Hey readers! I am so sorry I couldn't get this up this morning, but unfortunately, I've had a crazy amount of exams this week, and a very minimal amount of time to write. So I decided that I would come home and finish this quickly today, and just post it late in the day. So I sincerely apologize for this being so late up today, though I hope you enjoy it anyway! =/ This chapter is for everyone who's been asking for some John time (but don't worry DaddySherlock lovers: there's some fluff at the end). =D Thank you everyone for all of your truly wonderful reviews I got on the last chapter. They really help!
Please enjoy!
Again, so sorry for it not being up this morning! Next chapter will be up on Sunday. Thanks!
Chapter Sixteen: Time With John
"Yes. Of course. I'll be right over, Lestrade," Sherlock said, grabbing his coat. He turned back around to John, who was reading a children's book to Hamish on his lap.
"John, Lestrade needs me." He glanced at Hamish. "Kidnapping," he mouthed excitedly.
The doctor chuckled darkly.
"You could be a little less excited," he joked, rolling his eyes.
"But, John," the detective all-but-whined, wrapping his scarf around his neck. "It's been nearly two weeks since I've had a decent case!" he exclaimed. "I need some kind of brain stimulation! And," he added, whispering so Hamish wouldn't hear, "this one looks simply marvelous!"
"Daddy 'eaving?" came Hamish's small voice from where he was sitting on John's lap.
"Oh," Sherlock sighed sadly. He held his arms out, prompting John to stand up and pass the little boy to the detective.
"Yes, Hamish," he said, looking at the little boy with sad eyes. "But I won't be long. I'll be back as soon as I can, okay?" he promised tenderly, brushing the back of his fingers across Hamish's cheek.
"'Kay, Daddy," the little boy replied mournfully.
"Oh, Hamish, it's okay," Sherlock whispered gently. "Besides… You're going to have far more fun with John then I'll be having," he added cheerfully, hoping to lift his son's spirits.
"Fun at John?" Hamish whispered hopefully, peering up at Sherlock.
"Yes!" the detective replied enthusiastically, giving the little boy a gentle squeeze of reassurance.
"Oh… 'Kay, Daddy!" Hamish replied happily, forgetting all of his trepidation.
"There's my boy," Sherlock murmured quietly, the corners of his lips turning up in a loving smile. "All right. Can I have a hug, then?"
"Oh! 'Es, Daddy!"
Smiling, Hamish haphazardly threw his arms around Sherlock's neck, squeezing his chubby arms tightly together. He pressed his head into the detective's coat.
"Bye-bye, Daddy," he whispered, snuggling further into Sherlock's neck.
The detective felt a twinge of sadness constrict his chest, momentarily stopping his breathing. Trying not to think about it, he quickly brushed the feeling aside, placing one hand on the back of Hamish's small head.
"Goodbye, Hamish," he murmured, gently kissing the little boy's cheek.
Slowly, keeping his hand on the back of Hamish's head, he pulled the little boy away so he could look at his face.
"Now," he said seriously, though he couldn't help but smile as he peered into Hamish's dark green eyes. "Do I get a kiss, then? I mean, it's only logical, seeing how I gave you one." He grinned upon feeling Hamish giggle in his arms.
"'Kay, Daddy," the little boy laughed. With some help from his father, the little boy stretched his small body upward and pressed a light kiss to Sherlock's cheek.
"Mmm. Thank you, Hamish," the detective whispered, feeling a warmth spread through his chest where the sadness had previously been residing. He peered at John, noticing how his flat mate was looking fondly at the little boy.
"Well, then! I'd better be off." He turned his attention back to Hamish. "You be good for, John, okay? I'll be back soon." After pressing another quick kiss to his son's cheek, Sherlock (almost reluctantly) passed the little boy back to John.
"Text me if anything happens," he said to his flat mate, though he was still gazing at Hamish.
"Sherlock, we'll be fine," John replied, smiling in reassurance at his friend. "Besides, we're going to have a lot of fun together, aren't we, Hame?" he asked lightly, bouncing the little boy in his arms.
"'Es, Daddy. Fun at John," Hamish told Sherlock happily, almost as if he, too, was trying to reassure the detective.
"Of course," Sherlock whispered, smiling at both John and the little boy in his arms. "Bye, Hamish. Thank you, John," he called, hurrying down the stairs. He turned around briefly to see his son waving a goodbye with one small, chubby hand.
