New chapter! Holy sweet lord of the rings! It's been a while hasn't it?

Hope you'll enjoy and next chapter will be up soon enough!

As soon as Hamish laid wound in blankets in his bed, lightly snoring with the t-rex and skull safely placed on the bureau, watching over him as he slept, John sat down by the table with a cup of tea in his hand and searched the web. Six tabs was up with information about adoption and surrogacy and he found himself smiling when he started to realise what he was doing exactly. He tore his gaze from the bright screen and saw Sherlock on the other side of the table, mirroring him with a computer and a cup of tea.

"What are you doing?" he asked with a smile and shuffled his foot over the floor and bumped into the tip of Sherlock's slipper. The detective swallowed a mouth of tea and shook his head.

"You know, just.. looking up some recipes."

"Not on cakes and cookies I suppose." John smirked and managed to get the slipper off the large foot so he could feel the warm skin against his own but he stumbled into a nasty surprise. "Jesus christ, you're cold as death!" He kicked the slipper back. "Here, take this back on." Sherlock laughed and shoved his foot into the fluffy insides again. "You're sleeping with socks on tonight 'cause I'm not getting stabbed with those toes under the cover." Sherlock just kept on smiling, drinking his tea.

"Mould-growing." he suddenly said and John looked up from his screen again.

"What?"
"You asked me what kind of recipes, moulds." The doctor shook his head and smirked.
"Of course." he sighed and rubbed a hand over his face.

"You?" The air quickly disappeared from the room when they both realised that Sherlock already knew the answer to that. "So..." That dark voice reached into the deepest places of John and he shivered as Sherlock braided his fingers together and leaned his chin to his heaved up arms. The doctor was in love all over again.

"So.." he repeated and crossed his arms, looked over the computer at his husband who eyed him intensely. "Another child?" Sherlock gave him a crocked smile and raised an eyebrow. "This isn't as easy as buying a piano you know."

"I know." Sherlock answered him calmly, voice gone darker and vibrating. "A child is more intimate, isn't it? I must confess, these last couple of weeks, taking care of Hamish I... miss the feeling of holding a newborn." John bit back a smile, feeling more and more like he did when Sherlock proposed, giggly and warm and he wanted to savour it.

"And what does that feel like?" he asked and felt himself blush. His husband gave a small hum and rubbed his hands together.

"I don't need to explain, you've felt it yourself."

"You mean that warm cuddly feeling?" John asked. "When you just wanna crawl down in the cradle with it, bury your nose in the velvety hair, feel those little finger wound around you own." John wasn't the only one in the room blushing anymore.

"Exactly." he smiled and tried not to sound to embarrassed. "And I just don't want to imagine it anymore, I want it to happen."

The computer closed with a click and John raised from his chair and padded around the table. Sherlock turned in his chair and embraced him as he straddled his lap. John pecked his face with kisses and stroke his soft curls, smelled the oils and pine before he embraced him again.

"So a baby girl then?" he asked and shivered by the touch of Sherlock's hand on his neck.

"Hamish's right." he murmured. "There are to many boys inhabiting this flat." John chuckled and pressed his lips against his. "A little girl would be interesting. Not to mention wonderful."

"I have to say, Sherlock Holmes, I never saw you as a family-man." the doctor murmured into his parted lips.

"Neither did I." he answered and kissed John's jaw, huffed his hot breath to his skin. "But you, John Watson, turned me into one."

The day Hamish turned five rain was bombarding the streets like spears. But Hamish didn't care about the weather, nothing could pull him out of the spirit of being a year older. He didn't wait for his fathers to come wake him with breakfast in bed. No, he had decided to turn the tradition around. Five a.m Sherlock was pulled out of his sleep by a rattling tray and his boy singing.

"Happy birthday to me. Happy birthday to me..." and John started to giggle into his pillow.

"You're a real tosser, handsome." he yawned and rolled over on his back and stretched his back. The tray landed on the bureau by the window and Sherlock could just imagine what a mess the boy had made in the kitchen and what a horrible meal he could expect on that tray.

