into his arms.
"Tie, Daddy?" the little boy asked quietly, awoken by the movement.
"Yes. Up time."
"'Kay, Daddy... No like."
Sherlock laughed, moving Hamish to his hip as he left the bedroom. "Sorry," he chuckled, finding the diaper bag and slinging it over his shoulder. "I know; it's pretty early, isn't it?"
"Mmm-hmm. What, Daddy?"
"What are we doing up this early?" Sherlock asked, pausing in the middle of the kitchen to gaze questioningly at Hamish.
"'Es, Daddy. What?"
"Well," the detective sighed dramatically, bending down to set the little boy on the ground. Almost smiling in anticipation, Sherlock took each of Hamish's hands in his own, to hold him steady, and stared into the little boy's deep green eyes. "We have to go to the hospital," he stated seriously, trying to conceal his smile.
"What, Daddy?" Hamish gasped anxiously, suddenly very alert.
"Because," Sherlock whispered slyly, a small grin spreading across his face as he gave his son's hands a gentle squeeze. "Molly's at the hospital right now having her baby."
Hamish gasped, his eyes widening in amazement as he grasped onto his father's fingers, all traces of tiredness quickly disappearing. "See baby?" he asked incredulously, already beginning to vibrate with excitement.
"Yes!" Sherlock encouraged, grinning at his son. "Ready now?"
"'Es, 'es, Daddy! Go," Hamish cheered determinedly, tugging at the detective's fingers.
"Okay, okay. I'm coming, I promise. Just give me a moment," Sherlock chuckled, releasing his son's fingers and standing up. "All right... Uhh... Do you want any books to bring with you?" he asked, turning around to grab a children's cup for the cab ride.
"No, Daddy..." A pause. "'Es, Daddy. Hen an' ducky," Hamish called, bouncing up and down as he toddled around the flat in excitement.
"Little Red Hen and the Ugly Duckling. Good... Hamish, please don't run near the stairs, the gate is not—" The detective was cut off by a loud crash followed by a tiny whimper. "Hamish!" Sherlock called worriedly, coat billowing behind him as he ran towards the stairs. "Hamish, are you all right?" he cried, upon seeing the little boy in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the stairs.
"Oh. 'Es, Daddy," Hamish said confusedly, pushing himself up off of the ground and then wincing as he tried to use his arm. "Ouch, Daddy," he whimpered just as the detective reached him.
"Shh, I know. Let me see it," Sherlock whispered, crouching down by the little boy. "What hurts?"
Lips pulled into a frown, Hamish pointed to his elbow, staring up at his father with teary, expectant eyes.
"Your elbow, hmm?" With tender fingers, Sherlock slowly lifted his son's arm up, inspecting the damage. He sighed in relief as he saw that there was just a small red patch on the little boy's arm; the skin hadn't even broken from the fall. "You're okay," he murmured, pulling Hamish into his arms. "And you're sure nothing else hurts? Just your elbow?"
"'Es, Daddy. Hame 'kay," the little boy reassured cheerfully.
"Good. I'm sorry," Sherlock apologized quietly, staring guiltily at the red on his son's skin. "It's my fault, Hamish. I should have remembered to put the gate back up. I'm sorry you fell down... Are you sure you're all right?"
"Mmm," the little boy thought for a moment, grabbing ahold of the collar on the detective's coat. "Kiss?" he asked hopefully, already moving his elbow towards his father.
"Of course. I'll give it a kiss to make it better." Not wanting to hurt his son further, Sherlock leaned forward, barely pressing his lips to Hamish's skin. "There we go," he murmured, pulling back. "Better?"
The little boy grinned, bending up to press a kiss of his own to the corner of Sherlock's lips. "'Es, Daddy. 'Etter."
"Good. I'm glad... Well. I do believe we're ready to go. What do you say? Would you like to go meet Molly's baby?"
"Oh! 'Es, Daddy!" Hamish called happily, remembering once again where they were going.
"Excellent."
