Lestrade and Donovan meets little Hamish.

He should never had let Sherlock onto the laptop. Here they were, two hours after breakfast, in a cab on their way to the Yard. Back on track, as Sherlock so nicely put it when he dressed Hamish in the little overall, and John actually had to agree with him. Two weeks of waiting might have been a exaggeration even for him. Several days bunkered up in the flat would eventually take a toll on his nerves, and Sherlock would probably be impossible to live with. This was for the best. Hamish sat between them in the cab, not a care in the world of were his fathers were taking him, he just seemed happy to be back in the carrier again.

"A week." John reminded him strictly for the third time during the ride. "A bloody week."

"Yes." Sherlock groaned, eyes locked on his phone and probably not even hearing him.

"I'm serious Sherlock. A whole week. I'm not changing him a single time." Nappy-changing was Sherlock punishment for breaking his promise and he easily agreed He was eventually going to break that promise as well and they both knew it. "So what did you find?" Getting back to the subject and Sherlock immediately seemed intrigued to speak. By lowering his phone John could tell that he already had his theories.

"Three men, hanged, a two days gap between, all three apartments flooded." He stopped in mid-sentence when he saw Hamish observing him and a skew smile appeared in his face as he crocked his eyebrow. "Did you hear that Hamish, your first case might just be a serial killer. What a start." He turned to John who was giving him that ridiculous smile that he loves. "Something to scribble down in the baby-book, don't you think?" The passing cars caught the doctors eye as he turned to the window laughing. It would certainly be some weird inputs in the book, first steps, first smile and first corps examination.

"Yes, Clara would be so delighted to read about how Hamish solved the 'Water gallows'." That was the first name that came to mind when he planned names for his blog-entry, but he could hear Sherlock snort, he did clearly not agree.

"Water gallows?" he mouthed but John could hear him clearly. "Were's your imagination?"

"Hangman?" Both Hamish and Sherlock yawned and John pressed his lips together when he realised none of them agreed. "No?" The detective closed his wide mouth and rubbed his eye.

"Let's solve the case before we name it, shall we?" he said and the cab drove in by the Yard. They payed the cabbie and Sherlock seized the carrier before he got out of the car. He slammed the door behind them and turned to the large grey building.

As always the officers where running around, asking each other stupid questions as they tried to solve simple crimes. Sherlock despited the first floor of the Yard, it was like looking at ants in an ant farm. Legwork and dirty work. A short elevator ride later and three floors higher they were finally knocking on D.I Lestrade's door. As always, Sherlock didn't wait for a welcoming but bursting into the office and ready for crime solving. Their friend was sitting by the computer, tapping the keys fanatically and to concentrated in his work to take his eyes of the screen.

"Ah, my consulting detective and the doctor. I was wondering when you would show up." He wrapped up his document and Sherlock moved over to the file lying on the desk behind the computer. "Three persons, ages 16, 18 and 35, hanged by the neck. Cause of death, suffocation."

"Well of course. They were hanged." Sherlock smirked and saw the photos of the bodies. There were traces of adhesive around their mouths an he came to a quick conclusion. "Were they still taped when you found them?" John joined his side and took the photo of the oldest man to examine it.

"Taped?" Lestrade asked and Sherlock took that as a no.

"Yes, you can clearly see here..." he started and placed the carrier on the desk so he could point at the picture, but in the next second, Lestrade's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.

"Is that a kid?" he nearly shouted and John looked up from the picture. The D.I couldn't believe his eyes as he saw the little infant in front of him. "Don't tell me this is one of your weird experiments." Sherlock was to busy investigating the file to even care about Lestrade's reactions, but John shook his head in disbelief.

"We.. we told you about it three months ago." he said with and unsure smile, eyebrows knitting together over his nose. Had the man honestly forgotten?