"Give me my gifts!" he suddenly shouted and jumped into the bed and landed between them, making the mattress sway and the boy bounced up and down.

"Now you're sounding spoiled!" John warned and Hamish laughed.

"It's my birthday! I'm supposed to be spoiled today!"

"Jesus christ." Sherlock groaned and pulled the boy down in the bed, cradled him to his chest and took a deep calming breath. "It's five a.m, handsome. I fell asleep two hours ago, I am not leaving this bed for at least three more. Now, go back to sleep."

"But I made you breakfast!" Hamish shouted, voice muffled by his father's chest. "Cereals and everything!"

"Did you poor in milk?"

"... no.."

"Then it can wait." Sherlock yawned and pulled the cover over them both. "You'll have your gifts shortly, but for now, more sleep." The boy groaned loudly and tossed and turned between them.

"Just one!" he begged and shook John by the arm. "Daddy, please!" With a loud tired moan, John grasped the little boy by the neck and pulled him down to his chest, hugged him hard and pecked his face with kisses.

"Happy birthday, love." he murmured and ruffled his short hair. "Finally five, huh? Almost old enough for a drivers licence." Hamish giggled and pulled at his t-shirt.

"Please daddy, just one little gift." he begged and cupped his father's face. "One tiny little gift, so I can go back to sleep again."

"You won't go back to sleep again." Sherlock murmured with his back facing them. "You'll only get more excited"

"Please!" Hamish continued. "Please, please, please!"

"No."

"PLEASE!" he whined and kicked John in the thigh. "Please! Just one!" Sherlock groaned and rolled over on his back, rubbed a hand over his face.

"Just give it to him." he sighed and Hamish was suddenly very alert.

"Yes! Yes! Give me a gift!" he shouted and John opened his eyes, glanced at Sherlock and reached out for his hand.
"Really?" he asked and Sherlock squeezed his hand and nodded. Then John reached for the small envelope in the top drawer of his nightstand. It was bright white with a red seal and Hamish's name was beautifully written on the front. But the boy stared at it in disappointment.

"A letter?" he asked and studied the item in his hands. Sherlock crawled closer and John reached out his arm to pull him into his embrace, kissed his temple while Hamish rested on his chest. "Who's it from?" His fathers stayed quiet and the boy grew suspicious about this mysterious letter. He broke the red seal and pulled out the small piece of paper in black and white, only getting more confused as he stared at the outlines. "What is it?"

"Can't you tell?" Sherlock asked and stroke his fingers through his hair and smiled happily at his son's furrowed brow. He turned the picture over and shook his head. There were no words, nothing what so ever left in the envelope and he looked up at John.

"What is it?" John grinned and took his hand, kissed his fingers and sighed.

"It's a bean." he answered happily and the boy froze on his chest, flicked his gaze between his fathers and the picture, still not quite understanding what he was looking at. "Inside a help-mommy." Suddenly things started to scramble together in Hamish's little head and he whimpered as he looked at the picture again.

"It's my sister!?" he exclaimed and looked at Sherlock with big glittering eyes.
"Or a brother, we can't tell yet." he answered and Hamish sat up on John stomach, still to shocked to be excited. He observed the outline of the baby's head, saw the small nose and chin and soon enough a smile appeared on is lips.

"It's got a nose." he giggled. "Is the bean turning human already?" Sherlock grinned and pulled him down between them so they could look at the picture together.

"It's getting there." he smiled and pointed with a slender finger on the picture. "Look there, can you see the small arm?" Hamish nodded and giggled happily again. "And there's the feet. It's not bigger than this right now." The detective showed with his hands and Hamish watched with interest.

"So small?" he asked and looked at John who had a more medical intellect. "How small will it be when it gets here?"

"Oh, maybe something like this." he said and showed him. "I thought we could look at some pictures later. From the first days we had you." Hamish nodded fanatically.

"Yes, please! I wanna see how small I was!"

