Age: 18

Sherlock arrives home to a seemingly empty flat. He thinks he's alone until he hears muffled voices in the kitchen. After hanging his coat on the hook, Sherlock pokes his head around the corner to see his son slouched against the counter with his arms wrapped his friend's (boyfriend's, his mind sneers) waist. Toby stands in between Hamish's legs, occasionally pressing their lips together and cuddling him close.

Sherlock coughs and they jump away from each other.

"Hamish, would you pop down to the news agents and get me a packet of cigarettes please?" he holds a ten pound note between his fingers and presents it to his son, "you know the type I like."

"Haven't you just been out?"

"Yes. I forgot."

Hamish's fingers tighten in Toby's shirt, "John's still out, text him."

Sherlock raises an eyebrow, "you think John would buy me cigarettes? I'd rather avoid the lecture."

Toby steps forward, "it's alright, I'll come with you."

"No need," Sherlock interrupts, "it's just around the corner; Hamish will be back in five minutes."

Hamish narrows his eyes at Sherlock and takes the money to stuff in his pocket. Standing close to his father, Hamish glowers up at him and whispers, "you don't just forget things; I know what you're up to. Don't you dare scare him."

"And why not?" Sherlock's eyes flash dangerously, "he could use a good scaring if he wishes to associate with you."

"I know you mean well, but just behave. Please."

Hamish shoots his father one last glare before making a point of going to Toby and kisses him gently, "don't let whatever he says get to you, he's good at playing with people's minds."

Toby's eyes widen as Hamish pulls away and trots down the stairs. He watches Sherlock force a smile and pull out one of the chairs. He sits and puts his hands under his chin.

"Now, Toby. Sit down."

Toby does as he's told and sits opposite Sherlock.

"Mr Holmes, I…"

"No, no," Sherlock waves a hand, "I know exactly what you're going to say. When Hamish first brought you home I thought you were just going to be a fling, but since it seems that he's quite enamoured with you, we need to have a chat."

"Okay, well…"

The chair creaks as Sherlock sits back and folds his hands in his lap, "I'm not going to lecture you. You've been with Hamish for four months now and you seem to be an interesting boy, but do remember that John and I deal with hardened criminals on a daily basis. Should anyone hurt Hamish in any way, physically or mentally, they will certainly know not to again. You should also take note that John is ex-military, Hamish's godfather is Scotland Yard's best DI, and my brother is the British Government. Make sure you think before doing anything hasty."

John clatters through the front door at that moment, carrying a week's worth of shopping.

"Oi, I know one of you is home, nice of you to help," he calls, shuffling into the kitchen and spotting Toby and Sherlock, "oh sorry, hey Toby. Where's Hamish?"

"He's running an errand for me, John. I was just having a chat with Toby here." Sherlock smiles sweetly while Toby looks between them wide-eyed.

"Oh?" John raises his eyebrows and opens the fridge to put away the shopping, "and may I ask what the topic of this chat is?"

"I'm advising Toby on being involved with my son."

John nods, "of course. You do seem like a lovely lad, Toby, but do be aware that if you hurt him in any way…"

"My life won't be worth living, I know," Toby drags his fingers through his short hair, "Mr Holmes made that quite clear."

The corner of Sherlock's mouth quirks up.

"Good lad," John smiles and continues putting the shopping away, "and call us John and Sherlock. We might as well be on first name terms."

The front door clatters and heavy footsteps trudge up the stairs.

"Here's your bloody cigarettes," Hamish grumbles when he enters the flat. He throws the packet and change onto the table. Ignoring Sherlock and John, Hamish takes Toby's hand and pulls him out of the chair to walk him up the stairs.

John stares at the white packet on the table, "you sent him out to buy those?"

Sherlock quickly snatches them off the table and shoves the box into his inside pocket, "I wanted to speak with Toby alone and I was running low on cigarettes. Killed two birds with one stone."

Rolling his eyes, John pulls Sherlock's jacket open and takes the box. He puts it in his own pocket and points his index finger at Sherlock, "you know the drill. No cigarettes unless I say so, and no sending your barely legal son to buy them for you. I got you some more patches so you can make do with those, now help me unpack the shopping."

Sherlock grumbles, but takes the box of patches anyway.

[][][]

"What did he say to you?"

Hamish barely has his bedroom door shut before he spins Toby around to interrogate him.

"Listen, if he said anything that offended you in any way, I am so so sorry," Hamish babbles, hands hovering over Toby's shoulders, "I'm surprised he's held off this long, he's probably been dying to show off," he sighs and rubs the heels of his hands in his eyes, "he really isn't good with people."

Toby squeezes the back of Hamish's neck, "Mish, I've stuck around because I like you. I'm sure he'll get used to me soon; he just told me that if I hurt you I'm as good as dead. I'm still not quite used to some of the things he does when I'm here. I'm pretty sure I saw a jar of toes in your kitchen."

Hamish snorts, "you never get used to him. I've been with him my whole life and some of the things he does still amaze me. And I mean that in both good and bad ways."

Toby laughs, "so, is your uncle seriously the British Government? Or was your dad trying to scare me, and he's actually the guy who makes the tea?"

"Uncle Mycroft is one of the most powerful men in Britain; he can be terrifying and has control of all CCTV in the UK," Hamish grins, "but under it all he's a big softie and sometimes brings me sweets. I'm under strict orders to never share any with dad."

John's voice drifts up from the bottom of the stairs, "Sherlock wants me to tell you two that he wants no funny business under Mrs Hudson's roof."

"I think it's too late for that," Toby whispers.

Hamish snorts and he and Toby fall against the door, dissolving into giggles.