Chapter Thirteen: Milestones
"John?" Sherlock called worryingly from where he was sitting at the table, his fingers typing quickly over the computer keys.
"Yeah?" John called from the kitchen. When no response came, he left the kitchen, calling "Sherlock?"
"Walking," the detective muttered as his eyes scanned the computer screen in front of him.
Confused, John sat down in his chair, and turned his attention to his flat mate. "Mmm… Okay. Walking. What about it?"
"Hamish," Sherlock replied, muttering again under his breath.
The doctor thought for a moment. "What about Hamish walking?" he asked, still very confused.
"He should be walking by now. He's nearly fourteen months old, and it says here," he nodded with his head towards the screen, "that by now he should probably be walking. He hasn't even taken his first few steps yet." He shut the computer, and turned around to look at John who was smirking and rolling his eyes.
"What, John?" Sherlock said defensively. "What if there's something wrong with—"
"Bloody hell, Sherlock!" John cried, chuckling. The detective stopped talking, and glanced towards the door to his room, checking to make sure Hamish had not woken from his nap.
Shaking his head and laughing slightly, John continued to talk to his flat mate. "Sherlock, Hamish is just fine; he's already started using objects around the flat to wobble around. He'll be walking any day now, I promise." He smiled reassuringly.
Sherlock thought for a moment, steepling his fingers under his chin. After thinking for several moments, he finally sat up, and moved to his chair. He draped his arms over the arms of the chair, leaning back.
"Yes, I suppose you're right," he muttered dejectedly.
John couldn't help but chuckle at the worried look on Sherlock's face. "Ohh," he sighed. "Hamish has definitely changed you," he said, smiling at the detective.
"How do you mean?" Sherlock asked curiously.
"Oh, I don't know. You just seem… Different. Happier, maybe? And, though you try to hide it, I've seen how soft you are with him," John added, smirking slightly, which received a royal eye roll from Sherlock, though the detective couldn't help but smile ever so slightly, as he knew John was correct.
"Hmm," he murmured slowly, peering at John. "Yes. I suppose he has changed me, hasn't he?" he pondered out loud.
In response, John raised his eyebrows, with a look that clearly said: Told you so. "Mmm-hmm," he hummed, looking smug as he turned his attention to the newspaper sitting on the arm of his chair
"Oh please," Sherlock moaned. He was just about to mount a well-planned defense when the sound of Hamish waking up in his room interrupted him.
"Hmm," John hummed again, smirking at the newspaper in his hands.
Rolling his eyes again, Sherlock opened the door to his room, and crossed over to the crib. He reached down and lifted Hamish up by his armpits, hugging him close to his chest.
"Hello, Hamish. Did you have a good nap, hmm?" Tiredly, Hamish leaned into Sherlock, letting his head lightly rest against his father's chest as he rubbed his eyes with one tiny fist.
"Mmm," he sighed against Sherlock's chest. "Yes, Daddy."
Sherlock and Hamish froze at the same time, both realizing that the little boy had said 'daddy' for the first time.
"Hamish!" Sherlock cried happily, sitting down on the bed, and setting the little boy on his lap. Hamish looked just as shocked as his father, with his mouth hanging open slightly and his eyes wide and excited.
Smiling widely, the detective pulled Hamish into his arms, hugging him tightly. "I'm very proud of you, Hamish!" he praised, planting soft kisses to the little boy's chubby cheeks.
"Yes, Daddy! 'Es!" Happy with his achievement, Hamish leaned forward, pressing his tiny form tightly against Sherlock's chest.
"Ohh," Sherlock sighed happily, hugging the little boy tightly to his chest. "Let's go tell John, hmm?" he said excitedly.
Sherlock stood up, still hugging Hamish close to his chest and walked out of his room.
"John?"
"Yeah?" the doctor replied, looking away from his newspaper. Excitedly, Sherlock turned Hamish around so he was sitting on his arms, his back pressed against the detective's chest.
He bent his head down ever so slightly and told Hamish encouragingly, "Go on. Tell him."
Hamish nodded, and took a deep breath. He looked at John excitedly and, pointing to Sherlock, called out, "Daddy!"
