This story is not dead! If I ever decide to quit before the end (which I don't intend) I will let you know :)

38. Hamish

"Remember when you told me you were pregnant?"

John was nestled next to Mary in her hospital bed with his head on her shoulder and his eyes on his new born child. Hamish was contently sleeping in his mother's arms, and Mary had her eyes closed but only because the feeling of her two favourite people against her was so lovely.

"Of course I do. You cried", she said, smiling.

John chuckled and kissed her neck. After a while he said "Thank you… for giving me this".

"Pleasure's all mine, my dear. And the pain, by the way."

John winced. It had been a long delivery and even though he'd witnessed quite a few in his life he still couldn't quite imagine the pain.

"Completely worth it though", she said.

John lifted his head and Mary kissed him.

"Sorry I…"

They both looked up at the sound and caught sight of a black coat bouncing back into the corridor.

A mumbled "I'll come back in a week or so", could be heard from outside.

"Sherlock, get back in here" John said as he sat up.

Sherlock stepped back inside but looked at them wearily, obviously uncomfortable with the intimacy he just witnessed. John noticed he'd made an effort to appear as normal as possible, clean-shaven and his hair tidy. However John could see the rough night in his red eyes and tense shoulders. His sleeve was still rolled up from when Molly had taken blood samples (quite a few of them, as instructed). She'd given him a blue band-aid, which he was distractedly picking at.

John knew very well that Sherlock wasn't fine like he said he was having a lot of difficulty coping with his continuous exclusion from Scotland Yard, the unsolved Moriarty case, and the fact that he and Mary were starting a family. It bothered John to see his friend like this, but it couldn't dim his mood today. Besides, he and Mary had hatched a little plan.

Mary beckoned him to her with her head. "Here."

Sherlock laid his coat over the top of a chair and approached them. She checked that Hamish' face could be seen clearly in the bundle of blankets.

"This is Hamish."

Sherlock stared blankly.

"Hm…"

"What do you think?" she said in a serious tone.

Sherlock frowned and lifted the blanket a bit from Hamish' head with one finger.

"Looks a bit… red. And bald."

"I know. I'm thinking of returning him."

Sherlock's eyebrows shot up, but when he saw Mary's grin he rolled his eyes.

"Well, it seems healthy. John?"

John smiled.

"He's very healthy, and the redness will fade."

Sherlock stepped back again, bouncing a little on his heels.

"Good. Congratulations. I will leave you to-"

"Oh no no no please don't leave yet", Mary protested. "I'm dying to take a shower and John really needs a coffee. Would you be a dear and just keep an eye on Hamish for a few minutes?"

Sherlock took a step back towards the door. "I shall get you some coffee."

"No, please Sherlock" John cut in "I need to stretch my legs and get out for a bit. Have a seat. Here." He patted the chair closest to the bed.

Eyes flicking from left to right in a moment's hesitation. "Alright."

Sherlock sat down gingerly in the chair his friend pointed at. John carefully carried Hamish from Mary's arms to Sherlock, whose eyes widened at the realization of actually having to hold the child.

"You didn't say-"

But John pressed Hamish to Sherlock's chest.

"Here, be careful to support his head." He stepped back.

"But…"

It was clear from Sherlock's inability to talk his way out of this how tired he was.

"It'll only be 10 minutes Sherlock. I'm close by. Thank you so much", said Mary, who eased herself down from the bed and disappeared into the small bathroom.

With Hamish' head securely resting in the crook of Sherlock's right arm and his body on his left, John stroked his head.

"Thanks mate."

And then John was gone. And Sherlock was alone with a baby.

A tiny, sleeping baby.

Its eyes were squeezed shut and it was breathing peacefully. It was a warm weight in Sherlock's arms.

After the first few anxious minutes waiting for Hamish to realize he was in the arms of a completely incompetent adult and would start to scream, Sherlock slowly relaxed. He sat back in his chair, held the baby closely to him and waited for Mary or John to return, whoever was done first.

His thoughts drifted off to the night before. He didn't understand what Mycroft and Lestrade were so upset about. He hadn't used after all, and drinking was his own business. Yes, maybe getting off with a stranger without using protection wasn't the best idea, but the guy seemed healthy enough… and anyway, if he had caught something, he would just take whatever pills would make it go away. Nothing to worry about. Absolutely nothing for them to worry about. Annoyingly he could feel a flicker of anxiety in his abdomen.

In his arms, the little one had started to stir, making soft squeaky noises.

Sherlock looked down, straight into two bright blue eyes observing him.

When John returned to the room about 15 minutes later with two steaming cups, he found Sherlock staring in concentration at Hamish. He had his feet on the metal edge of Mary's hospital bed, and the baby was lying back on the top of his thighs, making content noises.

When Sherlock noticed him, he held up his right hand a few inches, showing him the tight grasp Hamish had on his little finger.

"Look".

