Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock
3: Awkward Situations
John tapped his foot impatiently, checking his watch. Five minutes- five bloody minutes to get Hamish to his play group and then to St Bart's. As usual, Sherlock was making a fuss about leaving the flat, and was deliberately taking eternity to sort out his hair. Apparently it was 'John's fault for being so careless with it' as Sherlock had yelled at him from the bathroom, but John knew he was just being difficult because he felt Hamish shouldn't be attending play group. Hamish was happily talking to John about his skull, dressed in a hat and scarf to battle the cold weather.
"Sherlock, I swear to god if you don't get down in here in 30 seconds, I'm leaving," John yelled up the stairs in exasperation when Hamish had stopped rambling. Hamish giggled, and tugged at John's sleeve as an indication he wanted to be picked up. John balanced Hamish on his hip, and scowled at the ceiling, where his stupid husband was no doubt having a great time aggravating John.
"Father is being stupid," Hamish observed. John rolled his eyes, remembering the conversation he'd had with Sherlock when Hamish started talking. John had told him to use mellow words, that didn't cause any offense, around Hamish. Obviously Sherlock didn't listen, reasoning that Hamish needed as vast a vocabulary as possible in his infant years.
Sherlock finally graced them with his presence two minutes later, pulling on his coat and knotting his scarf at the base of his neck. John tried not to stare at the vast expense that was Sherlock's neck, and simply turned and marched out the door.
Once they were in the cab, Hamish settled himself between his parents, and began studiously examining a book on human anatomy. Sherlock pulled out his phone, and began scanning the data for any potential cases to figure out, while John simply stared out the window. The taxi was silent, but it was a pleasant silence, which their strange little family was fully used to.
They pulled up by the playgroup a few minutes later, and Sherlock insisted on holding onto the cab, so he didn't have to bother himself with ordinary people. John picked up Hamish, and after making sure he had his lunch box and backpack, carried him into the hall. All the other mothers were leaving, satisfied that their child had settled in, so John moved quickly over to one of the woman who ran the playgroup.
"Hi, I need to somewhere, so is it ok if I leave Hamish with you to hang up his coat and stuff?" John said, putting Hamish down and ruffling his curls. The blonde woman with a sickly pink cardigan smiled dazzlingly at John, and nodded.
"Of course- what time will his mother be here for him?" she asked, taking Hamish's hand. Hamish looked exactly like Sherlock as he glared at her with contempt, and pulled his hand free, choosing to delve into his book.
Mentally groaning, John prepared him for the conversation which either resulted in a homophobic comment or a forced smile and a quick dismissal.
"He hasn't got a mum. Me and his dad will be here later," he said quietly, aware of other women listening to the conversation. The insufferable woman still smiled, but looked at him in confusion.
"So are you his uncle?" she said, as if she couldn't draw the correct conclusion. John gave her a tight smile.
"No, I'm his dad," he said promptly. A strange expression crossed the woman's face, before she gave Hamish a glance, then looked back at John.
"Ah. Well, see you in a few hours," she said, and walked away, clutching Hamish's wrist. John stared after her in disgust, but upon checking his watch, he realised he ought to be at St Bart's and dashed out the hall.
Sherlock was glaring at John from the taxi, where the driver was presumably trying to make conversation. Smirking, John slid in next to Sherlock, and closed the door. Sherlock gave the name of their destination, and then proceeded in slamming the glass partition shut, so as to block out the driver. John sighed, and relaxed back into his chair. You'd think in this day and age, people would be more accepting of same sex couples, John thought despairingly. Sherlock obviously noticed that John was bothered by something, and was quick to deduce.
"Another homophobic parent or teacher?" he asked, barely looking up from his phone. John was used to getting Sherlock's attention being divided, and wasn't offended when Sherlock didn't appear to show any interest.
"Yeah. Though I was Hamish's uncle," snorted John. Sherlock let out a soft laugh, and carried on typing.
"You honestly care what people think?" the detective asked. John shrugged.