"Oh!" John exclaimed, standing up quickly. "Good job, then, Hamish. That's exciting isn't, it?" He smiled at Sherlock who was practically beaming.
"Yes, Joh! Daddy!" Hamish was bouncing happily in Sherlock's arms, his deep green eyes glowing with excitement. "Daddy!" he giggled again, turning around in Sherlock's arms so he could give the detective a hug.
"Thank you, Hamish," Sherlock laughed, giving John a knowing look.
"Daddy," the little boy sighed happily into Sherlock's neck.
"Great job, Hame," John laughed. He reached over, and gave Hamish's back a light pat, turned his attention back to his newspaper, still smiling, and glanced at the watch on his wrist.
"Oh!" he cried, standing up. "I've got to get going. Going to be late!" He grabbed his coat, and turned back to Hamish, who was still snuggled tightly against Sherlock, smiling into the detective's shirt.
"Bye, Hame. Very good job! Have a fun day, you two." He quickly kissed the little boy's cheek, then hurried down the stairs, calling, "Bye, Sherlock."
After hearing the door shut, Sherlock detective turned his attention back to Hamish.
"Well," he sighed, moving the little boy back slightly so that he could look at him. "I say we celebrate. How does some ice cream sound, hmm?" he asked, smiling as Hamish's eyes widened slightly.
"'Es, Daddy!"
"Good," he chuckled. "But you can't tell John, okay? Let's keep it a secret from John, okay?" Sherlock whispered playfully.
"Ohh," Hamish sighed, now very serious at the prospect of having to keep a secret, "'Kay, Daddy."
Sherlock chuckled at the little boy's seriousness and crouched down, placing Hamish on the ground. He looked lovingly into the little boy's eyes.
"I'll go get the ice cream. Do you want to stay here and play, or help me get the ice cream?"
"Daddy," Hamish replied confidently. Smiling, Sherlock picked up the little boy, placing him on his hip as he walked into the kitchen.
Sherlock sat Hamish in his chair, buckling him in as he turned towards the freezer. He pulled out a tub of ice cream, quickly grabbed two bowls, and sat down at the table. He placed the ice cream and bowls in front of Hamish and moved his chair closer to the little boy.
"Do you want to help, Hamish?" he asked.
"'Es, Daddy."
Sherlock took Hamish's tiny hand in his own, wrapping his long fingers around both the little boy's hand and the spoon, and helped Hamish scoop some of the ice cream into his bowl. He then guided the little boy's hand to scoop one spoonful of ice cream into his own bowl, though Hamish insisted he should have more.
"Thank you, Hamish, but this is enough for me," he said gently, smiling at Hamish warmly as he did so.
"Oh," the little boy said quietly. "'Kay, Da."
The two ate the ice cream quickly. Once they were finished, Sherlock cleared away the bowls, and, much to the chagrin of Hamish, tried to clean off the little boy's face.
"Daddy!" he protested, trying to push away his father's hands, though his efforts were so cute that Sherlock couldn't hold back a smile.
"Hamish," he began, laughing at the little boy's fruitless efforts, "You have chocolate ice cream all over your face. I have to clean it off," he chuckled.
With a very pitiful look on his face, Hamish stopped his protests and allowed Sherlock to clean off the rest of his face and hands.
"You are definitely my son, aren't you?" the detective chuckled lightly upon seeing the look on his son's face. Tenderly, he brushed his thumb over Hamish's now-clean cheek, a fond look in his eyes.
"My son..." he murmured quietly, letting his thumb rest on the little boy's soft cheek.
All previous distress forgotten, Hamish closed his eyes as Sherlock's thumb rested on his face, and leaned in to the touch.
"Daddy…" he sighed happily.
That same fond look in his eyes, Sherlock felt a wave of love rush over him as Hamish's small head rested in is hand, a content look on the little boy's face.
"Daddy," Hamish smiled, opening his dark green eyes to peer into his father's ever-changing grey ones.