"Later." Sherlock murmured and kissed the top of his son's head. "You gonna be a big brother, handsome. That's a big responsibility." The little boy was quiet for a moment, just staring at the picture with big eyes and Sherlock and John found themselves doing the same thing. This little baby would be the new edition the the family in two months. They'd found a suitable 'help-mommy' with Mycroft's help with was more than happy to get another little nephew or niece. A twenty-seven-year-old woman who needed money for educations. A nice woman who'd stumbled upon the joy of pregnancy when she was nineteen. She'd carried three kids and Mycroft had now promised to pay her dearly for their sake. This little baby on the picture Hamish so happily held, was either Sherlock's or John's, bets had been made upon whose its was going to be.

"The help-mommy is coming by tomorrow so you can feel your little sister or brother kick." John explained. "She's a nice girl. Dark hair like your dad, blue eyes, this baby might look very much like us."

"Hopefully blond." Sherlock smiled and pressed a kiss to Hamish's temple. "And hopefully not my curls." John laughed and embraced them both.

"I love you two." he grinned and Hamish was squashed between their chests, giggling and cuddling close into Sherlock's chest. "Soon three. I don't think you've ever seen a newborn, Hamish. Are you excited?"

"Of course I am!" Hamish exclaimed almost a little hurt that his father needed to ask such a question. "I'm gonna be a big brother! How cool is that!? What are we gonna call him or her? Can I decide?" Sherlock laughed and could just imagine what names that boy wanted to call their new baby. He was sure that if Hamish could chose which ever name he wanted, their baby would be named Dorothy or Tin-man, not a name Sherlock fancied.

"We'll see." he said and kissed the little fingers stroking the picture. "We'll make a list with different names I guess. See which one fits him or her best."

"Did you have a list for me?" Hamish asked and blinked as the tiredness sneaked back on him, caught him by surprise and he yawned loudly between them.

"We didn't need a list for you. We just gave you the best name in the world." John smiled and wounded the duvet around them both.

"It's your name, daddy." Hamish giggled and snuggled close to his neck and took a deep breath of his father's smell.

"The best name in the world." John repeated and kissed the top of his head, stole the picture out of his hand and placed it aside. "Let's sleep some more, alright. You don't wanna be tired when the lot get's here." Exactly what Hamish needed to hear to get excited again.
"Can I tell them?" he asked. "Can I!? Please!" Eyes wide as saucers and glittering with anticipation and joy. Both parents were shocked. People that Hamish still didn't speak to would attend this afternoon and now Hamish wanted to tell them. He needed a voice for that and Sherlock beamed. Maybe this was what he needed to get braves. No little boy would feel so grown up as when they became big brother.

"Well it's your birthday present." he murmured. "Wouldn't it be mean of us if we told them?"

"Yes it would!" Hamish exclaimed and sat up, stared at them both with two sharp, blue eyes. Pinning them to the bed while he gave them one, very important rule for the evening. "Nobody say a thing!" The detective bit down hard not to giggle but failed not to smile. That stare was actually threatening, this little boy would be just as good as him to manipulate people to get what he wanted in the future.

"Of course not!" John laughed and pulled him down between them again. He landed with a low thud on the pillow and squirmed into place once more, making himself ready for more sleep.

"You two are gonna be daddies again." he smiled proudly like he'd just discovered something. "I really hope it's a girl."

"Me too." John murmured into his dark nest of hair. "I really do."

Sherlock was the first one to wake up as the sun had finally risen and shined through the window. Hamish laid upon his chest and had left a moist stain of drool on his t-shirt as he snored silently, nuzzling close to his neck and his small hand buried in his curls. It was a wonderful sight to see him sleep so deep and Sherlock traced a finger over his cheekbone and could hardly understand that this boy had been in their arms for five years today. That this was the same little child he'd once been terrified of holding was now the most precious thing he owned. He pressed his lips to the top of his head and placed his arms around his tiny body, imagined that soon he would be holding an even smaller person in his arms and his smile turned painfully wide. Hopefully a little baby girl. Oh how he would hate the puberty years with her, he thought and giggled silently. Worth it though, a little girl was something they needed in this flat, Hamish needed someone to learn responsibility out of. A cat wasn't enough.