Hamish sat comfortably on Sherlock's lap throughout the entire cab ride, sucking happily at his cup of water as he leaned against the detective's stomach, eyes threatening to fall shut at any moment.
"Just a few more minutes," Sherlock reassured, giving Hamish's middle a gentle squeeze.
"Mmmkay, Daddy.
Shortly after arriving at the hospital, Sherlock managed to find Molly's room. There were three chairs set up outside of the door, two of which were seating John and Mycroft.
"Oh," the detective sighed upon seeing his brother. He gently placed Hamish on the ground, allowing him to run over to his uncle.
"My!" he called excitedly, reaching his chubby arms up towards him.
"Yes," Mycroft chuckled, placing his umbrella against the wall as he bent down to pick the giggling boy up. "Hello, Hamish. How have we been, hmm?"
"Hame an' Daddy good!" Hamish called excitedly, grabbing onto his uncle's tie.
"Shh," both Sherlock and Mycroft chuckled at the same time.
"We must be quiet here," Mycroft said quietly, putting a finger to his lips to show the little boy to be quiet. "Okay?"
"Oh," Hamish whispered almost guiltily. "'Kay, My... Seep?"
"Umm, I don't quite—" Mycroft began, unsure of what the little boy was asking.
"He's asking if you're sleepy," Sherlock translated, giving his son a warm smile.
"Ta, Daddy. 'Es, My."
"No, I'm not sleepy," Mycroft chuckled, moving Hamish to his hip as he started to walk down the hallway, giving his brother and John some time alone. "Why? Are you sleepy?" The faint response of the little boy's tiny voice could just barely be heard as Mycroft disappeared further down the hallway.
Sherlock watched after them with fond eyes, taking little notice when John hurried up beside him.
"Well," the doctor sighed, glancing at the closed door. "Mary's in there with her right now. As far as I know, everything's going well but—"
"I told him, John."
The doctor froze, turning his attention to the detective standing next to him. "Oh," he sighed eventually in realization, face sliding into an expression of understanding. "How'd he take it?"
Sherlock stared at the ground, grey eyes guilty and embarrassed. "He... He thought I wouldn't love him anymore, John... He thought I wouldn't love him. Am I doing something wrong?" the detective asked, now suddenly frantic. "I must not have done enough if he actually thought I wouldn't love him anymore just because he doesn't share my DNA. Should I have done more to show him how much I love him? Because I do, John. I love him with all of my heart, it's just... I—I just—Wonder if maybe he wouldn't have been better someplace else with—"
"Sherlock! No. No. You know that's not true. I mean, have you seen how happy that little boy is? He knows you love him, Sherlock. Trust me... He knows how much you love him. And nothing, from the way he looks to the blood in his veins is going to change that... And he knows that, Sherlock... And don't you dare think for one second that that beautiful little boy could possibly be happier anywhere else. Blood-related or not, he is your son. And nothing is ever going to change that."
Sherlock was stunned into silence. Mouth hanging open and eyes nearly filling with tears, the detective stared at his flat mate, gratefulness welling in his eyes. John, himself, had also been stunned into silence, amazed at his own outburst. "Sorry," he mumbled awkwardly.
"No," Sherlock breathed, smiling as he ran John's words through his head. "Thank you, John... Very much... That uhh... Was good."
"Good," the doctor echoed, a small smile playing on his lips. "Thank you... I just uhh... Yes well—" John was interrupted by the sound of the door opening behind him. Both flat mates turned around to see Mary, a wide grin on her face. "It's a girl," she breathed excitedly, hurrying forward to wrap her arms around John's shoulders. "She did so well, John."
"And everything is good, I assume?" the doctor asked, planting a quick kiss to his fiancé's cheek.
"Yes," Mary sighed thankfully. "Everything's wonderful. They're just cleaning both of them up right now and then you can go in. Oh! Hello Sherlock! Where's Hamish gone?" she asked, glancing up and down the hallway.
"Oh, uhh, Mycroft's taken him for a moment," Sherlock informed, giving Mary a small smile.
