Sherlock woke up feeling himself warm and very comfy. While opening his eyes, Sherlock looked at the ceiling above him and realised he was lying on the sofa in the sitting room, and there was someone else with him. Sherlock lowered his head and met Hamish' sleepy face glued to his chest.
He smiled.
Sherlock had a securing arm around Hamish, preventing him from falling off the edge of the sofa. Their bodies were covered with a thick duvet and the window close to them had its curtains still closed, not letting the sun go through.
From his place, Sherlock saw Jane in the kitchen, decorating a cake, quietly, trying not to make too much noise.
The detective wanted to go and talk to her but it meant he had to get off the sofa, and he was with Hamish. Sherlock didn't want to waste that chance he had been given to sleep next him, next to the small kid he loved as if he were his real son.
Hamish looked so peaceful in his sleep. Sherlock looked at his little face, his soft, fair curls and to his round cheeks. Hamish was a lovely and beautiful boy. He had Jane's blondish hair and her nose, and most of his features were Watson's. But apart from that, Sherlock realised Hamish looked a lot more like him that he really should.
And it was unbelievable.
He was not Hamish' biological father. Jane had conceived Hamish with him, with Sam Sawyer, but definitely not with Sherlock and yet he looked a lot like him.
Sherlock didn't mind. Sherlock never cared. Sam Sawyer left, and he left Jane alone, with a baby on the way, and Sherlock was there to pick up the pieces of Jane's broken heart. He fixed it and he had always been there as Hamish' father. It made Sherlock think he had hopes. He still had a chance to prove Jane he loved her, that he was not going to hurt them again and that he wanted to be Hamish' daddy.
Hamish was starting to wake up when Jane gestured Sherlock to be quiet and to keep Hamish sleeping.
"Mmmm..."
Sherlock kissed his forehead. "Hush, baby. Go back to sleep," whispered Sherlock softly.
"Daddy Sherwock..."
"Go back to sleep," whispered Sherlock to Hamish' left ear and kissed his forehead again.
Hamish eventually fell asleep again and Sherlock remained his position there, next to Hamish, embracing him with an arm as he caressed his curls with the other hand.
Sherlock wanted that moment to never end. He wanted to be there with Hamish forever, embracing him, feeling his little heart beating against his own and his soft curly hair brushing his neck.
While Jane prepared breakfast, Sherlock remained his position until he made himself sure Hamish was deeply asleep.
"Sorry, he insisted he wanted to sleep with you," explained Jane as she handed Sherlock his cup.
"It's okay."
After a few minutes of silence, Jane gathered all her courage and spoke first. "I can't make him understand you're not his daddy. I tried everything."
"I want to be his father."
"He always asked me why his friends had a mother and a father and he only had me," said Jane, biting her lip. "I can't understand why he chose to call you 'daddy'"
"What did you tell him?"
Jane bent her head, and looked at Hamish' peacefully sleeping form on the sofa, remembering all those moments in which she tried to explain Hamish they were alone, that there was no one to call 'daddy' because the two men who she once loved left her alone. "I told him he didn't have one, that it was only me."
"He's only three years old, he won't require further information for at least two or three more years," whispered Sherlock.
"I know."
"Let me be his father."
"Sherlock, I can't tell Hamish you're his father. It... it implies a lot of explanation I'm not going to do. It also implies an association Hamish will do - that we're together - and I don't want him to believe that. He's three years old and I can't afford to mess with his mind and the conception he has of his family. He already got problems, you know that," explained Jane, softly.
Sherlock nodded. "But he wants me to be his daddy. What are we meant to tell him then?"
"I don't know..."
Hamish woke up and immediately ran to his mother's arms, with a wide smile on his face.
"Mummy!"
"Happy birthday, Hamish!" said Jane as she pressed a warm kiss to her son's cheek. "I love you so much, baby."
There were tears on Jane's face, as she kissed Hamish and caressed his cheeks. With a hand, Jane helped Hamish with his hearing aid as he buried his face on her chest. Sherlock looked how Hamish' little fingers curled on Jane's shirt and how the boy closed his eyes, feeling his mother's heartbeats.
"I love you mummy."
It was a moment in which Sherlock remembered all the moment he shared with Jane, when she was pregnant. He remembered hugging her tightly in the park when she read the results saying she was pregnant. Jane cried because she was alone and she didn't know what to do, and Sherlock took her hand and promised her he was going to be with her. Then, when they got married, when they realised they loved each other. Sherlock liked to touch Jane's growing belly and wonder how and why that little baby inside her kicked every time he was around.
Sherlock liked to sit between Jane's legs and caress her belly, touch it, feel it, kiss it. Trace imaginary patterns with his fingertips and imagine together, with Jane, how their baby would look like.
And now, after all he things that had happened between them, there they were. They weren't the family they once dreamt of. They weren't together, loving each other and raising Hamish together, or with another baby on the way.
They were just two people living together, pretending nothing happened between them.
And a baby who wanted them both to be his parents.
"Daddy Shewock!" said Hamish as he ran to Sherlock's arms.
Sherlock helped him on his high chair and kissed his forehead. "Happy birthday, Hamish."
"Cake! Cake! I wanna cake!"
"No Hamish, later. We need to wait till nan Hudson is up," explained Jane.
But Hamish wanted his cake. "Cake! Cake, cake, cake!"
"Mrs Hudson won't wake up till a few more hours if she had another of her herbal shooters last night," said Sherlock.