"I try not to. But not everyone is a genius who relies primarily on intellect. Most of us are just ordinary, and need to blend in a bit," Sherlock considered this, and then shuffled over so that he was leaning against John. John put his arm around his husband, and nestled his cheek into his curls. Most people had been accepting of him and Sherlock's relationship, but they both still had to deal with homophobes. Donovan, for example, wasn't exactly supportive of their relationship- John still remembered when they'd made it clear they were in a relationship in front of the whole of Scotland Yard…
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"For God's sake, John, surely you can get more from this body than how long she's been dead?" Sherlock snapped at his doctor. Sherlock and John had been summoned by Lestrade earlier that morning, by the Inspector bursting into the flat to find its occupants by the window, full on snogging. John hadn't exactly relished in explaining the situation to Lestrade, who had taken a picture before alerting them to his presence, but Lestrade was surprisingly accepting, although he warned him that now it was completely his responsibility to control Sherlock at crime scenes. However, Lestrade kept giving John looks whenever he and Sherlock so much as talked, to which John responded with glares. As usual, Sherlock was obvious and focused on the crime.
"Sherlock, there's absolutely no sign of any injury on the body. Use your fancy detective skills to find the bloody injury," John said, trying to keep the annoyance out of his tone. Sherlock groaned dramatically, and began examining the body again, clearly sulking with John.
John bent down reluctantly, and began looking in more detail at the face. The face would be a good indication of any external substances entering the body. Her mouth would be an ideal starting point- John tried to observe without touching the body, but it was impossible, so he opened her mouth slightly. A gleam of white caught his eye- some sort of white powder was staining her tongue. John's eyes widened, and he caught Sherlock's wrist as the detective moved by him, earning him some strange looks from the rest of the team.
"Look- some sort of drug?" John muttered, gesturing to her woman's mouth. Sherlock scanned the evidence, before his face shaped itself into a smile and he stood up abruptly.
"Of course! Oh John you do bring out the genius in me," Sherlock gasped, and pulled John by his coat into a kiss. John squealed, somewhat girlishly, and felt the open mouthed stares of Scotland Yard piercing his back. Sherlock obviously didn't care, and kept on shoving his tongue into John's mouth until John finally pushed his detective away.
"Christ, Sherlock," he laughed disbelievingly. Sherlock smirked, before strutting out the door, leaving John with five gob smacked officers, and Lestrade, who seemed to be doubled up in laughter. John smiled sheepishly at the team, before following his boyfriend out the door. He heard Lestrade asking someone to pay up, and Anderson groaning, as well as Donovan making a remark on how she always knew John was a poof. That didn't sit well with John, but he never actually brought it up, relying on Lestrade to put her in her place. John had found Sherlock waiting- waiting- for him outside the building, and John had wrapped his arm around his boyfriend's waist as they waited for a taxi.
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"Ok, John, I gather you've… prepared?" Molly could barely look John in the eye, clearly embarrassed by the ordeal. John felt more or less the same, and reached slowly into his pocket, wishing the earth would swallow him.
"Hurry up, John," Sherlock chided, sounding bored already. John turned to glare at his husband, but Sherlock simply reached into John's trouser pocket and pulled out the container, handing it straight to Molly was no indication of feeling awkward or uncomfortable in the situation. Molly held it gingerly, and gestured for them to follow her into the lab.
"John, its honestly not that big of a deal," Sherlock whispered in John's ear. John pushed Sherlock away- there was more than one reason that the situation was embarrassing. Molly still fancied Sherlock slightly; as Mrs Hudson had confided in him (Mrs Hudson had struck up a strange sort of friendship with Molly, bonded over their association with Sherlock). John had been rather surprised by this revelation- Sherlock had been gay most of his life, and was married with a son- surely that was enough of an indication he wasn't interested. Apparently it was a ghost of how infatuated she had been, and thankfully Sherlock hadn't noticed.
"Alright, so how long will it take?" John said as he entered the lab. Molly was bringing out her equipment, and gave John a tight smile, before replying.
"A few hours. I know you need to get back to Hamish so you can leave whenever," she said softly. John couldn't help but feel slightly sorry for her, as she averted her gaze from the tall, alluring man in the corner on his phone, and back to the Petri dish.
"Let's get this over with," John said, and dragged Sherlock to Molly's side, so they could monitor the process themselves.
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