"Oh. Right, good."
"Speaking of," John murmured, as the sound of Hamish's tiny voice came back into earshot. All three turned to gaze at the end of the corridor and saw Mycroft, walking hand in hand with Hamish down the hallway.
"Really? Is that so?" Mycroft chuckled, gazing down at his nephew.
"Mmm-hmm. An'—Daddy!" the little boy cried excitedly upon seeing his father. Grinning and giggling, Hamish ran down the length of the hallway, jumping into his father's open arms. "Molly baby?" he asked hopefully, tiny hands curling around the soft fabric of Sherlock coat.
"Yes," Sherlock whispered, smiling down at his son. "Molly had a baby girl."
Hamish's eyes widened in awe, mouthing falling open as he stared wide-eyed at Sherlock. "Real?"
"Really, really," the detective chuckled, running his fingertips over Hamish's back. "Would you like to see her?"
"Hame see?" the little boy asked incredulously, a tiny smile pulling at the corners of his lips as he stared into Sherlock's eyes.
"Of course. As soon as Mary gives us the okay."
"I think you'd be fine going in now," Mary said quietly, giving Hamish a warm smile. "Have fun," she added, leaning forward to brush a thumb over the little boy's chubby cheek.
Smiling at the anticipation on his son's face, Sherlock gently pushed past John and Mary, who were still embracing, moved Hamish to his hip, and opened the door with his free hand. "Now we have to be very quiet," he whispered, raising an eyebrow at his son to make sure he understood.
"'Es, Daddy."
"Good." With a small smile, Sherlock pushed open the door to Molly's room. There were a few nurses milling about in the white room, all hurrying in different directions. The detective paused once he saw the pathologist, curled up on the bed, a tiny bundle wrapped in pink resting on her chest.
The detective turned his gaze to Hamish, chuckling as he saw how overwhelmed his son looked. "Hamish?" he whispered, pulling the little boy's attention back to him, though it was clear he was having a hard time focusing with all of the movement around him.
"Hmm?" Hamish asked, gazing over Sherlock's shoulder while he stared at the door.
"Look over there," Sherlock murmured, pointing in the direction of Molly and her new baby.
"Ohh," Hamish sighed in wonder upon catching a sight of the tiny bundle pressed against her chest. Clearly too amazed to speak, the little boy just tugged at the collar of Sherlock's shirt, silently telling him to move closer.
Upon hearing the movement and voices, Molly looked up, a content smile on her face. "Oh," she sighed happily upon seeing Sherlock and Hamish. "Hello there, Hamish," she whispered, giving a tiny wave to the little boy and a warm smile to his father. "Would you like to see her?"
"'Es! 'Ease, Daddy!" Hamish called quietly, pulling at his father's coat.
"Okay, okay," Sherlock chuckled, placing his son on the ground. A small smile on his lips, the detective turned to Molly. "How would you like to do this?" he asked quietly, staring at her with expectant eyes.
"Why don't you just hold her, and then you can kneel down and let him see her?" the pathologist suggested quietly.
"Oh... Well—I'm not—I mean are you sure you want me to—"
"Of course, Sherlock," Molly chuckled, already passing the tiny baby to the detective.
"Yes, right... Okay..." With carefully, albeit nervous, hands, Sherlock gently took the resting baby from Molly's arms. He gazed down at he for a moment, trying to imagine what Hamish might have looked like right after he was born. He couldn't help but smile as he stared down at the sleeping bundle in his hands, noticing how, already, though pink and kind of squishy-looking, the little girl was going to grow up to look very similar to her mother.
"Okay," Sherlock sighed quietly, slowly lowering onto the ground. "Hamish," he whispered, pulling the little boy's attention back to him once again.
"Oh!" Hamish gasped upon seeing Molly's newborn in his father's hands.
"Shh, Hamish. Slow and gentle," Sherlock reminded, giving his son a warm smile.
"'Es, Daddy," the little boy whispered, tiptoeing over to his father, eyes desperately trying to get a look at the infant.
