AN: Sorry for the lack of update in a week, I deleted half of this and ended up rewriting it.
John's taken Hamish out to the park, he's been teaching him various sports lately-hand eye coordination stuff- and Hai seems to be particularly fond of tennis so far (though it's not really tennis, the bats are tiny and have a Velcro surface for the ball to stick-it's just hitting the ball with the bats, but Hamish refers to it like that) so that's what they're doing today.
And then there's why I asked him to go out in the first place, he would have agreed anyway-this was their usual Sunday activity- but it was important right now that John wasn't around. This is only half a surprise really, seen as knows something's going on, actually he's likely to know the whole thing, but that doesn't matter. John was surprised this morning, so that's something.
Cooking. That's it. It shouldn't even count as some big change, and I should really do it more often but it's boring and I usually have much more interesting things to do and we're fine with takeaways or eating out (or Mrs Hudson cooks something, Hamish usually has something healthier). Anyway, cooking isn't really anything that hard, you apply science to it and balance the foods as if they were chemicals, your objective being to get something that tastes good rather than chemical reaction.
Tonight, I'm grilling steaks, making chips, and a cake. Perhaps I should have done the cake earlier, Mrs Hudson was commenting on the lack of one this morning, and John looked a little upset but of course she was in on the plan. She gave me all the recipes. Which means when John comes back early, she'll send him off to the pub where Mike is waiting and bring Hamish up to me. The pub wasn't originally planned, but Hamish really wanted to decorate the cake.
I take the steaks from the fridge- which had been placed in a box labelled 'dog spleens'-and get out the meat tenderiser and hit at it. This is pretty interesting, the affect the mallet has on the meat, I think I'll ask Molly to try it out on a body from the mourge tomorrow. When that's done, I mix measured quantities of spices and coat the meat, then wrap it up so I can cook it later. The chips are hardly work at all, but this way is better than buying them, I can get each to the same size. I don't know why this cooking thing is supposed to be such a talent, it's perfectly easy with a recipe and if you use a scientific method.
With that done, I take the steaks back out, tenderise them again and add different spices. Next, we're onto the cake. It started raining just as I'd found the chip fryer and left the potatoes in it, which meant Hamish would be here even sooner. Thankfully, they both left with coats on so John won't need to come up and dry off. I run down and pass an umbrella to Mrs Hudson, looking at the rain pattern the one he took out with him in his pocket will have broken in the wind, so he'll insist on coming to get a second.
I'm only just back upstairs when John opens the door, Hamish in his arms. I duck into the door and then hear Mrs Hudson pop out, persuading him into leaving again. He argues a little more than expected, and I hear Hamish groan a little and it seems that he's now being carried by Mrs Hudson instead. Why is that needed? The door shuts and she attempts the stairs, her walking pattern different under Hamish's weight. Her hip's playing up again so this is even more unnecessary I leave the dry ingredients of the cake mix and go down to help her.
"Oh Sherlock, dear. Are you alright to get Hamish from me? He's a bit heavy now and-" I'm already down, I hadn't seen from my angle before, but Hamish is holding his leg right out, not letting it touch her body. I take him immediately.
He's fallen- and not on the softer court either, looking at the stain on his light trousers, he fell on the uneven path near the swings. "Does it hurt, Hai?" I balance him on a hip and roll up the linen trousers, Hamish whimpers as brushers against the injury. He's scraped all the way up his shin, a deeper cut on the knee. The question was obvious, but his reaction would detail how well he was coping, and if I had to give him medication. "Yes" Hamish says, burying his face in my shirt. His voice is quiet, but as we go upstairs his legs hit against my body, and he whimpers a little but doesn't moan too much, "Are we making cake?" Ah, good, he can focus on other things already. He'll be fine, I'll just clean the cut, give him a plaster and he won't be too bad. Maybe Calpol later if it still hurts "Yes, I'm nearly done, so we'll cook it then you can but the icing and sweets on". I start on up the stairs, kicking the door open.
"Eat some?" Hamish asks as I sit him on the kitchen table and find John's first aid kit. I take the kit from a high cupboard and run some kitchen roll under the water. "A few. You have your tea to eat." Hamish won't eat the steak, based on the spices, so I'm doing a chicken breast too. "This will sting a bit, Hai. I'll just get the dirt and things off of your leg." I bend down and wipe over the cut, Hamish grabbing hold of the hand still on the table. "You alright?" I smile as I get up, Hamish still holding onto my hand as I throw the kitchen roll away. Hamish nods, biting his lip. I kiss his forehead "You're being really brave, Hai. We've done this but it isn't clean enough." I pick the Savlon spray from the box on the table, and bend down again "This will get all of the dirt out, so your knee doesn't get infected, but it'll hurt. Even more than before" I lift his leg and press my finger to the spray of antiseptic "I'll press it now, try to stay still, okay?"