"Hamish?" he whispered and shook his shoulder. "Handsome?" The boy stirred on his chest and hummed tiredly. "Time to get up." Hamish sniffled and fluttered his eyes open, stared confusedly into Sherlock's chest and swallowed. But as soon as the fog cleared in his blue-green eyes and big head he only had one request.

"I wanna look at photos." he mumbled and nuzzled close to Sherlock's neck, tugged his curls and yawned. "I wanna see me as a baby."

"We are." Sherlock whispered and twinned the short strands of dark hair that adorned Hamish's head. "Should we make some breakfast?" Hamish lifted his heavy head and Sherlock loved seeing him like this, face swollen from the deep sleep and hairs in every direction, eyes half lidded and lips parted.
"What about daddy?" he croaked and scratched his head.

"He'll wake up eventually." the detective smiled. "What do you want?" The boy pondered for a few second before he yawned a second time.
"Scones with cream and jam." he answered and Sherlock pursed his lips.

"Then we better wake daddy." he groaned and kicked his husband in the shin. "John!?" The doctor stirred and rolled over on his side. "John! Our boy's hungry!"

"Then make him breakfast." John hummed into the pillow and pulled the duvet over his head.
"He wants scones." Sherlock explained, something that John actually could make better than him.

"I want scones!" Hamish shouted and tossed himself over his daddy, poked him in the sides and his tummy. "Daddy! Dad only make gross once."

"You heard him John." Sherlock smirked. "I'm useless at this." John groaned and seized the boy by his arms and pulled him into his embrace.

"It's not the only thing you're useless at." he reminded and Hamish giggled.

"Daddy, I'm hungry. And I wanna look at photos! You promised!" John yawned and grabbed Hamish's sides, hoisted him up high above and the boy shrieked happily and kicked his legs.

"Put me down!" he laughed. "Put me down! Daddy!" John laughed and lowered him to his chest again, kiss his face over and over until the boy was screaming in joy. "NO! Don't!" Yucky!"

"Yucky?" John asked and cupped his face to look at him. "What d'you mean yucky? Kisses are not yucky! There'll be a lot of kisses today, birthday-boy."

"If you only knew, handsome." Sherlock smiled and scooted close to them both. "Every one's gonna kiss the birthday-boy!" Hamish scoffed and slid down under the cover, pouting as he pulled the cover over his head.

"I don't want any kisses!" he shouted muffled by the mattress.

"It's kisses in exchange for presents, handsome." John smirked and placed a hand upon his head. "Now, get up! We have a lot to do! Scones with cream and jam was it?"

Sherlock sat in front of the shelves on the floor while John made the dough for the bread. Hamish sat in his lap and watched as his father's slim finger tracked the back of the many books to find what he was looking for. A blue and white book that Clara had given them before Hamish was born to fill with Hamish's early days and he found it next to some of his note books he'd used to keep track on other things in Hamish's growth that John thought was unimportant for the baby book.

"Aha!" he said and pulled it out. "Here we are." His son took the book and stared at it. There was a picture of a drawn baby boy laying swaddled in a basket on the stairs to a house. The back cracked as he opened it and it was filled to the brim with pictures and notes.

"Is that me!" he exclaimed and pointed at the square photo of a small, pink baby in a plastic cot.

"Yes." Sherlock giggled and realised it'd been years since he watched these pictures. "You weren't more than an hour here. Clara took that picture for us." Hamish frowned and tilted his head.

"It doesn't look like me." he said pursed his lips. "Was I really that small?"

"You were tiny." Sherlock chuckled. "You almost fit in my left hand only." He pointed at the next picture of Hamish lying curled up against Sherlock's chest, suckling a bottle while grasping hard around his father's pinky. "First time at home." he explained and felt that warm feeling in his stomach. "Your daddy was completely exhausted that night, but he refused to take his eyes of off you." The boy giggled and compared his hand with the one on the photo, wrapped it around Sherlock's piny and the detective smiled. "You're not as small anymore, are you?"

"No." he said and leaned back to his chest. "I'm bigger now."

They heard the oven slam shut and Sherlock turned to the kitchen to see his husband hurry towards them.

"You started without me?" he asked and kneeled beside them. "How far have you gotten?"

