Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or anything.
Author's note: Please review! Thank you!
Sherlock looked over at Hamish who was sat watching cbeebies with his thumb in his mouth, very content.
"John?" Sherlock asked as John came to sit on the arm of the chair Sherlock was on.
"Mhmm?" John asked.
"Remember when we said that when he's four we'd stop him from sucking his thumb?" Sherlock asked.
"Yes. It doesn't have to be four. Five or six are okay too, but seven is when he must stop in my opinion." John said.
"Oh, that may be true. But I think you just think he's cute." Sherlock smirked.
"He gets a lot of comfort from it. I think I'll find it hard to take that away from him." John admitted.
"Hamish?" Sherlock called to his son.
"Dadda?" Hamish asked.
Sherlock stood up and sat next to his son on the sofa.
"I think you're a bit too old to be sucking your thumb now." Sherlock said carefully but firmly.
Hamish held his thumb to his chest in defence.
"No." Hamish's bottom lip quivered.
"Daddy?" Hamish turned to John.
John bit his lip, then walked over and sat on the other side of Hamish.
"I'm sorry, Hamish. You're four now, you're a big boy. You shouldn't be sucking your thumb." John said a lot more gently them Sherlock did.
Hamish burst into tears and ran upstairs to his room.
John sighed and followed his son upstairs, Sherlock followed soon after.
John opened his son's bedroom door to find him buried under the covers and whimpering.
John sat down on the bed and pulled back the covers to see his son with his thumb in his mouth.
"Hamish, you need to stop. I'm sorry. It really is what's best." John said and ran his fingers through his hair.
Hamish shook his head "But I want to suck my thumb." Hamish said shakily.
"I know." Sherlock said from the doorway and then sat next to John.
"Please." Hamish said, giving them the ultimate puppy eyes.
"I'm sorry, Hay, it's for the best." John said.
"I don't like you!" Hamish shouted, threw his covers off and ran downstairs.
Sherlock and John followed and found Hamish clinging onto Lestrade's leg and bawling away, his thumb was defiantly in his mouth.
Other yarders who had come were confused.
"Un-cle… Greg… dey wan' me to not suck my thumb!" Hamish cried.
Lestrade frowned "That's okay. No need to cry about it." Lestrade picked him up.
"Hamish, this is for you." John said honestly.
"No!" Hamish cried.
"I guess, you're too busy to give us a hand with this case, then." Lestrade said.
"A bit." John nodded.
"Sorry. We'll go." Lestrade said, said goodbye to Hamish, and passed him to John.
Once they had left Hamish was just whimpering.
"Pwease." He said desperately.
John sighed and said "Okay. For now." He added "I need to talk to dadda now. I'm sorry you got so upset. We're just trying to help."
He put Hamish on the sofa and pulled Sherlock into their bedroom "What are we going to do? He's desperate. He hates the notion of not being allowed to suck his thumb." John said.
"He needs to stop. I heard that some people put a nasty tasting solution on the fingers, so every time they put them in their mouth they take them out. We could try that." Sherlock suggested.
"It does sound like it could work. I think they sell it at the chemist. Let's just leave it for a week or two. We'll introduce the idea to him slowly, little mentions of it. Then show him the substance and maybe he won't react as badly." John explained.
Sherlock nodded.
Hamish appeared in their doorway, cheeks flushed from his tears.
"I'm sorry I said I don't like you. I didn't mean it." Hamish said honestly.
John knelt in front of Hamish "It's fine, Hamish." And he pulled Hamish into his arms and gave him a comforting hug.