Jane eventually placed the cake she had baked early that morning on the table, in front of Hamish and lit the three candles at the top. It was a very modest cake covered with chocolate and three blue candles at the top of it.
Hamish looked very happy and excited. He clapped his hands together and smiled at his mother and at Sherlock. Jane sat next to him and the three of them sang a very happy birthday song.
"Happy birthday to you,
Happy birthday to you.
Happy birthday, little Hamish,
Happy birthday to you!"
Before Hamish could blown off the candles of his cake, Jane kissed his cheek. "Remember your three wishes, Hamish."
Hamish nodded and after a few seconds, he blew the candles off. Sherlock, who had a wide smile upon his face kissed Hamish' cheek and hugged him tightly. Hamish clung to Sherlock's shirt and buried his face into his chest. Sherlock, still with Hamish in his arms, turned to wipe the little tears off his eyes.
Jane saw this, but didn't say a word.
"Happy birthday, Hamish. I'm sorry I missed the first two. I'm sorry, baby."
But Hamish didn't understand what Sherlock had just said. He only rested his head on Sherlock's shoulder and clung his arms around his neck.
"I love you, Hamish."
"I love you too, daddy Sher-Sherlock."
Sherlock turned to face Jane. She had tears in her eyes too and she was smiling.
Maybe Sherlock had a chance.
A few minutes later they ate cake, Jane gave Hamish a present. It was a big box with crayons and pencils and a bunch of books specially designed for children with developmental delay problems like Hamish. Most of them had drawings of animals, which Hamish loved.
Sherlock handed Hamish a small blue wrapped box. Hamish thanked him, very politely, and tore the wrapping paper apart, revealing a white box which contained a new hearing aid.
"This one is smaller and more comfortable," said Sherlock as he replaced Hamish' older hearing aid and helped him to put on the new one. "Good?"
Hamish nodded. "Thwank you."
"It must have cost you a fortune. You didn't need to, Sherlock," said Jane, watching how Hamish started writing and painting using his new pencils.
"It fell off his ear yesterday, and the Americans stepped on it... Hamish needed a new one."
"I'll pay it back."
Sherlock shook his head. "No."
"Yes I am."
"Mind if I join you?"
Both turned, even Hamish, to look at Irene Adler, who had her hair damp, Sherlock's blue gown on and barefoot.
Jane immediately took Hamish off Sherlock's arms, sharply and tried to go to her room upstairs, when Irene stepped in front of her and smiled at Hamish. "What a cute little thing. I'd like to say he looks just like his daddy here, but we all know that would be a lie..."
"Don't touch my son!" hissed Jane, angrily.
"Jealous he would like me more just like Sherlock?"
Sherlock grabbed Irene by her arm and pulled her away from Jane, who ran to her room and slammed the door shut.
"What are you doing here?"
Irene smiled. "Don't pretend you don't like seeing me here, darling."
"Who's after you?"
"People who want to kill me."
"You faked your own death in order to get ahead of them."
"It worked for a while."
"But you let Jane know that you were alive, and therefore me."
"I knew you'd keep my secret," said Irene with a smile. "Where's my camera phone?"
Sherlock took the camera phone out of his jacket pocket. "What do you keep on here?"
"Pictures, information, anything I might find useful," explained Irene. "For protection. I make my way in the world... I misbehave. I like to know people will be on my side exactly when I need them to be."
"But how do you acquire this information?"
Irene sat next to Sherlock. "I told you. I misbehave. And I want to misbehave with you."
"You've got something else here," said Sherlock, ignoring her previous comment. "Something you don't understand."
Sherlock handed Irene the camera phone and she pressed the passcode, but it beeped showing a wrong passcode screen.
"It's not working."
"No, because it's a duplicate that I had made, into which you've just entered the numbers one-oh-five-eight," said Sherlock, as he took the original camera phone out his pocket and pressed the same code.
But it was not the correct code.
I AM 1058LOCKED
WRONG PASSCODE
1 ATTEMPT REMAINING.
"I told you that camera phone was my life. I know when it's in my hand."
"Oh, you're rather good," said Sherlock, softly.
"There was a man - an MOD official. I knew what he liked. One of the things he liked was showing off. He told me this email was going to save the world. He didn't know it, but I photographed it. He was a bit tied up at the time. It's a bit small on that screen, can you read it?" asked Irene as she handed Sherlock her camera phone.
"Yes."
"A code, obviously. I had one of the best cryptographers in the country take a look at it, though he was mostly upside down, as I recall. Couldn't figure it out. What can you do, Mr Holmes?" asked Irene, leaning very close to Sherlock's shoulder, just inches away from his cheek. "Go on. Impress a girl like me."
Irene kissed Sherlock's cheek softly. She even took her time.
"There's a margin for error but I'm pretty sure there's a seven-forty-seven leaving Heathrow tomorrow at six thirty in the evening for Baltimore. Apparently it's going to save the world. Not sure how that can be true but give me a moment; I've only been on the case for eight seconds. It's not code. These are seat allocations on a passenger jet -"
Irene pushed Sherlock till he was against the table. "I would have you right here on this desk until you begged for mercy twice."
"I've never begged for mercy in my life."
"Twice," said Irene, intensively, as she leaned forward, trying to kiss Sherlock's lips. Behind her, she had her camera phone, and she was tipping a text.
Neither of them realised Jane was looking at them from the door ajar.
And there were some tears in her eyes.