Hamish looks up at me, tears already in his eyes. "Ow Fa!" he whispers, crying a little.
"We don't want your leg falling off, do we? Though I could use it in and experiment. Nice leg, this" I move my hand lightly around his, tickling behind his knee. Hamish laughs, still teary, pulling his leg away and wincing "No. My leg"
"Alright, alright. You keep it. Come back here, you still need a plaster" Hamish shuffles forward again. "Which plaster?" Hamish has a selection, some with footballs, Dora the Explorer, camouflage ones, Winne the Pooh (oh for god's sake, this is useless, why do I recognise these characters?). "You need two, you can have different ones."
"Dora and army" Hamish says, pointing at the boxes.
"Of course" I apply the plasters, then lift him off the table. "That alright?"
"Ow" Hamish moans as his knee straightens out.
"You'll be fine, you're brave." I pick some trousers from the folded pile of washing on the chair. "Your trousers are all dirty, and you still have your coat on. You change them and watch TV for a while"
"I help" Hamish says, taking his coat off and throwing it on the floor.
"If you want." I move a chair with one hand nearer to the fridge "Climb up there and get me the milk then." At this point, Hamish is halfway through changing his trousers, but is too eager to help to notice they're still stuck at his shoes. "Hamish no" I stop him getting on the chair. "Get these off properly first, silly." I undo his trainers so he pulls the trousers off, passing him the second pair as he sits down. At this point his 'helping' is just taking up more time, but he enjoys it and it's another way for him to learn.
I hold his hand as stands up on the chair, and he takes out the smaller bottle of milk (the one he can pick up properly) and gives it to me, "Thank you, Hamish" I let go and he slides of the chair, "Fridge". Hamish looks up, noticing he'd left the door open. He gets up again, shuts it then attempts to drag the chair back to the table. "Alright, pour these in the bowl" I hand him the eggs I'd beaten while he was at the fridge (that didn't need any focus, I hadn't been looking at them and it was easy enough to turn if Hamish fell) as he stands up and I tell him he can sit on the table if his leg hurts, which he does. We finish off the cake, Hamish doing a lot of the mixing and I put it in the oven.
"That has to cook, I'm gonna clean up…go watch something." I take a cloth from the sink and lift Hamish off the table.
"Then sweets on it?" Hamish is in the living room now, getting out toys.
"It needs to cool before that, and we need to sandwich the sections together with jam and cream, but yes. Clean those up when you're done, please." Hamish sighs and I carry on cleaning. This is easy too. I don't see why people complain so much, then again it's not interesting at all so there is some point behind it.
"Done now?" Hamish comes in, a lego structure in his hand.
"No, it isn't even out of the oven. Why don't you draw Dad a picture for his birthday? To go with his card?"
"I maked him lego" Hamish says, holding up the structure.
"Made." I look at the pieces in his hand, totally unsure of what it is, then read him instead. His Dad's birthday, so something Hamish will think he likes, blues and reds in a striped pattern, then there's the present Hamish already got him. The colours of the lego, plus the tunnel shape of them, a cup. This only takes a second of actually looking at the structure and I smile at him "You made him a cup? That's really nice. But he won't be able to use it, it'll leak"
"Oh" Hamish says disappointed, and puts the lego on the table "On the shelf" Hamish points to the mantelpiece, not full of clay ornaments and other things Hamish has decorated, plus a few photos and John's cards. "Good idea. Are you still going to do a picture?"
"Yep." Hamish grins, then runs upstairs to get his pens.
"What're you going to draw?" I ask, sitting on the sofa behind him when he comes back down, just behind where his lego had been spread on the floor. "Clear up before you start"
"But I-"
"Do it, Hamish" I pass him the empty book and he grumbles but starts filling it. "Alright, do the colours in alphabetical order" there's always some way to teach him.
"I don't know them" Hamish picks up a blue block.
"You do, that's right. Blues first" I encourage and Hamish smiles, when he's done, he picks up another. "Green?"
"Good, Hamish. You do those and I'll take the cake out. What will you be doing after?" I get up, and Hamish picks up a red block. "Yes, you're right. You can spell them, don't doubt yourself"
I but the cake tins on a cooling rack and come back to Hamish onto the white blocks. "You didn't even ask then, and you were still right. What would go first, blue or brown?" I test, Hamish thinks for a second.
"Blue, easy" Maybe it is too simple for him, but he needs to keep practicing.
"Do the yellow then and get on with your picture" I bend down to help him then put the box back in the cupboard. I think about looking at the hair samples above the box's shelf but then realise that it's likely to create mess, and for the next 40 minutes I'll be able to wait.