"It's okay, Hamish," Sherlock encouraged, slowly moving his hands forward and down so Hamish could see better. "Do you see?" he whispered, holding the baby in front of his son's observant eyes.
Seeing the little baby for the first time, Hamish gasped, leaning forward to wrap his tiny hands around Sherlock's wrist. "Wow, Daddy," he whispered in utter amazement, gazing down at the little baby in his father's hand. Mouth hanging open the little boy slowly reached forward with single, chubby finger, and brushed it over the little girl's cheek, barely touching the skin. "Wow..." he whispered again, staring in amazement at the tiny human being.
"Yes," Sherlock echoed, gaze traveling between the baby girl in his arms and Hamish, smiling at the pure amazement and happiness on his son's face.
"Daddy?"
"Yes, Hamish?"
"Want."
Neither Sherlock nor Molly could stop their laughter. "You want a baby of your own?" Sherlock chuckled, gazing into his son's awe-struck eyes.
"'Es, Daddy," Hamish responded, deep green irises still glued to Molly's daughter. "Want."
"Well," Sherlock sighed, standing up and gently passing the baby back to her mother. "I'll be getting right on that, then," he chuckled.
"'Es, Daddy!" Hamish cheered triumphantly, reaching up towards his father. "'Ease," he added hurriedly, tugging at the detective's trousers.
"All right," Sherlock murmured fondly, bending down to pick the little boy up. "You did a very good job being gentle with Aunt Molly's baby," the detective said quietly, giving his son a warm, reassuring smile. "Come on, then... Let's say one last goodbye to Aunt Molly and her baby and then we need to head home; you've been up far too long tonight."
"Oh... 'Kay, Daddy," Hamish sighed sadly.
"Very good. Thank you Hamish. All right... Say bye to Aunt Molly and her baby," Sherlock encouraged quietly, bending down so the little boy could see the baby's face once again.
"B-bye Baby," Hamish whispered, leaning forward in his father's arms to press a soft kiss to the little girl's forehead. "Good... B-bye Molly. 'Ove."
Despite her tiredness, Molly smiled warmly at Hamish. "Bye, darling. I love you, too," she whispered, giving the little boy a tiny wave. "I'll see you two later," she said, though it was more to Sherlock than to Hamish.
"Of course," the detective whispered, taking one last glance at Molly's baby. "Congratulations."
"Thank you, Sherlock," Molly replied quietly, giving Sherlock a small smile.
"Of course," the detective murmured, returning the friendly smile. "We'll probably be back later today after Hamish has gotten a proper amount of sleep."
"Mmm," Molly sighed in reply, gazing down at her own baby.
With another quick smile, Sherlock quickly slipped out of the room.
Hamish fell asleep on the cab ride back to 221B, a small smile on his lips as he was no doubt dreaming or thinking about Molly's baby.
Smiling down at his son, Sherlock quickly made his way into the flat, collapsing onto his bed as the lack of sleep started to catch up with him.
"Daddy?" Hamish asked groggily, having awoken at the jostling.
"Nothing," Sherlock murmured, tenderly running his knuckles over the little boy's cheek. "Sorry I woke you..."
"Mmm. Like baby," Hamish sighed contently, snuggling into his father's warmth.
"Yes... I know," the detective murmured lovingly, eyes feeling heavy as he gazed down at his son.
"Daddy wan'?" Hamish asked quietly, fighting his tiredness.
"Do I want another baby?"
The little boy paused, taking a moment to yawn widely before continuing. "'Es. Daddy want?"
"... No," Sherlock whispered eventually, pressing a soft kiss to Hamish's curls. "I like having just one baby... My one Hamish."
"Mmm," the little boy sighed contently, a small smile gracing his lips as his eyes slid shut. "'Kay, Daddy," he whispered, leaning into his father as he fell asleep.
That familiar warmth spreading through his body, Sherlock pulled Hamish's tiny form closer, closing his eyes as the last bit of energy escaped. "My Hamish."
