CHAPTER 3.
Friday finds them still wraped up in the case, Sherlock lost in his Mind Palace hours ago and John getting ready for his date and not giving a damn about any case at all, at least not for tonight. He kisses Hamish, pats Mrs. Hudson's arm and thanks her again for taking care of his son (though of who, Hamish or Sherlock, she will really take care, he's not sure) and leaves.
It's cold and rainy but Julie is dressed in marvellous deep blue dress which really brings the colour of her grey, storm-like eyes, and the hue reminds John of Sherlock's robe but he leaves the thought and focuses on her instead. She wears heels, in which she's just a tiny bit higher than our good doctor, but he decides not to bother about it at all. She is really lovely, laughs almost all the time and her perfect, heart-shaped lips are always smiling at him. They go for a dinner and then John walks her home and kisses her goodbye and they arranges another date for Monday, which is a bit soon but John finds himself all eager and he can't wait to see her again.
He comes home around eleven pm and Hamish is asleep, so is Mrs. Hudson, and Sherlock still lies where John left him, and doctor is fairly sure that he hasn't moved at all.
When next day John wakes up, Sherlock is again walking over the flat in just his sheet and when John makes himself tea anf breakfast he sits on the floor with Hamish, showing him one of his childhood books he somehow managed to find, John has no idea, how. He marvells for a moment about weird – but also really cute, it has to be said – kind of friendship his insane, self-diagnosed sociopath of a flatmate has with his two years old son, but at the end he just smiles, and sips his tea, watching them, and he is content.
He even manages to convince himself that when Sherlock's robe slips down and leaves white expanse of his torso for everyone to see, he does not care at all. And he for sure is not staring at his friend for couple of minutes too long, and he is ceirtanly not blushing, and he has not in any case trouble breathing. He's not gay after all, is he?
When couple of hours later Sherlock declares that he needs a break and leaves to harass Molly at morgue, John finds himself somehow relieved. He spends day playing with Hamish and listening to his little son's sweet babbling – he developed a quite adorable lisp, and he's so alike his father, with perfect smile on his tiny pink lips, and somehow the perfect mix of him and Mary in this tiny little person makes John's heart ache.
When Sherlock comes home, carrying a bag of fingers, each one from different owner, Hamish is fast asleep and John sits comfortably on the couch, watching Doctor Who.
Sherlock sits beside him quietly, but silence doesn't last long, and after few minutes consulting detective is ruining John's show – or making it much better, depends of the point of view – telling everybody who wants to listen, who of course is only John, since they're alone in the room, that show is ridicoulous and full of errors. John thinks about all these times when he watched telly alone, after Sherlock's fall, and he realizes, how much he missed it.
Time passes and they fall asleep where they sit, and when John wakes up in the middle of the night due to ache in his back, he has no heart to wake Sherlock up, detective sleeping during a case being such a rare sight.