Hello, lovely readers! Here is the next chapter. I can't believe I got it done so soon. Anyway, there will be one more chapter after this and then it will be finished! Please review and enjoy :)
The days leading up to September first were very difficult for John. While Sherlock helped Hamish pack up his things, John remained seated in his chair, staring ahead blankly. Of course, he never acted like that around their son. He couldn't let him see him like that. However, the hard part was hiding his feeling from Sherlock. That man could read John like an open book, but he didn't want Sherlock to know how much he hated all of this.
The night before Hamish was to leave for Hogwarts, John and Sherlock laid awake in their bed. John kept his back to the detective, who was staring up at the ceiling with his hands steepled, and let out a heavy sigh as he squeezed his eyes shut. He had to stop thinking about it. It's not like their son was leaving forever. He opened his eyes once more as Sherlock broke the silence between them. "He's leaving tomorrow, you know."
"Yes," John replied hoarsely and cleared his throat. "I'm aware."
There was a moment of silence before Sherlock spoke again. "I've never seen him this happy before, John." The doctor said nothing in return. "He wishes you'd be happy for him, too. And don't say that you are; he sees right through your facade."
John bit his lip softly, silently cursing himself for treating his own son like that. He felt the bed shift slightly as Sherlock rolled onto his side, wrapping his arm around John's waist and resting his chin on his shoulder. "What happened to our conversation in Diagon Alley?" He asked him softly.
"I don't want him to go, Sherlock," he replied quietly. "He's just a boy."
"As was I when I left for Hogwarts. It's a rite of passage, John."
John let out a heavy sigh. "Are you sure he'll be alright?"
"Positive," Sherlock replied. John nodded his head slowly and closed his eyes, finally able to fall asleep with the assurance.
John was awoken the next morning by the smell of something burning. He rolled over to find that Sherlock was no longer in bed, his eyes widening. "Sherlock?!" He called out as he bolted from the room and into the kitchen. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw both Sherlock and Hamish were perfectly fine.
Sherlock looked at him with a raised brow as he set a plate of burnt bacon on the table. "Yes?"
John furrowed his brows, cocking his head to the side in confusion. "You… You made breakfast?"
The detective smirked. "Thought I'd let you sleep in." He sat down next to Hamish and unfolded the morning paper before taking a sip of his coffee. "Have a seat, John."
He looked at his family with a small smile and sat down as Hamish took a few pieces of bacon and offered him a piece. "No, thank you," John shook his head. "I'm not hungry." He ignored the look of indignation that Sherlock gave him. "So, Hamish, are you all packed?"
The boy nodded his head with a grin. "Father helped me get everything ready. I've got all of my books, my clothes, my owl…"
John zoned out as Hamish went on about school. It was good to see him so happy. After a while, he excused himself from the table to go and take a quick shower. By the time he was done, Hamish and Sherlock were ready to go. While Hamish went down to say goodbye to Mrs. Hudson, his parents brought his trunk out to the taxi that was waiting for them at the curb. They loaded the trunk and got inside just as Hamish ran out of the building, joining them in the taxi. "King's Cross, please," Sherlock told the driver and they were off.
John held Sherlock's hand as he watched the streets London pass by through the window. He was still a bit nervous about the situation, but he would be able to contain it until they returned to the flat.
When they finally arrived at the train station, Hamish was practically jumping up and down with excitement. Sherlock got the trunk from the back of the taxi while John paid the driver. Once they were all set, the trio made their way into the station.
"What platform?" John asked as they walked past platforms six and seven.
"Nine and three quarters," Hamish replied enthusiastically as he pushed his trunk along in the trolley.
"Don't be silly, Hamish. It doesn't exist."
"Doesn't it?" Sherlock replied with a raised brow. They stopped between platforms nine and ten and he went over to their son, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Now, Hamish, I want you to run straight ahead into the wall. Make sure you get up to a good speed. We don't want to scare the muggles, now, do we?"
"Sherlock!" John stared at him in disbelief. "You can't just tell our son to run straight into a wall! He could seriously hurt himself!"
"Oh, hush, John," Sherlock replied with a sideways glance at him. "Go ahead, Hamish."
Hamish looked back at his parents before running towards the wall and disappearing into it. John's jaw dropped at the sight. "Where… Where did he go?"
"Platform nine and three quarters," Sherlock answered him with a smirk and took his hand tightly in his own. "Are you ready, John?"
"Ready? Ready for what?" The mischievous gleam in the detective's eyes gave him his answer. "No. Absolutely not. I am not running into that wall. It probably wouldn't even work for me!"
"Do you trust me?"
John looked at him, fear evident in his eyes. "Y-Yes. Of course, I do."
Sherlock smiled and gave him a quick kiss. "On the count of three, then… One… Two… Three!"
John held on tightly to Sherlock's hand as they ran straight towards the wall. He squeezed his eyes just before impact. Nothing happened. Slowly, he opened his eyes, his jaw dropping as he took in the sights of the wizarding platform. A bright red engine blew its whistle while parents said their goodbyes. He looked over to find Sherlock helping Hamish load his things onto the train. He let out a sigh as he watched them wistfully.
"Sending off your first one, huh?"
John turned to see a man with messy, raven-black hair and round glasses. "How could you tell?"
"You look the same way I felt when we sent off our first," the man answered him with a shrug of his shoulders. "Don't worry about him. He'll be fine. Hogwarts is the safest place in the world."
"I just can't help it," John replied. "It seems like just yesterday that we were bringing him home for the first time."
The man nodded his head slowly. "I know that it's difficult at first, but I promise you that it gets better."
"Thanks," john said with a small smile."
"Oh, I'm Harry, by the way," he extended his hand towards him. "Harry Potter."
"John Watson," he replied, shaking Harry's hand firmly. He glanced over to see Hamish and Sherlock making their way towards them. "Well, that's my family. It was a pleasure to meet you."
Harry smiled at him. "Good luck, John." With that, he headed back towards his own family.
"Who was that?" Hamish asked when they returned to him.
"Some man named Harry Potter," John replied with a shrug.
Hamish stared up at him in disbelief. "You met Harry Potter?!" John furrowed his brows at him in confusion.
"I'll explain later," Sherlock whispered to him before turning to Hamish. "The train will be leaving any moment now." Hamish smiled at him happily before giving him a hug. Sherlock returned it half-heartedly. "Good luck with your studies and don't get yourself into too much trouble." He smirked at the glare John gave him.
Hamish then hugged John, who nearly suffocated him with his embrace. "You be careful, okay? And you'd better write to us every week."
"Don't worry about me, Dad. I'll be fine. Promise." The boy look up at his dad with a smile as the whistle blew once more. After one final goodbye, he ran off to get on board.
As the train began to move, Hamish stuck his head out of the window and waved at his parents. John took Sherlock's hand as they waved goodbye to their son. Sherlock looked at him with a small smile before turning his gaze to the train, watching until it was out of sight. "Are you alright?" He asked John.
The doctor nodded his head. "Yeah. I think I will be."