CHAPTER 9.

John goes for yet another date.

Sherlock lies on the couch curled into a ball with wild mop of curls sticking out at the end, and thinks hatefully how absolutely preposterous, ridiculous, how moronic, how simply stupid this is. It's dark outside, night slowly becoming morning, this grey hour when everything seems magical and beautiful, but Sherlock sees nothing of this beauty. He would very much like to shot walls a little bit, or at least settle at playing his violin, but Hamish is asleep and he doesn't want to wake him up. People may think that he is some kind of monster without emotions, and therefore that he hates children, but the truth is, that he actually quite likes them, at least the smart ones. And Hamish is very smart one indeed, Sherlock finds himself fascinated by this little human, and – maybe because he treats him like he treats everyone, just like he would treat an adult – Hamish adores him too. He always smiles at him with his adorable smile, and listens with eyes wide open when detective talks to him in his rich, velvety voice, and falls asleep instantly lulled by sweet notes of violin. So Sherlock doesn't want to disturb baby's peaceful sleep, hence now he lies in silence and thinks. He would never ever suppose that one day he will think with such distaste about the very act of thinking, but there he is now. The problem is, he can't stop. He can't stop thinking about John's oncoming date, jealousy taking control over him. And John hasn't even left yet, all he's done was telling Sherlock that he has plans for tomorrow's evening and asking if he could take care of Hamish then, cause Mrs. Hudson was visiting her friend for two days and was not there.

Sherlock, of course, kept his façade firmly on place and faked impatience perfectly.

"Don't be obtuse, John." She snapped. "Of course I will take care of him."

"Promise not to do anything stupid?" John eyed him suspiciously. "No weird experiments? No shooting? And you won't leave him somewhere?"

"I'm not stupid, I can take care of a baby, John."

"You hardly can take of yourself." John pointed out. "But all right. It's not like it's the first time you will be with Hamish. Just...Just call me if anything went wrong, okay?"

Great detective rolled his eyes.

"Fine."

But of course it wasn't fine cause Sherlock was jealous and honest enough not to lie to at least himself about it. It was like with Mary all over again. He had to do something, but was there even anything to do?

And then there was also the case, case in which he kept missing something, something important. What was it?

Sherlock groans and sits abruptly, running his fingers through wild mess of curls on his head. Why is everything so complicated? Why has his heart insists on taking over this very moment? There are people dying.

Morning came and went, same as afternoon, both seeing Sherlock lying on the couch in unchanged position, sometimes with his eyes closed, the other times staring at the ceiling. John made him tea, tried to talk to him, and then left him to his thoughts, getting ready for a date.

Sherlock may seem lost in his thoughts, but the truth is he watches every John's movement with attention. John put on his least-favourite button down shirt, and this oatmeal jumper he stopped wearing while ago. Sherlock can't quite crack his motives there, he's seeing a woman after all, woman he hopes he will built future with? Why then is he dressed with such a inattentiveness? It doesn't make any sense, but then again, the good doctor never ceases to surprise him.

He kisses Hamish on the cheek, puts him on the floor near couch with some of his toys near, and pats Sherlock on the arm awkwardly.

"So. I'll be back before midnight. I'm taking Emma to cinema."

"Yes, John, just leave." Sherlock says coldly.

"Are you sure you're okay?" John frowns. "I can stay if..."

"Just shut up and go for your preposterous date." Detective flips over on the couch, so now he's facing the wall and not John.

"Are you sulking?" John's voice is concerned and it's the last thing Sherlock can stand now.

"No! And now just go!"

John hesitates for the minute but then the door opens and closes. He leaves.

Sherlock sits and looks at Hamish, sitting silently on the floor, building a tower with wooden blocks. He can't help and smiles softly, but then remembers John again, and stops. He stands hastily, and goes to make tea, but he's not John, tea doesn't help him calm, and he starts pacing, silently tugging at his hair. His violin lies here, and he considers playing a bit, but leaves it. Then he thinks about experiments, but no, it all seems boring. So does books. There is of course a case, but he is stuck, and can't focus anyway.

Why, why, why has John has to took such a great place in both his head and heart? Mycroft always told him not to get attached. And he was, of course, right. Caring was not an advantage, as he kept saying. It only made everything unnecessarily messy and complicated.

He has no idea, how much time passed, occupied by bitter thoughts, pacing back and forth. He comes back to reality only when Hamish tuggs at his trousers leg, making him stop and look down.

Tiny boy looks at him with his huge, blue, John's eyes, and smiles so brightly, Sherlock somehow has to smile back. He lets Hamish lead him, and show him the tower he built – rather complicated and detailed, he really is very clever at his age. The boy seems to be sleepy, so Sherlock takes him into his arms with intent to take him to bed, but then his phone rings. It's Lestrade.

"You're needed." Says DI.

"I'm busy." Hamish put his head on his arm and is almost asleep. Sherlock curses in his mind at John and his date with atrocious Emma. He should've predicted that something will move forward with the case just when John will leave.

"Then don't be, and come here." Asks Lestrade, his voice on the border of desperate. "Another body was found. It's these studio's owner's sister this time."

"Her sister?" Sherlock is instantly interested. He knew it, it was obvious that it's all about these studio, but it was then different this time, not a client but member of the family?

"Yes. And no tattoos, no cuts."

"I'll be there in a minute." He says.

He'll have to take Hamish with him then. It's not like they didn't do it before, John took his son to the crime scene once or twice when Mrs. Hudson was unavailable, and surely he wouldn't mind if Sherlock did it now?

There is no time to reconsider it, so Sherlock sends a text to John, puts on his coat and hurries to catch a cab.