CHAPTER 2: Gates of Happiness

"Love is the master key which opens the gates of happiness."

-Oliver Wendell Holmes

A month and a half had passed since John had come home to find Sherlock asleep on the couch with baby Hamish. The routine that the three of them had settled into worked well and Hamish was growing by leaps and bounds. He was starting to pull himself up and move around more, his body was changing to. The scrawny little baby that John had first meet was starting to fill out and there was a healthful glow in his cheeks.

Sherlock and John showed the child off as if he were the last of his kind. Tongues were wagging over the new addition to their lives and for once John didn't feel the need to deny his involvement with his flatmate, even if the relationship was still completely platonic. He knew what it looked like. They were raising a child together. There was no longer any use in the furious denials of his feelings for his flatmate.

By agreement they had not been actively looking for any new cases and John had accepted a job in the surgery that paid well and offered him very flexible hours. There had been a couple of simple cases that Sherlock had taken, leaving John or Mrs. Hudson at home to care for Hamish while he was out. He was careful to never be gone more than a few hours at a time. To John's surprise he was quite the mother hen.

Nothing was too good for the boy. Sherlock had gone overboard buying baby toys and clothes. Anything and everything that the baby could possibly need or want. Every closet in the flat was filled almost to overflowing with clothing and toys that Hamish had yet to play with because they were beyond his skill level. There were three toy boxes throughout the flat. One in the bedroom for bedtime toys such as stuffed animals, another in the living room filled with playtime toys like blocks and action figures, and another still in the kitchen for what Sherlock called "experiment" toys. These consisted of some plastic beakers, goggles, lab coat, some kind of green jelly like substance that made noise and a set of play tools complete with a handsaw.

Mycroft had even been by a few times to visit with his nephew and to deliver papers for John and Sherlock concerning the adoption of Hamish. Though the relationship between the brothers was no better or worse, Mycroft played the proud uncle to the little boy and showered him with gifts and affection. He had tried to get Sherlock to agree to let Hamish come stay with him for a few hours at the office so he could boost about him to his colleagues but his request had been adamantly denied. Sherlock had told Mycroft in so many words that his child would never set foot into the kind of government office that his brother ran so long as he was alive. The whole situation was a little unnerving for the doctor. He was not used to this side of the brothers.

However, nighttime was his favorite. They had moved a small cot into Sherlock's room in the corner for John so he could be close to help with Hamish on his off nights at the surgery. The midnight feedings and fussy tummy aches that required pacing the floor for hours at a time didn't bother him. He was up and out of the bed at the first distressed whimper. He would pick up the child and wrap his tightly in his arms and talk to him, soothing him in whatever way he could. Probably, his favorite memories from the past weeks were when Sherlock would wake up and walk with them, draping his arm around John's shoulders or waist while they both talked to the baby, or when he'd just sit on the bed and watch John with their child.

Their child, the words seemed so right somehow. Like nothing else in John's life had ever made since until this tiny little human being came into his life. Hamish was a miracle that John wasn't even aware he'd been searching for but then again his mother had always said that the miracle's you receive when you aren't looking for them were the best kind. Somehow though he didn't think she would have been quite so accepting of his current situation. Lord knows his poor parents had about had a fit over Harry.

"Hamish Watson Holmes," a nurse called from the doorway of the clinic. People turned and looked at the two men as they gathered up the child and the toys he had been playing with. John balanced Hamish on his hip as Sherlock stuffed toys into the diaper bag and his coat pockets. Once when Lestrade had needed them to work a particularly difficult case he had been looking for his magnifying glass in his pocket and had amused everyone when he had pulled out a little toy phone and a small army man. Sherlock had just shrugged and said: "Such things happen when you have a child." The way he said it had made John's heart swell and even Sally had given a little smile.

As the nurse led them down the short hallway to the examination room Hamish thrust his arms out toward Sherlock and grabbed at his coat.

"Da, da, da…" He repeated as John passed the baby off to his other parent. Sherlock smiled brightly at the child and Hamish returned the gesture. Sherlock surprised him more and more everyday with his affection and attention with the child. He began to wonder if maybe Sherlock had just labeled himself a sociopath because it was easier to have a label than to admit he was just hurt and lonely. Either way, it warmed John's heart to watch them, to watch Sherlock be so…loving, and the nurse didn't even try to hide the look on her face. She appeared to be fascinated by the trio and when she noticed she was being observed smiled and gave John a wink.

"My brother and I were adopted by a homosexual couple when we were very young. I'm always reminded of them when I see two men with a child. Nothing is better than giving a child a home and hope that they can have a future. Dr. Milson will be with you shortly." She closed the door behind her. Sherlock sat the child down on the little examination table and pulled a couple of the toys he had stuffed into his coat pocket out for him. They stood side by side watching as Hamish picked them up and put them in his mouth, slobbering all over them and chewing. Without a thought John slipped his arm around Sherlock and lend against his side. It was an unconscious move and one that made Sherlock stiffen and look down at him. He quickly pulled away.

"Sorry," he apologized looking up but quickly turned his gaze back down the Hamish.