Sherlock smiled warmly at the little boy, brushing his thumb over the top of his cheek once more, before asking, "Do you want your shirt on or off, Hamish?" Over the past few weeks, he had learned that the little boy much preferred to go about his day wearing just a nappy, rather than his clothes.
In response, the little boy tugged at the bottom of his shirt, trying to pull it off. Smiling, Sherlock reached forward, and pulled Hamish out of his chair, moving the little boy so he was sitting on his lap. He gently pulled off Hamish's shirt, which was also messy from the ice cream, and placed it on the table.
"There," he said, bouncing his knees slightly. He let one of his hands rest on Hamish's back. Tenderly, he began rubbing his thumb back and forth, not even realizing he was doing it, the corner of his lips turning up as he remembered how smooth the little boy's skin truly was.
"Well. What shall we do today, then?" he asked, still bouncing Hamish on his knees. "We could watch television, draw, play with your toys, do some more puzzles—"
"Yes," Hamish replied happily upon hearing 'puzzles.'
"Puzzles. Okay, then." Sherlock stood up and walked out of the kitchen, Hamish on his hip. He sat the little boy down on the ground and pulled out one of his many puzzles they had bought, this one happening to be a puzzle about shapes.
He bent down, squatting next to Hamish who had already pulled all of the shapes out of their slots. "Hamish, I'm going to be working on some things in the kitchen, okay?"
"'Kay, Daddy," Hamish replied, though he was completely engrossed in the puzzle, he barely noticed his father talking. Chuckling, Sherlock stood up, and grabbed John's computer as he made his way to the kitchen, making sure the door was opened all the way. He pulled out his microscope from under the sink, along with some samples he'd wanted to look at, and sat down in one of the chairs, opening the computer as he did so.
"Oh, John," he chuckled happily to himself, "You tried to change your password. You actually think it'll keep me out. Funny," he murmured to himself as he quickly typed in the new password.
The detective sat at the table, looking at the samples, and glancing occasionally at John's laptop. He continuously peered over at Hamish to make sure he was all right, and couldn't help but smile occasionally at the cute little baby noises he kept making.
Eventually, Hamish got tired of the shapes puzzle, shoving it away with a frustrated look on his face. He crawled over to Sherlock's chair, using the leg to pull himself up until he was in a standing position. With his bottom lip stuck out, he scanned the room, hoping to find something to do. Hesitantly, he took a step forward, and then froze when he realized his hand was not holding onto the leg of the chair anymore.
"Da-Daddy!" he called, a terrified look on his face.
"Hmm?" Sherlock murmured from the kitchen, staring intently into the microscope, distracted by the sample. When no reply came, he called, louder this time, "Yes, Hamish? What is it?"
"Da!"
When Hamish called, 'da,' rather than 'daddy,' the detective looked up from the microscope, and practically jumped out of the chair when he saw Hamish standing by himself, a horrified look on his small face.
"Hamish!" Sherlock cried as he hurried out of the kitchen. He knelt down a few feet away from Hamish, stretching his arms out, smiling excitedly as he did so.
He laughed out loud, as he saw the mixed look of confusion and fright on Hamish's face.
Keeping his arms outstretched, Sherlock chuckled, "No, Hamish. It's okay, it's okay, I promise. I'm right here."
"Daddy," he moaned, still frozen.
Sherlock chuckled sadly. "Oh, Hamish. It's okay. Here…" Hoping to reassure the little boy, he moved forward slightly, keeping his arms outstretched. "You can do it!" he said encouragingly. "Come on! Just walk right into my arms, I've got you."
Hamish still appeared doubtful, though, and he looked at Sherlock, tears beginning to brim in his eyes.
"I'm right here," Sherlock murmured quietly, hoping to reassure the frightened little boy. "I'll catch you if you fall… I promise… You can do it."
Upon hearing his father's soothing voice, Hamish looked up into Sherlock's eyes.
"I promise," he whispered again, nodding at the little boy.
Hamish paused for a moment, and then took a deep breath. He looked into his father's eyes, and then, very cautiously, took one step forward, wobbling slightly as he did so.
"Yes! Yes, Hamish, that's it! Come on, one more, you can do it!"