It had been that dreadfully warm summer evening. A corpse had been found in a container in an alley. It'd been lying there for days in the blazing sunlight, the smell had been to much for all of them and that was the only time Sherlock had complained about his strong senses, dry heaving behind a trash can when not even a handkerchief could cover up the horrible smell. Donovan and Anderson had them self an enjoyable laugh at him the rest of the evening. When Sherlock's urges finally came to an end Lestrade decided to buy them a beer to help Sherlock get the awful taste of stomach acid out of his mouth. That's when they told him about their upcoming parenthood, but Lestrade didn't seem interested in their news, he quickly got back on the case.

"I thought you were joking." Lestrade said after a long look at the child in front of him.

"Apparently not." Sherlock sighed and closed the file. "So, all the apartments were flooded..."

"Hang on!" Lestrade raised from his chair and took a good look at them both. "You two have some explaining to do. How can he be so alike you both? I mean... you both can't be the father..s?" The last 's' was put there due to Lestrade's ignorance of how this child actually came to exist. He, as everyone else, could see the resemblance little Hamish had to them both. But of course neither Sherlock or John could have been able to give birth to him, so Lestrade was confused.

"We was about to tell you everything about it, but you seemed more interested in the 'Dumpster-boy'." Yet another name of John's blog entries. Lestrade swallowed hard and scratched the back of his head as he tried to understand, and Sherlock seemed more interested in the case than explaining about Hamish's arrival to the world.

"That is hardly the end of it." Lestrade grinned and looked at the both men in the room. "You're parents! Who the hell saw that coming!?" Obviously, Lestrade was going to react like an other idiot and Sherlock sighed loudly, his head fell back as he did but John grabbed his arm.
"Calm down, Sherlock." he pleaded him and unbuckled the belts around Hamish's body. "The man is surprised. Do you wanna hold him." He gave Lestrade a questioning look and the D.I closed his mouth that had been hanging open. It was still hard for him to believe that the little boy actually existed. But when he was put in his hands and he felt the proof of him, a smile appeared on his face.

"Well look at you." he grinned. "What's his name?"

"Hamish." answered Sherlock and seemed to forgotten the files for the moment, to busy making sure that Lestrade didn't drop little Hamish. Greg's eyes widened when the little child yawned and he looked like he was about to melt in his presence. The room fell silent for a couple of minutes as the three grown men just held their breaths, somewhat a lousy try not to disturb the sleeping boy who on the other hand wasn't unknown to sleep past loud noises. But still, it seemed like something you did amongst small children.

"How can he be?" asked Greg suddenly and looked up from the child. "I mean, he's so like you Sherlock, but he clearly got your nose." He was looking at John, and soon pulled a face when he saw how his shoulders sank on his body like he'd just been punched in the chest. But the doctor quickly recovered, thinking about the promise he'd made himself earlier that morning when he felt Sherlock's warm hand around his wrist.

"It was John's sister who carried him." Sherlock explained to let John avoid bringing it up with own words. He knew how heartbreaking that was for him.

"Your sister?" the inspector exclaimed. "I didn't know you had one." And John bit his bottom lip and felt his eyebrows knit together as his face bundled up, just by those few words.

"Not any more." he said with a voice that didn't want to leave his throat, it came out not sounding like him. "She er... she was sick." The tears started to burn his eyes and he took a deep breath to calm himself from sorrow. "I'm sorry, can we just..." With a lot of effort he managed to force a smile to his lips and he blinked a couple of times before he turned to Greg again. "I don't really want to go into that right now."

The door flew open and Donovan appeared, buttoning her coat in a hurry.

"Sir, there's been another murder!" she started and looked up from her working fingers when her eyes suddenly darkened. "Oh, it's you two..." The hatred was still there. Five years and she still despited the couple more than anything. Then she saw the baby and she pushed the door until it was wide open. "What the hell is that!?" Greg looked just as irritated as the other two men and he placed Hamish in Sherlock's arms so they could strap him back into the carrier. "You're letting him hold it!?" Sally stared at the 'freak' in the room and John thought that any second now she would pull the child out of his arms to 'save' him from him.

"Of course." said Greg and reached for his jacker on the hanger. "It's his." A small laugh was heard from the sergeant and she turned to walk away. But John knew, that as quick as the chance was given to her, she would explain exactly what her thoughts was about this, but as long as Lestrade was close to them, she didn't have the courage.