"Bye, Hamish," he whispered, knowing that even though his son couldn't hear him, the little boy would understand.
He hurried outside, into the brisk night air, closing the door behind him. He took a deep breath, trying to clear away the unusual feeling of longing that was building in his chest.
Though he'd gone to the Yard several times already, always leaving Hamish with John, the strange longing he felt to be with his son and know that he was safe only seemed to grow each time he went. And he was afraid it would be worse this time, seeing as this would be the first time he would not be home by the time Hamish went to bed…
"He'll be fine. You're being ridiculous, he muttered to himself half-heartedly, hailing a cab as he did so. Shaking his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts, Sherlock hopped into the cab, peering back at the door of 221B as he car quickly sped away down the street.
"Well, then!" John said cheerfully, bouncing Hamish in his arms as he heard the front door shut. "Shall we continue reading, then?"
"'Es 'ease, John," Hamish replied.
"Very good manners, Hame," he praised happily. Minding Hamish, he leaned down, picking up the book they had been reading together. He meandered over to his chair, plopping down, and then moved Hamish onto his lap.
"Okay, then. Now… Hmm… Where did we leave off?" he asked, feigning curiosity.
"Was it… here?" he asked, flipping back to the first page of the book.
"No, John!" Hamish giggled, reaching forward with one hand. He grabbed hold of the book and began flipping through the pages until he found they one they had left off at.
"John," he stated proudly, tapping the page with his finger.
Smiling at Hamish, John positioned the book so that both him and the little boy could see and began reading; making sure to do the voices he knew Hamish loved.
John finished reading the book, grinning each time Hamish would giggle at the voices he made.
As he sat the book down on his lap, Hamish turned around, gripping a fistful of the doctor's jumper in his hand.
"John silly," he giggled sweetly, staring into the doctor's eyes.
"Yeah.. I suppose I am pretty silly, aren't I? I mean I've been willing living with your father for several years. And someone would have to be pretty silly to do that," he chuckled, gently tickling Hamish's stomach.
"'Es!" the little boy laughed, gently pushing away John's hand. "Now?" he asked, still smiling.
"Now what… Hmm… Well I suppose we could play hide and seek! How does that sound, hmm?" John asked excitedly, wrapping one hand around Hamish's middle.
"What, John?" the little boy asked quietly, still holding onto the doctor's jumper.
"You've never played hide and seek before?" John asked incredulously.
Hamish thought for a moment, before shaking his head. "No," he said plainly, ready for John to explain.
"Right, then," he said, standing up from the chair. He placed Hamish on the ground and knelt down, keeping a firm hold around the little boy's middle
"Okay. Hide and see. Here's how this works. I'm going to hide," he paused, looking around the flat, "like this," he finished, hurrying over to squat behind his chair. "All right, Hamish. Now come and see if you can find me."
Thoroughly confused, Hamish toddled over to John's chair and hesitantly peered behind.
"John?" he asked cautiously, as if he was afraid the doctor was going to jump out and frighten him. When he spotted John crouching behind the chair, he giggled, running forward to meet the doctor.
"John!" he laughed, wrapping his chubby arms around the doctor's wrist.
"Very good job, Hamish! You found me! Right. Ready to go again?"
"'Es, John."
The doctor smiled. "Good. All right, close your eyes and I'm going to hide again, okay?"
"'Kay, John," Hamish replied cheerfully, placing his hands over his eyes.
Chuckling quietly, John hurried over to the couch and lay down, pulling all of the pillows on top of himself. And, though he was clearly still visible, the doctor draped his arm over the side of the couch, letting his hand rest against the ground.
"Okay, Hamish!" he called, "I'm ready. You can come and find me."
"'Kay, John!" the little boy called back, his voice slightly muffled by his hands, which were now more or less covering his nose and mouth, rather than his eyes.
Excitedly, Hamish began to run around the flat, not knowing that John was carefully watching him.
"Jo-ohn!" he called, giggling wildly when he heard the doctor call back, "John? Who's John?"
"Silly," the little boy giggled to himself (sounding eerily similar to a certain detective), and hurried over to the couch. He squatted down, staring intently at John's hand. Slowly, he raked his eyes over the couch, crying, "John!" when he saw the doctor's face peering at him from under a mound of pillows.
"Oh no!" You found me," John sighed comically. "I think you're just too smart for me, hmm?" he said, bending down to pickup the little boy. "Come on, then. Next round."