"Not far." Sherlock answered and turned the page.

"Oh look, Hamish!" John smiled and placed a warm hand on Sherlock's back. "The first night in your own cot." The boy frowned.

"Why am I so angry?" he asked and looked at the small child with a bundled up face and clenched fists.

"You didn't like sleeping on your own." John giggled and licked his lips. "It took weeks before me and dad could get a good nights sleep since you woke up every third hour crying. Luckily your dad doesn't sleep as much as I do."

"Those were long nights." Sherlock smiled and pressed his lips to the top of Hamish's head. "You had a good set of lungs as they say."

Hamish was so eager about all this he changed pages faster than John and Sherlock could explain about the pictures. He wanted to see every photo of himself to know what to expect about the upcoming sibling and had so many questions they just blurted out of his mouth and when the book came to an end he pulled out the next album from the shelf.

"Can we buy a new album for him or her?" he asked. "So dad can keep track again?"

"Of course." Sherlock answered. "We have a lot of things to buy now. Luckily we've kept most of your stuff in the basement." Hamish turned to them both with big, glittering eyes.

"Is he or she sleeping in my room?" he asked eagerly and John stroke his hair.

"Eventually." he said. "But the first couple of weeks he or she's staying with us. A baby need a lot the first days."

"Oh." Hamish said with a small ounce of disappointment. "But when it's old enough, are we sharing room then?"

"If you want to." Sherlock smiled. "But me and daddy's been thinking if we and you should change rooms. So you and your brother and sister can sleep down here. Such a small child can't walk the stairs you know. Plus it's a little bigger. Two beds won't easily fit upstairs."

"But I like my room!" the boy protested. "And my bed! And my desk." John bursted into laughter and ruffled his hair.

"Oh, you little tosser. We're moving down your stuff of course, and moving up ours. But not yet. In a year or two, perhaps." he answered and pulled him over to his lap. "Scones?"

When the clock struck three their friends arrived quickly and Hamish was head over heals with excitement for his gifts. He hardly had time to thank them before he tore off the paper and cartons and every gift was celebrated with a smile and a hug, there were still people in the room that he didn't talk to. Greg, as always, had the best. According to him, every five-year-old needed a proper kit of lego and Sherlock stared at it with fear. He was the one walking bare feet in the flat all day long when there weren't any cases.

Hamish opened the box and poured out every little piece and fell to his knees with the DI and started to build. Sherlock walked to the bedroom to put on shoes.

Mrs Hudson had made little Hamish his favourite cake, Hummingbird with fresh pineapple and bananas and Hamish applauded at her great decoration when he saw it and jumped up in her arms. The old woman nearly fell but there was muscles in her little body and she started to sway him in her arms. Then Hamish did something she never expected, he kissed her cheek and flung his arms around his neck.

"Thank you granny." he whispered so only she could hear and the old woman choked on a squeak and kissed him right back.

"You're very welcome, dear." she whispered and gave a little sniffle. She had never heard such a beautiful voice.

Then Clara arrived, to Hamish disappointment she didn't brought anything more than a gift-card and a bouquet of flowers. He wrinkled his nose when he took them but smiled when he she explained that the card could give him anything under 50 pounds and the music shop. He gave her a small laugh and held hit hard in his hands.

"I'm gonna buy notebooks." he said and ran away before he could see hear react to the surprise. The woman looked up at John with big brown eyes and gasped.

"He can really speak?" she whispered like she was afraid that Hamish could hear her and the doctor chuckled.

"Yes, he's done it since december last year."

"But I was here at christmas. He didn't say a word." she exclaimed and unzipped her big coat.

"No, truth is, he hasn't spoken to anyone else but me, Sherlock and Greg so far. Today is his first day that he talks to everyone." Clara giggled and brought a hand to her lips.

"Jesus. That's amazing."

"Yeah, we just had mrs Hudson in tears."

With a loud chirp Molly entered the flat and Hamish spun on his heal in the kitchen and ran towards the young woman and into her arms.

"Molly!" he cheered and she stiffened with him in her arms.

"H-hi." she stammered happily and picked him up from the floor. "Happy birthday, Hamish. Has it been a good day?"