"Well then." Sherlock said happily and placed Hamish in the carrier. "Text me the address and we'll meet you there."

The doctor glanced at his husband beside him in the cab who was looking at his phone, searching the web for god knows what and didn't seem care at all about Sgt. Donovan's dreadful reactions to Sherlock's new title. Father. John would never forget the look on her face. She was actually prepared to snatch the baby from his arms only a moment later if Greg hadn't told her that he belonged to Sherlock. Was her suspicion about him that strong that she really thought that he was capable of hurting an infant? What did she think Sherlock would do to him? And then the laugh, the awful laugh filled with discredit and almost a joy, like she was looking forward to see them fail.

"What's wrong?" Sherlock suddenly asked without looking up from his phone and John turned his head to face him fully.

"What?"

"You're eying me like a hawk. Something is clearly bothering you." Fingers worked quickly over the screen and John was amazed of that he could talk and type at the same time.

"What are you doing?" he asked as a try to change the subject but Sherlock wasn't going to let him slip off that easy.

"You've been awfully quiet since we left the Yard. What's on your mind?" To the doctors surprise, Sherlock lowered his phone and faced him, putting all his concentration at him. There was no use to hide it from him, he might as well come clean.

"It's just.. that Donovan." he sighed and caressed his forehead. Just her name made Sherlock groan irritably.

"Why put your energy on her when there's a serial killer to find?" he asked him and blew the curls out if his eyes. "Haven't I told you not to care about what other people think?"

"I don't care about what she thinks. I care about what she says!" said John sharply and shut his eyes tight. "It never bothered me when she threw out her thought about you and me but... if she's going to talk bad about Hamish I don't think I will be able to look past it." Sherlock flinched and tugged the belt when his whole upper body turned to the doctor. A sudden hatred that had been on ice for many years started to fire up inside him. Donovan was an idiot that he'd been ignoring, but, if her words about his son turned bad he was not going to ignore her any more.

"Do you think she will?" he growled and his blue-green eyes pierced deeply into John who now was observing their sleeping son.

"I think she will as soon as Lestrade's not in hearing distance." he answered him truthfully as the cab drove into the alley. "As she always does."

Sherlock was the first one out of the car, quickly looking over the area for any thing out of the ordinary. Water was flooding down the short stair leading into the building and he saw the officers closing down the premisses. Two seconds later, he was inside and John was left to pay the cabby. He stepped out with the carrier in his hand when he heard the annoying voice.

"So, what stupid sod left the kid with you two?" Cheeks were burning when he turned to the woman and his jaw looked itself from saying all the bad words that needed out. "How long do you think you'll keep him before the social service snatches him out of your hands?"

"You clearly don't know what you're talking about, Sally." he said in a warning tone but the woman didn't catch it. She crossed her arms with a laugh and wobbled back and forth on her feet like if her confidence put her off balance.

"Oh don't I? I've seen you running around the crime scenes for years. I can't understand why you married that freak when he still treats you like shit. Is he still running off on you?" The doctor felt his hand curl up into a rock hard fist and his stare didn't let Donovan out of sight, he didn't even blink. "How long do you think you will be able to keep him? A week? Or do you think you'll last even that long?" The next second passed without John realising, Donovan was pressed to the brick wall behind them and Hamish was safely placed on the ground beside him. Nails were digging into her wrist and his other hand grasped painfully around her shoulder. He didn't care if what he did was wrong or if others were watching, this needed to be done.

"I never care when you speak badly about me or Sherlock!" he growled and Donovan's eyes grew large as saucers. "But damn you Sally if you start to talk trash about how we take care of our son. Your getting into an area were you don't belong so keep your mouth shut." The woman opened her mouth to speak but John didn't want to hear her voice. "Don't you dare, Sally. Don't you dare." He gave her a light shove to the wall behind her before he released her limbs. Still not letting her out of sight he picket up the carrier. He didn't care about her tears, he didn't care about the officers that had witnessed the scene. The only thing he cared about now was Hamish, and no one was going to hurt Hamish.