Still staring intently at Sherlock, Hamish stepped forward again, a glint of hope and excitement in his sea-green eyes.
Hoping to get the little boy to walk more, Sherlock took one tiny step back, keeping his arms outstretched, a large smile on his face.
"You're doing so well, Hamish!"
All trepidation now forgotten, Hamish reached his chubby arms out, trying to grab his father's hands as he took another excited step forward. Still unsteady on his own feet, though, he tripped, falling forward towards Sherlock.
Almost instantly, the detective reached forward, catching Hamish as he fell. He scooped him up, and stood up quickly, spinning the little boy around as he called, "Oh, Hamish! I'm so proud of you! You took your first steps! You did such a good job!"
"Daddy!" Hamish laughed, holding onto Sherlock's hands with his own small fingers.
The detective stopped spinning and pulled Hamish into a tight hug, pressing loving kisses to the little boy's hair and cheeks.
"Daddy," he giggled into the detective's chest. "'Ove, Daddy."
Sherlock smiled into Hamish's silky, auburn curls. "I love you too, Hamish," he murmured. "Very much." He sat down on the couch and leaned the little boy back in his arms. Tenderly, he moved forward and pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of Hamish's nose, secretly loving the way the little boy closed his eyes and giggled slightly.
"I'm very proud of you," he whispered, looking into Hamish's dark eyes.
Smiling sweetly, Hamish leaned forward, and reached both of his arms up until his tiny hands were resting on either side of the detective's cheeks.
"Hmm," he sighed, closing his eyes. "Daddy," he murmured, leaning forward, resting his head at the base of Sherlock's neck.
The detective chuckled lightly, and placed his hand on the back of Hamish's head as he pressed another kiss to the little boy's forehead.
"Would you like to try again?"
Hamish nodded against Sherlock's neck and leaned back, waiting to be placed on the ground.
"Here we go," Sherlock said as he slid off the couch, placing Hamish on the ground and holding the little boy up under the armpits. Keeping a firm hold around his middle, the detective waited until Hamish looked like he had gained enough balance.
"All right. I'm going to let you keep ahold of my hand, okay? And we're going to try to walk to the kitchen, all right?" he asked, squatting in front of Hamish.
"'Kay, Daddy," he replied quietly, now frightened again at the prospect of walking again.
"It's okay," Sherlock chuckled. "Here. Take my hand." He let go of Hamish's middle with one hand and moved it in front of the little boy. Hamish grabbed onto it eagerly, his chubby fingers wrapping around Sherlock's thumb.
Chuckling, the detective stood up, but had to bend over slightly so that he could keep his hand level with Hamish. He looked down and saw that Hamish did not yet reach his knee, but rather that the top of his head reached just a few inches below. He felt a tremendous amount of love swell in his chest upon seeing how truly small his son was.
Smiling at the thought, Sherlock took a small step forward, wrapping his large hand around Hamish's much smaller one as the little boy began taking wobbly steps forward.
"Very good, Hamish," he praised. "We're almost there, and you're doing a very good job!" As a thought occurred to him, he quickly pulled out his mobile from his pocket, and started filming Hamish as he continued toddling forward.
About halfway to the kitchen, the little boy seemed to become unsure. He stopped, squeezing his father's hand as he did so. "Daddy?" he asked worriedly.
"You're doing beautifully, Hamish," Sherlock replied, smiling warmly. "Keep going. You can do it."
Eventually, the two reached the kitchen, upon which Sherlock began happily praising the little boy again, kissing his cheeks and hugging him tightly.
"Let's send this to John, hmm?" he asked cheerily, already typing in the address on his phone.
Shortly thereafter, John's response came:
Told you so.
JW
Sherlock could practically see the doctor smirking, and he couldn't help but chuckle himself.
Smiling with Hamish in his arms, the detective tossed the phone away as he turned his attention back to his son.
"Try again?"
"Yes, Daddy!"
"All right, then," Sherlock answered happily as he bent down, placing the little boy on the ground, and reaching his hand out, allowing Hamish to grasp tightly onto his fingers for support. "Here we go…"