"I see he already likes you", John said, smiling. He sat down next to Sherlock but didn't make a move to take Hamish back, just enjoyed his coffee.

Then Mary opened the door of the bathroom. The lock opened with a loud clicking sound and Hamish flung his little arms out in a startled reflex and started to cry.

"Oh". Sherlock lifted Hamish to his chest protectively, with both hands supporting his little body.

"Was that me? Sorry!" Mary said as she walked back to the bed, looking clean and fresh. She also did not make a move to take Hamish back, so Sherlock held him. By now he was completely relaxed and Hamish settled down again.

"How was it?"

"Fine. He's surprisingly good company for someone whose mind is pretty much blank. I have good hopes that he might not grow up to be an idiot."

"I'm glad you like him. And I feel so much better after that shower."

"You know you should keep track of his developments to make sure he's progressing properly", Sherlock said thoughtfully.

"They have specialized doctors for this Sherlock" John said.

"I'm sure they have, but you are not going to rely on them are you? We could use my microscope to examine samples of his-"

"I don't think that's necessary my dear", Mary said, smiling. She shared a meaningful look with John that Sherlock completely missed because he was trying too look up Hamish little nose.

"Speaking of samples, did you keep the placenta?"

"Sherlock!"

He looked up at John's exclamation. "Not good?"

"Not good."

"Oh."

Hamish had fallen asleep once more against Sherlock's chest. He didn't seem to mind at all.

Mary was back in bed and John cleared his throat. "Sherlock, there is something Mary and I want to ask you."

"Hm?" Sherlock looked up once again.

John sought Mary's gaze for a moment and cleared his throat.

"We would like you to be Hamish's official guardian."

Sherlock's eyes grew bigger. "Wh…uhm… how do you mean?"

"We would like for you to be involved in his life, as you would naturally be, but we also want you to be his guardian, in the event something were to happen to us. It would be included in our will."

"But… I'm…" Sherlock let out a breath. "I'm the most irresponsible person you know."

"You know that's not true." John opposed.

"I didn't even think you would let me hold it… him."

"Oh Sherlock", Mary said. "Of course we would."

John shifted in his seat, placed a hand on Sherlock's elbow, and waited till Sherlock met his gaze "You're my best friend, remember? I would trust you with my life, and with that of my son."

"John! I drink! I don't know how to eat properly. I'm self-destructive!"

"You have been the most responsible, patient, and respectful mentor to my pupils, and you've never done anything self-destructive while they were in your care."

Rubbing the bridge of his nose with his free hand, Sherlock went on.

"I have sex with strangers."

"Also something you would never do while Hamish is in your care, would you?"

"Of course not!"

"There you go."

"But… what if I'm… last night I… it might."

John fumbled in his pocket and took out a piece of paper and handed it to Sherlock.

"It didn't. Molly already examined your blood. It's fine, except for some iron deficiency, easily be fixed by eating a bit more meat and vegetables."

"You read it." Sherlock stated blankly.

John's expression turned a bit defensive. "Of course I did. Just like you and your brother have read my complete medical history file and my army records."

Sherlock huffed but read the results, Hamish still comfortably sleeping in the crook of his arm. Indeed his test results were surprisingly good, all considering. Nothing a hearty meal from Mrs. Hudson couldn't fix.

John went on. "Neither Mary or I have family and out of our friends we trust you the most. We don't expect you to know exactly how to care for a baby, or how to raise a child. We don't even expect you to take any responsibility as long as we are here. The only thing we want from you is to be there, to get to know him, and to learn bloody fast in case we stop being able to care for him."

"And you are certain you would want me to be the sole carer of your child" Sherlock stated with a furrowed brow.

"Yes. But if you don't want to, we fully respect y-"

"No I…that sounds… reasonable. Besides, you cannot possibly trust anyone else to provide him with adequate protection."

John grinned, "Good". Then his smile disappeared "And if you're ever drunk, high, or having sex with strangers while Hamish is in your care, I will come back to haunt you, Sherlock Holmes."

The corner of Sherlock's mouth twitched.

"I could teach him the science of deduction."

"I'm sure he will be delighted."

"And after school, I could take him to Bart's, if Molly-"

"Absolutely no chance."

Sherlock wouldn't admit it to anyone, but the fact that John and Mary had invited him into their family and given him so much trust sparked a renewed lust for life in him. After the hospital he went home, took a shower, ate the caloric meal Mrs. Hudson brought up for him, and slept until the next morning. In the following week he did some research on babies and childrearing and pestered John and Mary about optimizing early brain development.

At school he used Mary's biology class to teach the pupils about brain development from the womb to adulthood, and dealt with their eager questions in his own Sherlockian manner.

It was Thursday morning and the pupils had been listening raptly to him for 20 minutes, longer than they were usually able to keep quiet.

"Did Mary have her baby, then?" Lucy asked when he left a pause.

"Mrs. Watson. And yes, she did, last week. We'll now move to the next hand-out I gave you on cognitive development in toddlers."