"What are you going to draw?" I sit on the floor with him, picking up a pen and throwing it in the air, twirling it. Hamish immediately tries to copy and it almost hits him in the face, he laughs though and tries again "Hurry up, we'll have to start the cake soon"
"Oh." Hamish leans over again "I draw today. Dada present, football and cake" Hamish starts on his usual figures, a lot neater than the average 3 year olds.
"He'll love it." I take a piece of paper from him, then draw out the floor plan of a house a few streets away, a man a few houses away is planning to rob it and I want to see how successful he'll be and wonder whether to bother reporting him. I want to see if I get every item he plans to steal first though. When I've done, Hamish is writing his name on the bottom of the sheet and I stand up "I'll but the jam and cream in the cake and mix the icing, what colour do you want?"
"Uhm…Dada likes green"
I walk out and lift the cake halves out, then whipping the cream to the right consistency for the middle of the cake. It doesn't take me long to finish the filling and then mix the icing correctly. "Hamish, your turn" Hamish runs in, picture still in his hand and places it next to his lego.
I lift him to the table again and spread the icing with a knife as he takes sweets from a few packets I'd laid out. Hamish places each on carefully as soon as I'm done, and I see that he's trying to form a certain pattern.
I smile at him "Hai, it should really read 'John' not D-" he looks up at me, upset but inquisitive.
"Nothing, it's perfect" I rest a hand on his back, he's moving closer to the edge of the table. He finishes his letters and then adds chocolates around the edges of the cake, and tells me he's done.
"That looks fantastic. We'll put it in the fridge now, Dad'll be home in 4 minutes" I'd put Hamish's chicken in the oven while he was still colouring, and I take the steaks out and put them under the grill now.
Hamish gets off the table and goes straight to the window to wait. He shouts out when John appears in his line of vision. "I go to the door?" he asks, halfway across the room.
"Meet him downstairs, yeah. But don't tell him about dinner yet. Surprise, you know?"
"Yes Fa" Hamish says, already out of the door. I hear John greet him, then step out onto the landing to hear the conversation properly, John immediately asks Hamish about his leg, then lifts him up and looks at it quickly. "Perfectly fine. Were you brave when Father fixed it?"
"Yes. Go upstairs" Hamish insists, impatient.
"Why, what's happened? I was about to go and see-" John teases, Hamish attempting to slip down and pull him up the stairs.
"No, now."
"Okay, okay. If you're really desperate" John laughs, running up the stairs. I immediately duck back into the flat. I don't think I should have left the steaks like that, but it'll be fine, they didn't burn or overcook.
John come up, Hamish chatting away, telling him about his picture. "What smells so nice?" Hamish giggles and gets down from his arms and runs to the kitchen
"He's here" Hamish giggles and runs out again, taking his drawing and lego to John "Fantastic, Hamish" John says, "I wish I could use it all the time, but we'll keep it special, okay?" John puts it on the shelf, just as Hamish had intended. "And your drawing? Wow, you're so good" John comments on little aspects of it, Hamish chatting animatedly about his work.
He comes into the kitchen and puts it on the fridge immediately, finally turning around to greet me. "You're cooking? Oh god, I really didn't expect this. And steak" he looks into the grill "My favourite, I love it"
"It'll be ready in 3 minutes, we're really only waiting for the chips" I indicate the fryer which I'd turned on as I mixed the cream for the cake) "Sit down"
"Very nice" John leans over and kisses my cheek.
The steaks are done at the same time as Hamish's chicken, so we all sit down together "And you're even eating? I really need my birthday to be more than once a year"
Apparently, the steak and chips are some of the best he's ever had, and he says he's almost worried about not having room for desert. Hamish moans at him then "Yes, Dada. We made you special cake"
"Oh, really? I always have room for cake" John sits up again, and my phone rings. Mycroft. I ignore it. I'm sure he's asking for cake, probably ruining his years long diet.
I take the cake from the fridge and light add candles, lighting them with my back to the table. "Blow them out, then"
"You're supposed to sing" John says helpfully, but I stare at him and he laughs "Fine, fine. They sang to me down at the pub anyway. Hamish, want to blow them out for me? You can have my wish, too" Hamish leans forward in excitement, eyes closed.
We're laid in bed later that night, John's head on my chest "Today was brilliant, really. You did everything I could have wanted, and more. You're very caring when you want to be, mainly because you can deduce their exact desires, I guess. But you always get things exactly right for me"
"Not for everyone, and not always. But I do think I did do particularly well today" John chuckles.
"Mmm hmm. Come here" he moves up in the bed, pulling me into a kiss.