After their conversation at the table, Sherlock, John, and the two scientists rose from their seats and made their way to the living room for the next part of the visit.
Taking the DNA samples didn't take long. Cheek swabs, blood samples, a couple strands of hair... All carefully labelled and stored in the black briefcases. John commented that it felt like something out of Harry Potter; Sherlock responded with disgust, "dull, predictable, completely impossible. I don't understand why anyone would enjoy those novels."
James Hemsworth and Jenna Walters gave polite goodbyes and left with their supplies and samples.
"Pair of idiots," Sherlock grunted as soon as the door was shut behind them. "You could have taken better samples in half the time. Why on Earth would Mycroft trust them with the life of our son?"
John's grin, which hadn't left his face since he was told the gender of his child, faded. "You couldn't have been a little less awful? Those two are at least assisting in, if not heading, the project to birth our BLOODY CHILD!"
"No excuse for idiocy."
...
"I don't understand why you are so against it. You should be flattered," Sherlock sighs at an exasperated John. A few days had passed, and the boys were standing around the battlefield that was the dinner table of 221B.
"Because I bloody hate it, as I have made extremely clear to you. I would think a world-renowned genius could pick up on that."
"But I like it."
"Yes, you've said that at least twenty times tonight! I understand that you like it, but I don't, and I'm not swaying."
"What do you have against the name Hamish? I want to name our son after you. I thought you enjoyed sentimentality, or whatever."
"It's not about sentimentality. I will not force him to go through the torture of having the name Hamish."
"Well, if you hate my ideas so much then come up with some of your own."
John stares at him with a look of disbelief. "Thomas, Steven, Joshua, Martin, Peter, Ben, Henry, Andrew, even Sherlock. I've thrown out all those and more and you've found reasons to reject every one of them."
"That's because I don't like them."
"UUUGGGHHHH!" John groans, loudly. "You're such a child. I should have known what I was getting into when we started going out."
Sherlock goes silent.
John looks at Sherlock and sees fear and sadness in his eyes, though he is trying to hide it. Suddenly, John is just as scared. "No, Sherlock, I swear I didn't mean it like that. You know that I love you. I hope you know that."
Sherlock smiles a little, visually relieved. With a smirk he says, "We really should name him Hamish."
"Oh. My. GOD!" And with that John storms off to bed.
It takes a couple more nights of bicker for the boys to settle on a compromise. Hudson Hamish Holmes-Watson, in honor of their beloved landlady.