"Brilliant!" Hamish answered and was off again to get the car he'd just built on lego to show her but John managed to caught him before he reach the kitchen.

"No!" he smiled. "More play later. I think it's tea and cake time." He tossed him over his shoulder and the boy laughed hysterically and kicked him in the chest, desperate to get down again.

"Daddy! No!" he shrieked and slammed his little fists to his back. "Put me down! I don't like tea!"

"There's lemonade for you. dear." Mrs Hudson laughed as she set the table with cups and plates.

Sherlock re-entered the the kitchen in his shiny shoes and jacket nicely buttoned, shot one look at the gathering and sighed.

"Hello Molly." he greeted and gave her a slight nod. "See your new relationship is going well." The mortician pulled a face and tried to hide her joy about the new man she'd met.

"W-what are you talking about? I.."

"And Lestrade's to I see." Sherlock grinned and reached out to touch the small stain of lipstick on the DI's collar. It was still there even if the shirt had been washed many times.

"What are you getting at?" John asked and put the kicking Hamish down on the chair and he reached for his glass of lemonade and took a big gulp. The doctor looked at his friend who's cheeks ware burning and rubbed his face.

"I'm saying that our dear DI and mortician has been having coitus for quite some time now." Sherlock answered and everyone in the room stopped whatever they were doing. "Since christmas?"

"Sherlock..." John said warningly when he saw how Molly and Greg was starting to get very upset with this leaked information and the detective, as always, didn't understand why this was a sensitive subject.

"What's coitus?" Hamish asked and and reached for his spoon and Sherlock sat down beside him at the table with a smirk.

"It's when two people..."

"No!" John and Greg yelled and Mrs Hudson gave the detective a swat on the arm.

"He's to young, Sherlock." she warned and Sherlock frowned and turned to his husband.

"He need to know someday.
"Know what!?" Hamish asked with a confused face. "Tell me!"

"Yes!" Molly yelled suddenly just to stop this commotion. "I and Greg are a couple!" But that didn't really stop the commotion but only started more questions while Hamish still tried to figure out what coitus was and when no one seemed to care about him anymore he started to get annoyed. This was his day after all and he started to pout in his seat.

"Since christmas?" mrs Hudson beamed. "I would never guess. I thought you were married, Greg."

"I was." he smiled. "But it ended two years ago. I've been keeping my eye on Molly since the divorce went through." And Molly only blushed worse where she stood squeezing her hands.

"Who cares!?" Hamish shouted and decided that he had bigger news. "I'm having a baby sister!" The room fell in silence and their friends turned to the little boy who beamed like the sun itself on his chair.
"What?" Mrs Hudson was the first one who spoke. "When?"

"In two months!" Hamish continued and pulled John's sleeve. "Right daddy?"

"You're absolutely right." the doctor answered happily and poured up the tea for them. "It might be a boy, just to keep in mind."

"Oh my god, really!" Greg exclaimed with his crocked smile and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Yes. We found a help-mommy through Mycroft." And Clara frowned from her side of the table.

"A help-mommy?"

"A surrogate." John answered and put down the pot.

"A help-mommy!" Hamish corrected furiously, not letting anyone tell him any different. Molly uttered a little laugh and looked between the two men in shock.

"That's wonderful! Congratulations!"

Sherlock had never didn't like birthday parties, especially not now when all eyes were on him. Gatherings of a large amount of people did something to him, it was uncomfortable, to many voices speaking of things that seemed unimportant and he hated that they expected him to take a part in it all. But he did it for Hamish, he didn't want to teach his boy to be unsociable. So he sat down by the table, took a deep breath and made himself mentally ready for idiocy.

"So... whose is it?" Clara asked and nibbled on a biscuit. Hamish frowned at the questions and tilted his head as he observed her with a confused face.

"Ours..." he answered uncertainly and turned to John. "Or.. what does she mean?" John chuckled and stroke a hand through his hair, making the boy more confused.

"Of course it's ours." he answered and kissed his nose. "Our baby. Nobody else's."

So remember to leave a comment. They'll always make me happy!