CHAPTER 70. Treasure
"You blacked out." The young blond boy stated with a frown, examining the pale man's face while he leaned in towards the now wide awake stranger.
"Not the first time, or the last I guess." Sherlock sat up his left side hurt and he winced.
"Uncle Myc is worried." The boy made a face, helping to push pillows under the tall man.
"You are a secret agent aren't you? Just like James Bond." Hamish kept his voice low.
"Should you be in here?"
"No, I'm supposed to be napping. However I heard you talking in your sleep. Did you have a bad dream?" The boy climbed onto the bed causing Sherlock to wince from the shifting movements.
The younger Holmes realized he wasn't wearing a shirt, someone had tended the wound in his side and properly dressed it.
"Sorry." The boy grimaced. "Do you want some water? Are you hungry? Sometimes after I've been hurt or I get sick. I moved the bin closer to the bed in case."
"That was thoughtful of you." Sherlock leaned back into the headboard of the four post bed.
Sherlock glanced around in disgust he was in the guest bedroom, the younger boy was holding a water bottle under his nose.
"Thanks." Sherlock mumbled taking it gratefully.
"You're my Uncle." The boy smiled sitting indian style facing Sherlock, he sat with his knees close to Sherlock's hips. "I heard you call Uncle Myc brother. So that means you're my Uncle. Where have you been?" the boy itched the side of his nose.
"On a secret mission." Sherlock grumbled sarcastically, however the tone was lost on Hamish.
"I knew it! I knew you were a secret agent. I want to be a secret agent."
"It's not as exciting as it sounds."
"What's your name?" Hamish asked.
"Sherlock Holmes." The injured man replied glancing briefly at the blond four year old whose face lit up.
"That's impossible you're dead." Hamish leaned in and whispered.
"Hardly." Sherlck tossed the empty bottle of water into the bin near the bed.
"My father told me about you." Hamish shifted biting his lip, "if you're not dead does that mean the bad guys aren't dead either?"
Sherlock frowned he tried to deduce the boy, taking in every detail he may have missed.
"Dad said that you died saving the world from a bad man. And he said you were a geni-" The boy made a face.
"Genius?" Sherlock corrected and Hamish nodded eagerly.
"That's it! He said that."
"What else did he say about me?"
"He said uhmm-" the young blond tapped a finger to his cheek rolling his eyes back trying to think.
"He said you were the world's greatest detective even better than Uncle Greg!"
"That's not a stretch." Sherlock huffed.
"Hey Uncle Greg is pretty smart. Aunt Molly thinks he's the smartest man in Scotland Yard."
"Scotland Yard is an idiot farm."
Hamish giggled, "I think my dad will be happy to see you." Hamish fiddled with a small hole in his jeans. "He's been sad a lot."
Sherlock glanced over the boy wondering over the observation skills of the four going on five year old. "He doesn't cry or anything and he doesn't show it, but I can tell. I think he'll be happy again when he sees you. Like a birthday present you never thought you'd get. Like a puppy, or something."
Sherlock sighed. "I'm not so sure."
"He will be. You'll see. " Hamish frowned "The doctor who came here to fix you didn't do a good job."
The boy pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, "It's bleeding see." He didn't flinch from the sight of blood, this was interesting. Sherlock could see the kerchief was a blue cotton one. "Uncle Myc says you never know when you'll need one. He gave me some to go with my nice clothes."
Sherlock accepted the kerchief it couldn't be exactly sanitary but at the chance of not hurting the child's feelings. He glanced down at the bandages the blood was indeed leaking through.
"Ah, I bet he makes you go to the Opera."
The boy nodded quickly, "Yeah and it's boring but dad says it will give me color?"
"Culture." Sherlock corrected rolling his eyes.
"Yes! Culture!" Hamish smiled "that's the word. He said it's good to go do things with Uncle Myc. But it's not all so bad." Hamish sighed eying Sherlock's bandages. "He took me to see a play with Hansel and Gretel we had the perfect seats and after we got to go back stage to meet the actors. It was fun!"
Sherlock grumbled. "He never took me to a play. Just dumb operas."
"Oh, you can come next time."
"Boring."
"Suit yourself." Hamish shrugged, reminding Sherlock of John so much it made is heart hurt.
"Do you want me to call the doctor? I wish my dad was here. Dad should look at those. He's really good. Uncle Greg cut himself on broken glass in the kitchen yesterday and Dad fixed it up right over the sink. He didn't cry."
"Blood doesn't bother you?"
Hamish shrugs again, "No, but it doesn't bother my dad either." He said proudly.
"Why was there broken glass?"
"We got home and the window was broken, Uncle Greg came over to make sure it wasn't a robber. Who would want to rob us? Our telly is tiny. We don't even have an xbox. Dad doesn't like them."
Sherlock wiped the sweat accumulating on his forehead, he felt like the flu was coming on. Why indeed. Sherlock suddenly needed to see the police report, broken glass from the kitchen window, sounded like a break in. However Hamish said nothing was stolen. Was it Moran? Did he think Sherlock was still around? Could he be under the impression the consulting detective wasn't dead.
"Can I tell you a secret?" Sherlock whispered leaning over towards the boy, holding back a wince in pain.
Hamish nodded eagerly, "Yeah."
"I know where there is a treasure buried."
"Really!"
"Yes, but the pirates who buried it wouldn't want it going to just anyone."
"Well me and Tommy aren't just anyone. Tommy is really good at math and can play the trumpet."
"Ah, I take it that this Tommy is your first mate?"
Hamish smiled brightly "Yes he is. He's older but he's my best friend."
"Well in that case I can tell you where the map is. Will Tommy be back over?"
"Yes tomorrow, Uncle Myc promised us the museum and he said I can have Tommy come along. Will you be going too?"
"Museums are boring. But I'll tell you what, as soon as I get out of here and finish my business I'll show you were the map is and perhaps you and your first mate can find it."
"Deal!" Hamish put his hand out and Sherlock shook it.
"Hamish Sigerson Watson!" A woman's voice called from just down the hall.
"Oh, it's the British Navy. I better go. I'm supposed to be napping. Goodbye Uncle." The boy climbed off the bed and headed for the door that connected to Sherlock's. The consulting detective realized this was the same room he had stayed in when he last visited his father.