"Is it a boy or a girl?"

"A boy. Although I don't see how that's relevant. Now read the hand-out in front of you and-"

"How is she doing?" Rose interrupted.

"Oh uhm… fine I guess. Can you stop being annoying and get back to the subject please? Thanks."

"But sir! We want to know about the baby. Did you visit?"

Accompanying an exasperated sigh with an eye roll, Sherlock leaned against his desk and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"If you think information about Mr. and Mrs. Watson's child is more useful to you than brain development, fine. It's small, round, pink, fits the definition of cute, and is incapable of anything other than eating, crying, and defecating. Try and use that information answering your exam questions three weeks from now."

"What's his name?" Emma asked, undisturbed by Sherlock's annoyance.

"Hamish. Mr. Watson's middle name. Don't tell him I told you."

"Do they let you near him?"

Anthony's question was met with giggles from his peers, but their teacher was not paying attention. Sherlock was looking at the door where, once again, Olivia's frame was visible, waiting to go inside but hesitant to knock and draw attention to herself.

Opening the door, the class now silent, Sherlock let a sharped gaze take in her appearance.

Upset but trying to hide it. Uniform not ironed today. No morning shower either. Biting her thumbnail and resolutely not meeting his gaze.

"Take a seat", he said, stepping aside.

Admittedly, he wouldn't have let any other pupil get away with being 30 minutes late, especially as it was the second time in as many weeks, but it felt wrong to be hard on her. Even though she infuriatingly refused to provide any information about her personal life, he still believed something was wrong.

Without a word or glance she walked to the middle of the classroom and sat down next to Rose and kept her gaze on her desk from then on.

As soon as the pupils had his attention back, more questions came.

"When is Mr. Watson coming back to school?"

Sherlock sighed. "I don't know, but probably too soon for his own good."

As it turned out, John was back two weeks later, looking like he'd been to hell and back. Little Hamish was not much of a sleeper, as it turned out.

He and Sherlock were in Sherlock's office to discuss his mentor pupils and their marks. It was two days since his return and John was already weary of his own office, where Ms. Stevenson was overgenerous with health and parenting advice, and Sally Donovan took every opportunity to complain about the state of the school's administrative records. Honestly it was a bit of a mess, but he just couldn't deal with it right now. Therefore Sherlock's cramped office space was a welcome cocoon of peace and quiet, save from the man himself, providing a minimal summary of the behaviour and progress of each of his mentees.

Sherlock was sitting in his chair with his feet up on his desk. A folder, containing an actual written report, rested in his lap.

"Billy is doing well considering his mother is struggling to make ends meet and has started working evenings. I believe having the company of Peter as opposed to Eric and his pets has greatly enhanced his eagerness to learn. His marks have gone up with an average of 10% over the past 3 months".

John nodded approvingly.

"Emma has improved her attendance in class, but is still stuck on the death of her father." Seeing John raise an eyebrow, he added "…which is completely understandable."

"Her marks are on the low side for someone with her IQ level, but that's due mostly to the amount of weed she has been smoking lately."

John frowned. "Have you asked her about it?"

"I have. She claims the amount she consumes is negligible, but I've told her I'd give Lestrade a call if I notice she continues."

"Oh come on. That's way too drastic. You should always call the mother first. As if a detective inspector would be interested in such a thing."

"That's exactly what she said. Apparently she's sharp enough to see through my threat, so maybe there's not much to worry about."

"Just keep an eye on her. Ask if she wants to speak to a counsellor."

Sherlock made a face of distaste, but didn't protest.

When they were done John convinced Sherlock to join him for lunch in the cafeteria. As Sherlock was locking his office, John spotted Olivia standing at the end of the corridor. The afternoon light lit up her face and it was clear she had not expected John to be there. She stood there frozen for a moment, her hands clutching at her schoolbag as other pupils passed her on their way downstairs. When Sherlock turned and saw her, he immediately said her name. This seemed to snap her out of her head and she took a few steps back, before turning and walking away.

"Have you spoken to her recently?"

Sherlock tapped his keys in his palm. "Not after confronting her about failing. She seems to be paying more attention in class, but she's been late a few times recently."

"Really? Richard didn't mention that when I asked about her yesterday."

"Well, I'd tell you he's a criminal, but I can't prove it so what's the point" Sherlock said tersely, before striding off.

"John, how delightful to hear from you", sounded the cold voice of Mycroft Holmes.

"Mycroft. I have a favour to ask."

"If it's for my little brother I'm afraid I must decline. He's been quite a nuisance lately and I refuse to let him think there are no consequences to his actions."

"How pedagogical of you. But I'm not asking for Sherlock, I'm asking for me."

"In that case, fire away."

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, John fired away.

"I need everything there is to know about Richard Brook, who is currently under my employment, and Sebastian Moran, employed by Social Services and assigned to the household of Jeremy and Olivia Edwards."