Sherlock saw how John pushed the woman up against the wall and the man hanging from the roof lost all it's importance, he needed to get to John. Even Lestrade had seen it and were at Sherlock's heels down the stairs. They didn't make it far before John met them up in the small corridor, looking like he was about to punch a hole in the wall.
"John!?" shouted Sherlock worriedly and received the carrier before John stormed off into the public toilets at the end of the hall. "What happened?" The door slammed behind him and Greg stood frozen beside the detective. Sherlock looked down on Hamish who was deeply asleep under his blanket before he stepped over to the door, giving it a careful knock. "John?" The water was running freely, he couldn't hear what John was doing. "John?" he tried again and the tap was shut.

"Just give me a minute." he groaned and fell down on the lid of the toilet. Deep breaths, deep breaths, he told himself. He wouldn't let the tears fall, he wouldn't let his left hand tremble, he wouldn't let Donovan get into his mind. That damn woman.

"John? Please." There was a tone of desperation in his dark voice.

"Just a bloody minute!" he shouted angrily and pulled his hair by the roots. Then he heard the cries coming from the other side of the door and he bundled up his face into a painful grimace.

Sherlock picked him up from the carrier and swaddled him in the blanked before putting him on his chest. If John was having a fit of panic in there, he wanted to be in there to hold him, he needed John to let him do that. But John had so strictly told him that Hamish's needs went before everything else right now so he put all the attention to calm him.

"It's okay." he cooed and rocked him gently. "Don't worry, daddy will be out in a second." But Hamish screamed loudly into the crock of his neck, probably picking up that something was wrong with his father. The DI tried to catch a look down the corridor out on the street. He'd seen exactly what Sherlock had seen and he knew about the nicknames she had for them. But he'd never been there for her accusations and harsh words. The lock on the door clicked and John pushed it open, looking more like a solider than a doctor. Face strict and head held high, Sherlock had seen him like this before but not Lestrade. It was a face he carried whenever he forced himself to be strong and block out all the feelings.

"What happened?" asked Lestrade quickly and saw how he reached out for the bundle in Sherlock's arms. The father opened his jacket and held him to the warmth of his chest before he released a hugh breath.

"Let's just crack on." he sighed and felt Sherlock's warm hand upon his shoulder. The touch from him was always comforting and John started to put the event behind him. But, he gave Greg a warning stare, signalling him not to ask any questions, and Greg didn't. Both he and Sherlock knew that John wouldn't lay a hand on someone who didn't deserve it.

They were back at Baker street with a cranky Hamish, hungry and tired and way to much overstimulation from all moving around the last four hours. In other words, he was not happy at all.

"Next time we're leaving him with mrs Hudson. This was a stupid idea." muttered John and placed the child among the many blankets on the sofa. His small arms and legs were flailing as he wailed out in anger and hunger.

"Oh, I think he will manage." said Sherlock and continued to tap away on his laptop which he'd done from the moment they'd entered the flat. "He needs to learn." John swaddled the boy and picked him up in his arms to give him the bottle. He knew how eager Sherlock was to train the boy but what was the use now when Hamish couldn't even lift his head.

"He can wait a couple of months for that." John sighed as the crying came to an end and his face went calm. "There you go. One problem out of the way." Sherlock growled and uploaded the pictures from his phone to the laptop. They'd decided to examine photos rather then stay at the crime scene for hours, Hamish wouldn't agree to be away from home such a long time.

"I think I've got a name for your blog entry." he said suddenly with a smirk and turned the screen to John. "See here?" The sole of a foot was staring back at him and he squinted to get a better view. The skin was blue, almost black and John had seen this before.

"That's frostbites." he exclaimed and Sherlock picked up the laptop to sit down beside him on the sofa. The picture became clearer and the doctor closed in on it to see the wounds and marks. "It's like he's been standing in snow for hours."

"Yes, but the water was steaming hot." said the detective and touched his lips as he observed the picture. "The killer left them on ice block. The victim stood with the rope around his neck, just waiting for the ice to melt. He gave himself a head start." He looked fascinated by his discovery.

