Hey guys! Sorry for the wait, but I hope you like this chapter! You all are awesome, thank you so much! As usual, please forgive the mistakes! =P Thanks, everyone! Have a great weekend!
Chapter Fifty: A Day Out
"John… John? Up 'ease. Is Hame. Not is Daddy… Uhm… John?" Hamish whispered loudly, prodding at the doctor's leg with a single finger. When John failed to wake, but rather continued to snore softly, the little boy furrowed his brow and crawled over the doctor's body. "John?" he whispered again, gently tapping said doctor's cheek.
"Mmm."
Hamish gasped slightly when the doctor shifted, accidentally throwing an arm close to his head.
"Hmm… Hamish?" John grumbled, opening his eyes.
"'Es, John. He'o. I is wake."
"Mmm. Yes, I can see that." Groaning as he opened his eyes and stretched a bit, John groggily sat up in the bed, absentmindedly pulling his tiny flat mate onto his lap. "Good morning, little man."
"Morn'ming," Hamish giggled. After settling into John's lap, the little boy attempted to wrap what bit of the covers he could grab around him.
"Here, allow me." With a smile, John wrapped a bit of the stiff blanket around Hamish's smaller body. "Better?"
"'Es. Lots 'etter, John," the little boy giggled, snuggling into the warmth of the covers.
"Good, good." After giving his small flat mate's curls a playful ruffle, the doctor turned to the right, to find Sherlock was still sound asleep, curled into a bit of a ball, with the covers huddled in a little pile behind him. "Hamish?" John asked with a chuckle, "did you end up sleeping with Daddy last night?"
"'Es! Oh." Suddenly the little boy looked quite sheepish.
"What?" chuckled John.
"I is sorry, John."
"For what, Hame?"
Eyes downcast, Hamish mumbled quietly, "Was loud, John… 'An no I was seeping."
"Ahh," John chuckled in understanding. "I snored."
"'Es. Daddy did say." Hamish gave a tiny nod of his head.
"Yes, I see. Well, it's quite understandable, then, that you would choose Daddy over me, hmm?"
Hamish smiled and then released a small sigh of relief. "'Kay, John," he murmured with a nod. "Good now. Is 'etter."
"Well, good. I'm glad to hear it," John laughed. "Now, then. Seeing as your father is still asleep, I say we give you a bath, little man. You haven't one in a long time, hmm?"
"'Es!" Hamish declared proudly, as if such a thing were a great accomplishment. "Long, John."
With a smile, John scooped Hamish into his arms and toted the little boy to the bathroom. Not wanting to wake his flat mate, the doctor shut the door behind him before placing the little boy on the floor. "Right, then. Bathtime!"
Sherlock awoke to the distinct bell-like sounds of his son's laughter leaking out from under the bathroom door. Hearing the splashing sounds that indicated the little boy was getting a bath, Sherlock groggily rolled himself out of the stiff hotel bed and then padded over to the door. The detective smiled when he pressed his ear to the painted wood and heard Hamish animatedly talking to John about something unintelligible. Not wanting to disturb them too much, Sherlock just barely pushed open the door and peeked inside, gaze soft and tender.
"Lots bubbles, John!" Hamish's voice hummed.
"Yes... A bit too much, I'm afraid," the doctor murmured absentmindedly to himself.
Sherlock pushed the door open even further, a smile ghosting over his cupid's bow lips.
"No, John. Can't not have lots much bubbles," Hamish explained matter-of-factly, scooping a pile of them up into his hands and then showing the pile to the doctor, clearly expecting that that explained his reasoning. "See, John? Is 'kay." A delighted gasp. "Daddy! He'o! Is up now!"
"Yes," Sherlock answered, voice low and still rather thick with sleep.
Hamish giggled in delight to himself. "Have bath, Daddy... Oh. Want?" With a smile too innocent to ignore, the little boy held up the pile of bubbles, offering them to the detective.
Sherlock glanced to the little pile of suds and then back to his son's rather precious expression. "Of course I would," he answered, chuckling. A smile on his lips, the detective crossed to the soap-filled bathtub and then crouched down next to his flat mate. When he was sure the doctor was not looking, Sherlock winked playfully at Hamish—earning him a series of lovely giggles—and then held out several slender fingers.
