Sherlock and John walked down the aisles in the infant clothing section, Hamish sleeping contently in his stroller. "This one looks nice, don't you think, Sherlock?" John asked while examining some light blue footie pajamas. Sherlock only rolled his eyes in response.
"Why does he sleep so much? It's rather boring," he whined.
"Sherlock! He's a baby! They need lots of sleep."
"Yes, I'm aware of that."
"Then what's the problem?" John inquired, raising an eyebrow at his irritable companion.
"I'm bored! We haven't worked a case since we got the thing!"
"Thing? That thing is your son now and, might I remind you, it was your idea to take him in!" John was absolutely floored by Sherlock's behavior. He thought even Sherlock would have a little more decency.
"Well, I had no idea the time that would go into taking care of him. I mean, really, why must we walk around this bloody shop, deciding upon clothes he's going to grow out of? Just wrap him in a sheet!"
"You know damn well we can't do that!"
"It's good enough for me!"
"Sherlock, what the hell has gotten into you?"
With that final shout, a security guard walked around the corner.
"Gentleman, I'm going to have to ask you to either quiet down or leave. You're causing a disturbance. Now I know bein' a young couple with a new baby is tough but-"
John's face turn a particularly deep shade of what could only be described as tomato red, while Sherlock smirked slightly.
"This man is quite right. Come on, love. We should settle this at home." Sherlock could scarcely contain his amusement at the guard's misconception. He had to admit, he liked that people saw them together and instantly assumed "couple". John, embarrassed, was rendered incapable of speech and was therefore unable to explain any further, so he reluctantly followed Sherlock out the door.
"I hope you're pleased with yourself, Sherlock. I'm beginning to think you're not fit to be a guardian. And what was that, huh? 'Come on, love'? Why didn't you correct that man?"
"I disagree entirely, and that is a very good question. Why didn't you?"
John's mouth fell open a bit at having his own question turned against him. "I, I uh, I just wasn't able to-" he stammered.
"You were embarrassed to be thought of as a homosexual."
"No! That's not it I was just-" he grasped desperately for words but found none.
"Don't deny it. Have you considered, John, that you do in fact show many homosexual tendencies?" Sherlock was past being inconspicuous and couldn't keep the smile from his face, having cornered John in such a way.
John wanted to deny it, but his mouth betrayed him by asking, "How so?"
"For starters, you're an adult male living with another adult male. Now, that wouldn't be so strange if it weren't for the fact that almost every thing you do revolves around this person. A heterosexual man, for example, would probably not abandon dates to check up on their roomate and certainly wouldn't spend as much time together as we do." Sherlock was now holding his skull from atop the mantle. He turned it in his hands as he spoke. "Those are all red flags, sure, but let's get to the more substantial part. The meat of it, if you will. When you look at me, your pupils dilate. I've taken note, on several occasions, of your pulse quickening, your body temperature rising, and many other physical indicators of attraction." Sherlock's smile had turned into a full blown grin and mischief danced behind his eyes. "Not to mention the other night you moaned my name in your sleep."
John slammed his fists down onto the coffee table. "Damn you, I have had enough of this nonsense!" He quickly exited the flat, slamming the door behind him. Sherlock was left alone with Hamish.
"Your father really can be difficult," he said softly to the baby who had woken up, startled by the loud noises. Sherlock picked Hamish up and bounced him the way John had instructed that first day to help calm him down. Taking care of a child was actually starting to feel a little natural for him. It wasn't easy at first. He had spent countless hours pouring over all kinds of parenting books, reading all he could on the subject. As heartless as Sherlock seemed, there really was a lot more beneath the hard exterior. It wasn't that he tried to hide it, really, he just wasn't sure how to express it. Growing up with a family like his where emotions were bottled up and unacknowledged, it wasn't hard to believe. Mycroft was a little more open than Sherlock in admitting how much he cared for his little brother, but he had that same insensitive nature. Sherlock knew emotions were a hindrance to mental progress, a chink in the armor of the mind. Even so, he sometimes wished it had been different for him.
Three light taps on the door surprised Sherlock. He carried Hamish with him to answer the door.
"Bit of a domestic, I take it?" Mrs. Hudson said with her usual softness.
"Just a bit. It would help if John wasn't so stubborn, of-"
"Funny you should be accusing anyone of stubbornness!" She cut him off, laughing quietly.
"It's not being stubborn if I'm right," Sherlock smiled fondly, "and I always am, of course."
"Now, now. We both know that isn't true," Mrs. Hudson sighed. "I didn't stop in to argue, though. I just wanted to make sure all was well. It is, isn't it?" Her eyebrows rose with concern.
"Just peachy, I'm sure he'll be back soon."
After extinguishing any worry she might have had and closing the door behind her, Sherlock began to wonder what would happen when John came back. Surely, he'd have to, even if it was only to collect his things and move out. Although that possibility was doubtful, the thought of it was a bit unnerving.