"A head start for what?" John asked and Sherlock chuckled happily.

"Maybe he needed to be somewhere else while his victim died. He hung two feet above the floor, let's say he stood on a block half a feet higher that that. It would take at lest three hours for the ice to melt before the snare would start to choke him. But with all that hot water quickening the process it must have taken less than an hour. What do you think?" John swallowed hard and pondered.
"The block must have been higher and bigger, those wounds doesn't happen under an hour. I would say two." Sherlock loved hearing his husband using his medical skills to solve crimes, it was one of the sexiest things his he could do. It always set Sherlock's body on fire.

"And that is why I love you." he said quickly and clicked on the next picture while John giggled. "What about this then?" The victims face showed up. Oddly, there wasn't a single bruise or cut on his face, just a redness around his lips. Probably a reaction to the tape that had been smothering him. "It doesn't make any sense. None of the bodies were taped when they were found, but the evidence is there that they have been. They must have been taped when they died because no one heard them shouting for help." John frowned.

"You think the murdered came back later to remove it?" Sherlock didn't answer, he was to busy pondering and John decided not to bother him. After all, Hamish needed to be put to bed so he retreated to the bedroom. He let out a small cry when John removed the empty bottle from his lips and he placed him up on his shoulder to burp him. They'd just changed his sheets and he wanted them to be clean from throw-ups just for a couple of days. There was a small crack, and he turned to the door to see Sherlock standing in the frame. Something was wrong with him, all signs of curiosity and joyfulness of having a crime to solve seemed to have left him.

"I can't..." he started and smothered a hand across his chest, flicking his fingers over the buttons that was barely holding his shirt together.

"Are you alright?" John asked him and the detective crossed the room to get to him. He looked worried, angry, something was bothering his else wise very organised mind, scrambling it around.

"Tell me what happened with Donovan." he pleaded and John's stomach turned by the name only. "Please." But Hamish needed to be put to bed, so he told Sherlock to wait. His husband didn't leave the bedroom when he tucked in their son under the blanket. That's when John saw the skull at the end of the cot. He'd noticed that it had left the mantle piece some time during the week, but how long had it been in the presence of Hamish?

"What is this doing here?" he asked and picked up Sherlock's 'friend'. But Sherlock snatched it out of his hands and placed it back on the cot.

"It's looking after him." he answered shortly and pulled the small socks of the tiny feet. "Just, let i be." Sherlock wasn't superstitious, but the skull was important to him. It had looked after and protected him those years he'd lived alone and it was Hamish turn to have him as a friend. "His feet are cold." His big hands folded around them and the boy cooed silently, probably enjoying the warmth and touch from his father.

"Hello!?" A voice shouted from the sitting room and they knew it was Greg. An hour early and Sherlock could feel the smell of cheesecake before he'd even left the bedroom. He would never understand the need of buying sweets or pastries whenever you were invited somewhere. And he didn't even like cheesecake. John ran off to receive him and Sherlock was left alone in the room with Hamish, pulling the blanket closer to his face.

"Daddy might not understand, but the skull here will take care of you when we're not around. There's no need to be sceptical about him, he's very quiet and a good listener."

"We need to talk about what happened at the crime scene." said Lestrade suddenly after swallowing the last mouthful of tea and John froze in his chair. Without noticing, his left hand started to tremble and the tea spilled over the brim of the cup. The trembling had been coming and going more frequently since his sisters death and he was unable to control it. He put down the cup and hid it under the table before any of them saw him shaking. "I talked to Donovan. But I want to hear your version of it too." The room fell silent except for Sherlock smattering with his fingers against the table. John cleared his throat and dropped his gaze down in his drink, he didn't want to look at any of them. Yet, he didn't regret his doing. "I know she always has a way of getting to your nerves but... it must have been quite out of the ordinary to push her up against the wall."

"Is she going to press charges?" Sherlock asked and and noticed John's trembling hand under the table since he was sitting next to him. He grasped it and entwined their fingers to calm him.

"Of course not, there was no harm done. But I need to know what happened, since... it occurred during work hours. What did she say?" John's head went blank for a moment and he brushed a finger over his eyebrow before meeting Lestrade's stare.