"'Kay... Here go, Daddy." Chewing on his bottom lip, Hamish delicately transferred the pile of bubbles in his own little hands onto his father's much larger fingers. "Good."
"Yes."
"Right," John sighed, attempting to clean up the water that had splashed out of the tub. "We've got a bit of a day ahead of us, so I'm going to go get ourselves ready, then."
"All right." Sherlock gave his flat mate a nod and watched as the doctor exited the bathroom. Realizing he still had the little pile of bubbles in his hands, the detective's lips quirked at the corners as he quickly plopped the suds atop Hamish's head.
"Oh! Daddy!" the small boy laughed, taking some more bubbles in his hands and attempting to toss them at his father.
Sherlock chuckled to himself as he easily caught Hamish's small hands in his own. "Oh, no you don't!" After pressing a playful kiss to the tip of his son's nose, the detective dunked the little boy's soapy hands in the water. "Let's get you washed off, hmm?"
"Mmm. 'Kay, Daddy," Hamish giggled, standing up.
"Thank you." Grabbing a cup, Sherlock quickly rinsed off his son's tiny body, found a towel, and then pulled him out of the water. "Right, then. Time to dry." The detective set his son's towel-clad form on the ground and then carefully and gently rubbed the towel over Hamish's wet form. "There we are," he whispered, brushing a thumb over the scar on his son's collarbone that could barely even been seen anymore. "Good?" he asked, pressing a kiss to the top of the little boy's wet curls.
"'Es, Daddy," Hamish hummed with a precious smile. "Good. Lots."
"Right, then." Sherlock gave the little boy's middle a pat. "Why don't we go get dressed and see what John has planned for us today?"
"'Kay." Hamish waited patiently while his father wrapped the towel around him once again, and as he was lifted into the detecitve's arms and toted out of the bathroom.
"So, then," the detective asked the doctor, who was busy gathering everything for the day. "Where are we going?"
"The zoo?" Sherlock groaned through thin lips.
John merely grinned proudly in response. "Yep! The zoo. This one actually was my idea."
"I'm hardly surprised."
"Come on," the doctor chuckled, gesturing to Hamish, who was practically clinging to Sherlock's leg. "He'll love it."
"We'll see."
John smirked. "There's a train."
"... Possibly."
"Exactly. Here. I'll go pay, you calm him down," John chuckled, gesturing to his tiny, clearly worried flat mate.
"Yes... Oh, dear. Hamish, love, what's the problem?" With a chuckle Sherlock bent down and lifted the little boy into his arms.
"Lots, Daddy," Hamish explained, taking an arm and wrapping it firmly around his father's neck as he settled in closer. "An' is much loud."
"Ah, I see," Sherlock murmured in understanding. "Well..." Attempting to come up with some way to console his son, the detective began to rub a few fingertips up and down the little boy's back. "I suppose there are quite a few people, aren't there?"
"Mmm-hmm," Hamish practically whimpered with a nod of his head.
"Yes. Well... Just try to think about us, today, hmm? It's just the three of us. We don't need to worry about anyone else. So, just... Try to ignore them, I suppose."
Hamish scowled. "Not nice, Daddy," he scolded, though rather half-heartedly, as it was clear he was considering his father's argument.
Sherlock smiled fondly. "There's my boy. And..." A sly smile quirking over the corners of his lips, the detective leaned close and then whispered, "We will be going on a train ride." Sherlock could practically feel Hamish's mood lighten.
"Real, Daddy?" the little boy gasped softly in amazement.
"Really." Knowing Hamish would be fine when he felt the little boy relax in his arms, Sherlock pressed a tender kiss to his son's cheek and then turned, waiting for John to return.
"Tom Tank now, Daddy?" Hamish asked, tugging at his father's fingers.
"No, love, not quite yet. We've not even seen any animals."
"Oh. 'Kay, Daddy... Daddy?"
Sherlock shared a smile with his flat mate. "Yes?"