John and Hamish were interrupted from their playing by the sound of the doctor's phone going off.
Smiling fondly at the little boy, John stood up, pulling his phone out of his pocket. New text from Sherlock. He rolled his eyes happily, knowing the detective was checking up on them.
Everything going well?
SH
John chuckled, quickly typing back a reply.
Yes, Sherlock. We're fine and safe. Just got done playing together. Quick TV time then he's off to bed. Case?
"John?"
The doctor turned around to see Hamish staring intently at the phone in his hands. He was just about to ask if the little boy would like to say goodnight to his father when his phone beeped again, buzzing in his hands.
Marvelous! Terribly exciting. Explain later.
SH
Chuckling, John closed the phone in hands and turned back to the little boy, who was still looking curiously at the phone.
"Hame?" he asked, "would you like to call Daddy and say goodnight to him quickly before you go to bed?"
The little boy's eyes widened with wonder. He pointed at the phone.
"Daddy?" he asked incredulously.
John chuckled. "Sort of. What do you say? Want to give him a call?"
Though it was clear the little boy didn't fully understand how his father could possibly be in the small object in John's hands, Hamish nodded vigorously, hurrying forwards towards the doctor.
Smiling at the little boy's wonder, John picked Hamish up and moved over to the couch, sitting him on his lap. He quickly dialed Sherlock's number, putting the phone on speaker so Hamish could hear. As the mobile began to ring, with sheer excitement and wonder, Hamish reached forward, pressing his fingers to the screen.
"Wow..." he sighed, utterly amazed. He was so engrossed in the new object that when it clicked to life and and he could hear his father's voice calling, "John?! What happened, is everything all right?" the little boy jumped back, shocked by the sound of Sherlock's voice coming from object.
"No, Sherlock, everything's all right, Hamish just-"
"Daddy?" Hamish shouted, shoving his small face close to the phone. He called again, even louder, "Daddy!" which was met by the sound of Sherlock's deep laugh coming from the other end of the line.
"Hello, Hamish," he chuckled. "And there's no need to shout; I can hear you just fine, I promise."
Hamish gasped, turning back to John with wide eyes.
"Hello, Daddy!" he said excitedly, turning back to the phone.
"Hamish just wanted to say goodnight before he heads off to bed," John explained, chuckling at Hamish's amazement.
"'Es, Daddy," the little boy agreed happily.
"Ah. I see," Sherlock replied, smiling contently.
"Nigh' Daddy. 'Ove," Hamish said loudly, causing both the detective and doctor to chuckle.
"Goodnight, Hamish. I love you, too. Thank you for calling me to tell me goodnight," he laughed happily. "Have you had a good time with John?"
"Oh! 'Es Daddy! Fun at John!" Very excited to share the news of his day with his father, Hamish launched into a very long explanation of what had happened that day, most of which was just unintelligible babbling.
"Ohh... Yes?... I see..." Sherlock murmured every once in a while, smiling widely at his son's summary of the day.
The little boy finished with a nod of his head, a small smile on his face. "'Kay, Daddy!" he said proudly, pressing his face closer to the phone. "Daddy fun?" he asked, concerned.
"Did I have fun? Well... Not as much as it sounded like you had!" Hamish giggled happily.
"'Kay, Daddy! 'Nigh!" He reached forward, wrapping his arms around the phone. "'Ove, Daddy," he called, making a kissing noise towards the screen.
Sherlock chuckled. "Goodnight, Hamish," he laughed, making a kissing noise back, which received much giggling from Hamish.
"'Night, John. Thank you," the detective added.
"'Course," the doctor replied happily. "Say, 'bye, Daddy'!"
"Bye, Daddy!" Hamish repeated happily. Sherlock chuckled before ending the call with a loud click.
John chuckled and chucked the phone away, tossing it on the other end of the couch.
"All right, Hame," he said, "let's watch some cartoons quickly before we go to bed, hmm?"
Upon hearing John speak, Hamish looked back from where he had been staring at the phone on the couch.
"Nigh' nigh'?" he asked quietly. John couldn't help but laugh.
"Is that what Daddy calls it?" he chuckled, the idea of Sherlock having said that sounding incredibly humorous.
"What, John?" Hamish asked, not understand why the doctor was laughing.
apping his arms around the little boy. "Ohhh," he groaned softly. "You're getting so big, aren't you?" he asked, bouncing Hamish on his legs.