Sherlock watched him closely. He hadn't meant to stiffen when John touched him it was just…well, John never really initiated any of their "touching", it was always Sherlock, so the fact that he had had surprised the detective. He looked down at the little boy currently chewing on the head of an army man and felt his heart soften. He knew that it went against his sociopathic nature to care for a child. He'd never officially been diagnosed anyway, he reasoned as he slipped his gaze over to the man beside him. Ever since John had come into his life he had questioned if he were truly incapable of love. He knew now that he wasn't. John had shown him that having a heart, letting emotions show and feeling was not a weakness, it was strength. Having someone you could rely upon, completely depend on and know that no matter what they would always be there was the most amazing strength that anyone could have. Sherlock felt well and truly happy to know that he had that in John and now with Hamish.

"It's okay," he replied finally and slipped his arm around John, urging him to do the same. When the shorter man did Sherlock smiled at him and tilted his head down to rub his cheek against the thick salt and pepper hair of his companion. The way John leaned against him and held his head slightly raised to allow him to nuzzle spoke of his feelings for the detective. It was hard not to notice. John was so horrible at hiding such feelings, most especially from his friend.

A knock on the door brought their heads up and around. They didn't release each other instead moving as one when Dr. Milson came into the room. He was an older man, in his late fifties with a sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of his nose. The doctor was thick through the middle and walked with a slight limp in his right leg which suggested to Sherlock he had either injured it or suffered from some sort of disorder in the joint. Factoring in the man's weight and his age he deduced it was probably arthritis.

"Good morning Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson," his greeted them in a pleasant voice which instantly had Hamish looking up from his toys to watch the progress of the man across the room. Sherlock observed the child as he seemed to eye the doctor, observing him as if to try to make up his little mind if he liked this man or not. Dr. Milson was a physician Mycroft had recommended they use as he was well known and well respected in the field of children's medicine.

"Dr. Milson it's a pleasure." John replied with equal pleasantness and with the same interest as Hamish. Sherlock couldn't help but smile.

"So, how is our little patient today? Hum? I see you have made several improvements just in your physical appearance from the notes on your last visit with Dr. Bridgeman. His muscles are feeling out nicely and his eyes are bright and alert. Has he had any symptoms that you have noticed? How is his diaper rash? Dr. Bridgeman notes said he had a rather severe case when you first brought him in as well as dehydration and malnutrition. I can see from his physical improvements that those are not so much of an issue now. How are his eating habits? Sleeping?" John answered the doctors' questions as he and Sherlock stood off to the side and allowed Dr. Milson to see to Hamish.

No, they hadn't noticed any symptoms other than a slight cough and whiz from the asthma. The diaper rash was healed and his bowl movements were normal. He ate ever four to six hours like he should and he slept through the night most times. All in all he was a very well adjusted, healthy baby.

"Well, then I think we can push his next check-up off for say another month unless there is any other problems which he develops. On a personal note I'd like to add that the two of you are doing a fine job of caring for this child. He seems very happy and he is progressing at a normal rate. I am worried about the asthma. Do either of you smoke?" The question made John smile and Sherlock growl.

"Not anymore. Sherlock did for a while but he's been quit for ages now. I never picked up the habit thankfully." He replied as he began to gather toys and stuff them into Sherlock's pockets. His hand brushed against his companions' hip and thigh and it did not escape his notice that Sherlock would turn slightly away as if to avoid the contact. He frowned at that but when he chanced a glance down he realized the tent in Sherlock's trousers. A grin spread across his face as he lifted his eyes back up. Sherlock wasn't looking at him; instead he was staring intently at Hamish and Dr. Milson. Observing doctor and baby as they interacted.

He was hard! Oh, John had begun to wonder if Sherlock felt the physical attraction that he did. It was clear now that he felt something at least, which was more than he had shown John ever. He finished with the toys and as he stepped over to Sherlock's other side he let the back of his hand brush casually against the front of his mates trousers. The quick intake of breath and the jerk of his hips made John smile. He let his fingers trail across the other man's thigh and up to his hip and further to his side. He was careful to keep his hand hidden from Dr. Milson and Hamish, no need drawing attention to them.

"Follow me out to the front." Dr. Milson instructed as he gathered Hamish's chart and opened the door. John grabbed the child up and started off after the doctor leaving Sherlock to follow behind. They were nearly to the front when he felt something pressing against his back just barely touching the top of his behind. Warm fingers slipped under his jumper and pressed against the skin of his back and brushed just inside the top of his trousers. He glanced over his shoulder. Sherlock smiled at him suggestively.

John returned the gesture and shifted Hamish higher on his hip. He had such high hopes for that gleam in Sherlock's eyes. Such high hopes.

As they walked out of the clinic to hail a cab to take them back to Baker Street John felt the hand on his back dip lower until four of Sherlock's fingers were brushing against the bare skin at the top of his rear. He shivered and had to struggle to surpass a moan. He glanced down at Hamish who was busy chewing on the head of an army man and watching the cars pass by. Warm breath against his ear caused him to close his eyes and swallow hard.

"I hope Mrs. Hudson is home when we get back to the flat because I need to speak with you," Sherlock whispered nipping at the space behind John's ear. "Privately."