"Up 'ease?" The little boy patted his legs. "Are tired, Daddy."
Rolling his eyes playfully, Sherlock bent down and hoisted Hamish onto his hip. "Of course. Better?"
"Mmm-hmm. 'Es, Daddy. 'Tank-su."
"You're very welcome. Good manners, love, thank you."
Hamish grinned triumphantly, enjoying the praise.
"Right, then!" John exclaimed, a map in hand. "Where to?"
"Bunnies! John, look, bunnies!"
Sherlock practically dropped Hamish, both from the way the little boy was bouncing excitedly in his arms and the sudden outburst. "Yes, yes, bunnies." The detective quickly released his excited son from his arms, watching in mild confusion when the little boy toddled over to a gate, quite literally bouncing with excitement. "What's he talking about?"
"The petting zoo," John answered with a nod, smiling after his tiny flat mate. "They're holding bunnies. Hamish, just a moment, little man!"
"'Kay, John! I waits here!" the small boy called back, his tiny voice just barely making its way over the sounds of shuffling footsteps.
"Petting zoo?" Sherlock asked in confusion.
After taking ahold of Hamish's hand, and making sure he was secure with them, John turned in confusion to his flat mate. "You've never... Been to a petting zoo?"
"Certainly not," Sherlock answered, somewhat in distaste. "I'm not sure I've ever had an interest to."
"Ah. I... Can't really say that I'm surprised."
"Mmm. You have fun. I'll watch."
"Not come, Daddy?" Hamish asked. Sherlock couldn't help but notice that his son's bouncing had stopped.
"Oh, well..."
"'Ease, Daddy? Has bunnies," Hamish pleaded with a smile, attempting to bargain.
Taking a deep breath, Sherlock pushed his long coat behind him as he crouched down so he was eye-level with the little boy. "You really want me to come in?" he asked, glancing with a rather playful grimace toward the entrance gates to the petting zoo.
"'Es, Daddy. See ah bunnies."
The detective sighed. "All right... But only to see the bunnies," he warned with a raised brow.
Breathing an airy giggle, Hamish took a step forward and wrapped his arms around Sherlock's neck. "Tank-su, Daddy," the little boy whispered delightfully into his father's collar. "'Kay, John." Backing up, Hamish once again took ahold of the doctor's hand, and resumed his excited bouncing.
"Right, then, here we go," John chuckled with a smirk.
"Mmm," Sherlock hummed, placing his hands in his coat pockets.
Led by his very eager little flat mate, John hurried into the children's petting zoo, followed closely by a grumbling Sherlock.
There was a small gasp. "Bunnies! Can go?"
"Of course! Let's go!" Grinning at the pure joy reverberating through every fibre of Hamish's tiny being, John hurried over to a corner of the children's zoo where other young children were holding several rabbits.
"Would you like to hold one, bud?" John asked, taking one from a family that was leaving.
"Oh." Now faced with the reality of the animal so near, Hamish seemed rather frightened of the animal. "Uhh... No, John. I is good. 'Es. 'Kay. Can go now. Saw ah bunnies rabbit. 'Kay."
"You don't want to hold him?" John chuckled.
"Uhm... No?"
The doctor laughed aloud. "Here, how about I help you? Hmm?"
"... 'Kay," Hamish answered, though he still seemed rather weary.
"Good man."
Eventually, after much coaxing and being able to hold his father's hand, Hamish was holding the rabbit and found he was quite content with the situation.
After a quick break for a late lunch, and another return to the petting zoo (as Hamish had apparently decided that he really did like the bunnies), the trio were finally actually looking at the animals in the zoo.
"Now, that, Hamish, is a Bengal Tiger," Sherlock murmured, pointing towards the large animal that was currently sleeping in its enclosure. "And, despite common beliefs..."
John stood back and watched with a fond smile as Hamish listened intently to his father, clinging not only to the detective's jacket, but every bit of information Sherlock was relaying to him. The doctor felt he may never tire of watching the different facial expressions of his tiny flat mate, or the way his small eyebrows would raise just slightly whenever Sherlock would begin speaking. Chuckling to himself, John pulled out his camera and quickly took as many pictures of the situation as he could.