"'Es, John..." the little boy replied quickly, clearing anxious to say something else.
"John?" he asked timidly.
"Yes, Hame?"
"Daddy for nigh' night?" he asked nervously.
"Oh..." John replied. He'd forgotten: this would be the first time Sherlock had left for a case, but had not returned by the time the little boy was to go to bed.
"Um... I don't know, Hame," John replied slowly. "But how about this: How about Daddy before we go to bed, and you can talk to him for a little while, okay? Hmm? How does that sound?"
The little boy contemplated for a moment, drawing his eyebrows together, before he looked back at John. "'Kay, John."
The doctor sighed in relief. "Good." He sat back into the couch, flipping the TV on as he did so. "Okay, Hame. How does-"
"Train!" the little boy cried triumphantly, pointing his chubby finger towards the screen. John laughed, pulling the little boy close to his chest.
Sighing happily, Hamish leaned back, letting his head rest against John's chest. Eyes staring at the screen, he absentmindedly began to play with the sleeve of John's jumper, rubbing his chubby fingers back and forth across the fabric.
John gazed fondly down at Hamish, smiling slightly. He really was a sweet little boy... The doctor couldn't help but tighten his grip around the little boy, his own paternal instincts kicking in. Feeling almost bittersweet, he leaned down to press a quick kiss to the little boy's head.
A little while later, when John had started to notice how Hamish's eyes were fluttering closed, he turned the TV off and slowly moved the little boy around in his arms.
Trying not to jostle the almost-sleeping little boy, John slowly meandered into Sherlock's room, gently bouncing Hamish as he walked.
He quickly changed the little boy's nappy, and grabbed a pair of pajama trousers (they had discovered that Hamish much preferred to sleep either without a shirt or just in his nappy.).
"Okay," he sighed quietly, gently laying Hamish in his cot. He tucked the covers around his small form and then bent down, pressing a light kiss to the little boy's forehead.
"'Night, Hame," he whispered, though the little boy was already asleep.
He quietly crept out of the room, shutting the door behind him. He found his phone, picked it up and began writing a text.
He's sound asleep. See? I told you you were worried about nothing.
He clicked send, and then grabbed his laptop, plopping down in his chair. The phone buzzed.
Maybe. Glad he's asleep. Thank you, again, John.
SH
Knowing Sherlock wouldn't require a reply, the doctor continued working on his laptop.
It wasn't long, though, before he heard movement coming from Sherlock's room, followed by an almost-inaudible, "John!"
The doctor stood up, placing the computer on his chair and hurried to Sherlock's bedroom. He slowly pushed open the door, peering over at the little boy's cot.
"Hamish? What's wrong?" he asked gently, upon seeing how the little boy was standing up in his cot, crying. He hurried over and picked up the little boy.
Hamish sniffled as John sat down on the bed, placing the little boy in his lap.
"Daddy," he sniffled sadly, staring at his hands. "Daddy not nigh' night. No Hame nigh' night," he cried sadly, wrapping his arms around John's middle.
"Oh, Hamish," John almost chuckled. "Shh... It's okay. Would you like to come sit with me? And then we'll see if we can't get daddy home?How's that sound?"
"'Es, 'ease, John... Ta."
The doctor smiled. "You're welcome. Come on, then," he said, standing up off the bed. He placed Hamish on the ground, and, with one hand on the little boy's back, guided him out of the room.
"Do you want to watch some TV, Hame?" he asked, walking over to his chair. He pulled the little boy onto his lap, hoping he would fall asleep and he wouldn't have to pull Sherlock away from his case.
"No 'ease, John. Daddy?"
John sighed quietly. "All right, then. We can call daddy."
"'Es 'ease," Hamish replied sleepily, rubbing his fist into one of his eyes as he yawned widely.
The doctor pulled out his phone, and quickly dialed Sherlock's number.
"Yes?" the detective answered almost immediately.
"Daddy?" Hamish called tiredly, leaning up towards the phone in John's hand.
"Do you want to talk to him, Hame?" The little boy nodded, yawning widely as he did so.
John quickly switched the mobile to speaker. "Okay, Hame. Go ahead." He gave a small nod of encouragement.
"Hello, Hamish," Sherlock said gently.
Upon hearing his father's voice, and sleepiness getting the better of him, Hamish began to cry again. "Daddy... Home," he whimpered, turning around and pressing his face into John's stomach.
"John? What's happened? Is he okay?" Sherlock asked frantically.