"You've hear her." he began with a voice slightly weaker than his. "How she's always throwing out her opinions and deductions about us." Greg nodded and swallowed another spoon of cheesecake.

"Yes, but there's no need to go violent. Is there?"

"She crossed the line." John answered and crumpled the napkin with his free hand, squeezing it firmly until it was as hard as the wood it once was.

"How much?" It was now Sherlock who brought up the questions and John licked his dry lips.

"She was questioning me of how long we thought we would be able to keep him before the social service will take him. And, who could be so stupid to leave him with us." The DI's eyes darkened and so did Sherlock's. John quickly regretted his confession since this would definitely bring Sherlock into a bad mood rest of the evening.

"Well, just another proof that Donovan is an idiot." said the detective when a cry was heard from the bedroom. "I'll get him." He released his trembling hand and hurried out of the room when Lestrade cut up another piece of the cheesecake for himself.

"Donovan can be quite an arse from time to time, but i did not expect this from her." A deep breath filled John's lungs and he lifted his head again. "She said she'd crossed the line but I knew how far."

"It was mostly the heat of the moment." said John and eased his grip around the napkin that was damp of his sweat. Greg took his chance to ask John the question he didn't dare to say in front of Sherlock.

"So how is he?" Lestrade asked while chewing the cake. "As a father I mean?" A smile twitched his lips and he quickly forgot about the horrible woman. "I have always wondered how he would be."

"He's brilliant. He treats Hamish like any other human being and tries to treat him like a grown up. Accept that he forgets himself sometimes and slips into baby talk." They laughed lowly and saw how Sherlock entered the kitchen with Hamish on his chest.

"There's the lad of the evening." Lestrade exclaimed and reached for his bag on the floor. "I've got him a present." A small box was placed on the tablecloth and Sherlock frowned.

"He's to little to understand gifts." he said and John chuckled when he saw his face.

"It's what people do, Sherlock. Get used to it."

"Can I hold him?" Greg asked and Sherlock didn't hesitate this time. Lestrade had proven his qualities the last he held him and had earned the privilege to do it once more. Greg took him and immediately his voice raised two octaves.

"Hello Hamish." he chirped and John stood up to tend to the dishes when Sherlock pushed him down on the chair again. "Well you've gotten cuter since the last time I saw you."

"Impossible." Sherlock smirked and to John's surprise, he was the one to take care of the dishes for once. "Why don't you unwrap the gift, John?" The doctor reached for the small velvet box and untied the little blue bow around it. On the other side of the table, Greg was still playing with the half awake Hamish.

"First crime scene today and everything. There will be more of those, can be sure of it. With a daddy like Sherlock it's most likely that you will see more bodies than any other little boy."

"Oh, I'm dad. John's daddy." Lestrade looked up at Sherlock who was drying his wet hands on the towel. "Or father and dad, we haven't decided that yet." The lid came off and a little key appeared.

"What is this?" John asked and picked it up.

"I've got him a bike." Lestrade grinned. "I know it's early, but I thought, since Sherlock can't ride one you'll probably never get him one." John flinched and held back his giggling.

"You can't ride a bike?" he asked and turned to his husband who was about to kill Greg with his death stare. He didn't need to answer the question. "Why not? You never learned?"

"Thank you Lestrade. A great gift he can't use for years." he cheered ironically and Greg grinned. "And don't mock me. I was to busy doing other things than learn to bike." But Greg continued to laugh without taking his eyes of the boy.

"You have a very weird dad, Hamish. It wouldn't surprise me if he couldn't even swim." Sherlock tossed the towel on the counter and pulled the full plate away from Greg, even if he knew that he planned to finnish it.

"Of course I can swim." he muttered.

Please excuse my lack of writing skills in this chapter, and as you might notice I am really bad at writing detective stories. Hope you don't mind. I just kind of wanted to get this chapter over with so I can begin with an older Hamish. (much more fun) But I needed this chapter so the relationship between Hamish, Lestrade and Donovan would be clear for upcoming events.