After managing to make it through the reptile house and the aquarium, the trio of flat mates headed into the penguin house, the busiest site so far. Even on Sherlock's hip, there were so many people that Hamish could barely see any of the penguins.
"Can't see, Daddy," the little boy whispered worriedly, giving his father's shoulder a tap.
"Yes, I know," Sherlock answered, quite displeased, as he was wanting Hamish to be able to see as many animals as possible. "Well... Here." Moving carefully, Sherlock took Hamish in his arms, and in one swift, fluid movement, transferred the little boy onto his shoulders. "There. Can you see now, Hamish?" the detective asked. John smiled slightly at the way Sherlock's slender fingers kept Hamish secure.
"'Es, Daddy!" the little boy laughed, having never been up so high. "Is tall here! Must see lots, Daddy."
A smile quirked over the detective's lips. "Yes, I suppose," he chuckled, giving Hamish's knee a tender pat. "Right, then. Point to one and I'll tell you something about it."
"Can do Tank now, Daddy?" Hamish asked. The small boy was still situated atop his father's shoulders and had taken to playing with the detective's thick curls.
"John?"
"Of course we can. We've seen most everything, I think."
"Mmm. Right, then."
"Go on Tank now?" Hamish asked, a hand pausing in Sherlock's hair.
"Yes!" John laughed.
Once finally situated on the train (which just happened to be blue, sending Hamish into an even more excited state) Sherlock and John made sure the little boy was safely situated between the two of them.
And, despite the many different animals that could be seen on the train trip, it was soon discovered that Hamish only cared about the train whistle.
Both Sherlock and John couldn't help but take countless pictures of Hamish's heartwarmingly infectious smile, as each time the whistle would blow, the small boy's face would light up, his dark green eyes would grow greener, and his tiny hands would clap together in pure elation.
After a quick dinner at one of the zoo's restaurants (which mainly consisted of Hamish attempting argue with Sherlock about the detective's choices of food for him), the trio made their way back to the rental car.
Sighing in relief when he noticed that Hamish had all but lost his energy, Sherlock quickly strapped the little boy into his car seat, and started the drive back to the hotel.
"I told you he'd like it," John chuckled from the back seat.
"Mmm. I suppose the day wasn't... Unbearable."
Knowing it would go unseen, John smiled proudly to himself. "Well... If nothing else, at least we'll get to sleep in tomorrow."
"Well, that's an idea. As to whether or not it will actually happen..."
"Fingers crossed."
"Ohh... Come here, little one," Sherlock murmured as he pulled Hamish's sleeping form from the carseat. "Yes. He's out."
"Good, good. Let's hope he stays out for several more hours."
"Yes."
Once in the room, Sherlock carefully carried his son's sleeping form over to the bed and pulled back the covers. "Here we are, love," he whispered as he lowered Hamish onto the bed. A small smile graced the detective's lips as he brushed some stray curls out of the little boy's eyes. "So, then... Any hints as to what is planned tomorrow?" Sherlock asked as he pulled the covers up and pressed a kiss to Hamish's temple.
"Nope. None at all. You'll just have to wait."
Sherlock frowned. "... Fine." Raising a suspecting eyebrow, the detective turned and disappeared into the bathroom.
Chuckling after his flat mate, John turned to Hamish's sleeping form, and took one of the little boy's curled hands in his own. "Goodnight, little man. You did a good job today. Hope you enjoyed it... Mmm." After pressing a kiss of his own to Hamish's temple, the doctor crawled into bed, looking forward to the several hours of sleep he was expecting the next morning.
Once he was finished in the bathroom, Sherlock quickly changed out of his suit and into a pair of pajamas. Gently moving Hamish's sleeping form to the other side of the bed, the detective crawled in, making sure one more time that the little boy was covered enough so that he wouldn't get cold during the night. Satisfied, and with mind racing of the possible plans John could have in mind, Sherlock wrapped his slender hand around his son's tiny middle and—also quite worn out from the day—fell asleep.