Peering sadly down at the little boy, John placed a soothing hand on his back. He pulled the phone back to his ear.
"No, Sherlock, he's fine. He's just really tired, is all. He's very distraught, however, that you're not here to help him sleep," John added, almost apologetically, knowing the detective would probably not want to be called away from the case.
"I'm on my way," Sherlock said determinedly.
"No, Sherlock. Really, it's okay-" But the detective had already hung up. He turned his attention back to Hamish, who was still crying into his jumper.
"Shh," he murmured, running his hand up and down the little boy's back. "Hame, what's wrong? Why are you so upset?" he asked gently.
"Daddy..." Hamish sniffled, "D-daddy 'uk bad 'eam bye..."
John though for a moment, trying to make sense of what the little boy had said.
"Oh," he sighed sadly, upon realizing what the little boy meant. He leaned down, resting his head on top of Hamish's. "Did you have a bad dream?" he asked gently. He felt the little boy nod against his chest. "And Daddy makes the bad dreams go away, doesn't he?"
"'Es, John," Hamish cried sadly, pulling his head away from the doctor's jumper. "Daddy home?" he whispered.
Tenderly, John moved his hand and rubbed his thumb across Hamish's cheek, wiping away some of his tears. "Shh, Hamish. It's okay. Daddy's going to be home any minute," he promised reassuringly. He saw Hamish's eyes brighten ever so slightly.
"Oh..." he sighed, leaning into John's touch as another tear slid silently down his cheek.
"It's okay. I'm sorry you had a bad dream, Hame," John murmured, brushing away more tears as he did so.
"Mmm. 'Kay, John."
"Do you want to talk about it? Sometimes talking helps," he offered.
"No, John," Hamish replied firmly. "Bad."
"Bad..." John repeated sadly, hugging the little boy close. He made a mental note not to tell Sherlock as it would only worry him more.
"Here. Come on up here," he whispered gently, scooting the little boy up and wrapping his arms around him in a tight hug.
"Ta, John," Hamish sighed happily. The two sat there until they were interrupted by the sound of the front door opening.
"John?" came the worried voice of Sherlock. In a few moments, the detective had reached the landing, his coat billowing behind him.
Upon hearing his father's voice, Hamish turned around in John's arms and glanced hopefully towards the stairs.
"Daddy!" he cried, practically jumping off of John's lap. He hurried over, wrapping his arms around the detective's leg.
"Daddy home," he sighed happily, pressing his face into the soft fabric of his father's trousers.
Sherlock shared a quick glanced with John before bending down and lifting the little boy up.
"Yes, Hamish. I'm home," he murmured quietly, hugging the little boy close. "What's wrong, hmm? Just can't sleep?" He felt Hamish nod against his chest.
"No nigh' night at no Daddy," he said, pulling back so he could peer up at his father. "No nigh' night..." he whispered quietly, his chubby fingers curling around the collar of Sherlock's coat.
"I'm sorry," the detective apologized quietly, noticing the tears that were still on his son's small face. "I didn't mean to make you cry..." Tenderly, he used the back of his fingertips to brush away the last of Hamish's tears.
"Mmm," the little boy sighed, leaning forward to rest his head at the base of his father's neck. Sleepily, he leaned up, wrapping his arms around Sherlock's neck, and pressed a tender kiss to the corner of the detective's lips.
"'Kay, Daddy," he reassured sweetly. "'Etter Daddy home."
"Oh, Hamish," Sherlock sighed, smiling sadly at his son. "You're just... Wonderful. I love you," he murmured, leaning forward. Very gently, he kissed Hamish's cheek, inhaling deeply as that strange feeling of longing that had been residing in his chest suddenly dissipated.
"Come on, then, Hamish. Let's get some sleep," he whispered, placing one hand on the back of his son's head. Cuddling the little boy close, he walked over to the couch, and with the help of John, managed to shed his coat. He sat down, and leaned back, moving Hamish so the little boy was resting in his lap.
Realizing how truly tired he was, Hamish leaned forward, and pressed his small form into Sherlock. He closed his eyes, and reached one arm up towards his father's face.
Love in his eyes, Sherlock wrapped his slender fingers around Hamish's small hand. He pressed his hand to his chest, giving the little boy a reassuring squeeze.
"Goodnight, Hamish. Sleep well. I love you," he whispered quietly, pressing a loving kiss to his son's auburn curls.
"'Ove, Daddy," Hamish managed to murmur before quickly falling asleep, wrapped in the comfort of his father's embrace.
Smiling at his son, Sherlock leaned back further so the little boy was in a better position, rather than sitting up. Keeping the little boy stable, he placed one hand Hamish's back, and began to absentmindedly rub his thumb back and forth over the bare skin, a wave of happiness rushing over him.
"You really are wonderful with him," John said quietly, pulling the detective away from his thoughts.
"Hmm? Oh-Well... Yes-I mean I suppose," he stumbled awkwardly, now embarrassed.
"It's not a bad thing, Sherlock," John chuckled. "I was just merely observing, as you so often like to say. He really is a wonderful kid. Very sweet. I actually had a pretty good time. We had no problems all day-well... Up until he had to go to sleep of course."
"Yes," Sherlock murmured, peering at John as the doctor moved to his chair. "I knew I shouldn't have left. He wasn't ready," he added guiltily, subconsciously tightening his grip around Hamish's hand, though he couldn't help but as he felt the little boy sigh against his chest. "Mmm," Hamish murmured, turning his head so his cheek was pressing against Sherlock's chest.
Smiling at his two flat-mates, John continued talking. "I'm not surprised he's so tired; we had a pretty jam-packed day... Most of which was spent playing hide and seek," he chuckled to himself.
"What, John? Hide and seek?" Sherlock asked confusedly.
"What? You mean-You've never heard of hide and seek?" John exclaimed incredulously.
"John," the detective replied slowly, talking in his usual "how-much-of-an-idioit-could-you-be" voice. "You saw how I turned out. Do you think my parents did much of anything with me? Well... besides send me away so they could be rid of me," he added, muttering to himself. He shook his head. "In answer to your original question: No. My parents never played hide and seek with me."
"Oh," John said, slightly saddened by the thought of what Sherlock's childhood must have been like. "Umm... How's the case going?"
"Oh!" Sherlock said excitedly, his eyes brightening with that usual glint he got when he was on a case. "It's simply beautiful. It's so intricate. The kidnapper is brilliant! And of course, that means more fun for me," he added, smiling widely at John. "I will be needing your assistance, though on this one... So... Umm..." he added guiltily, suddenly very interested in the floor. "That means we'll be needing to bring Hamish to the Yard tomorrow."
"What?" John cried, staring at Sherlock with wide eyes. "You can't be serious-Sherlock he's a little child. You cannot just-No. The answer is no," he said firmly, glaring at his flat mate.
"Oh please, John," the detective replied, rolling his eyes. "It's not like I'm taking him to a crime scene! He'll be fine. He'll stay with the two of us the whole time. Besides, it's about time he got out and about to see some of the city," he added gently, gazing fondly down as the little boy took a deep breath.
"But-"
"No. It's not up for discussion. I've already talked to Lestrade. It's all settled. It'll be fun! Besides," he said smugly, "I'll finally get to show off Hamish to everyone. Can't wait to see the look on Donovan's and Anderson's faces." He grinned widely as John rolled his eyes.
"Why am I not surprised?" he sighed, standing up. "Just... Play nice, okay?" he begged.
"Is that a yes, John?" Sherlock replied slyly, smiling as he saw the doctor's eyes narrow at him.
"You're insufferable," he muttered, marching towards the stairs.
"'Night, John," the detective chuckled, smiling smugly to himself.
"Mmm," the doctor replied tersely. He turned around, though, and walked back. "Not sleeping tonight?" he asked.
"No. Need to think. Sleep is a waste of my time. Besides," he added, glancing down at Hamish. "I don't want to wake him." He quickly brushed his thumb over the little boy's back.
"Hmm," John chuckled quietly, smiling at the sleeping boy.
"Right. 'Night, then," he said quickly, attempting to march away again, though he knew he had already lost this battle.
Smiling slyly as he heard John hurry up the stairs to his room, Sherlock, moving very slowly, moved until he was lying down on the couch, Hamish resting on his chest. He closed his eyes, focusing on the reassuring feeling of Hamish's smooth skin beneath his hand; on his son's steady breathing; on the light, beautiful noises the little boy made as he slept; focusing on the way Hamish's fingers curled beneath his hand, resting lightly on his chest. Taking a deep breath in, he allowed himself to escape, delving deep into the details of the case.
"Mmm," Hamish sighed quietly, sleeping soundly on his father's chest.