Chapter Nineteen: A Proposal
At some point during the night, Hamish decided he no longer had an interest in sleeping. He tiredly opened his eyes, and shoved his face against Sherlock's chest. "Ahh," he yawned, moaning softly against the detective's shirt.
Scrunching his eyes shut, and shaking his head a little, Hamish squirmed in Sherlock's tight embrace, trying to free his arms. "Daddy?" he grunted tiredly.
Usually, it was a rarity for Sherlock to sleep at all, so when he actually did rest, it was usually very difficult to wake him up.
"Uh," Hamish huffed. He stared up at the detective with a careful gaze.
Sherlock's head was resting on the back of his chair, a peaceful look on his face.
"Da'ey 'ease up." Hamish squirmed again, this time freeing one of his hands from his father's tight hold around him. Tentatively, he reached up, and poked Sherlock's face with one of his chubby fingers. "Daddy," he whispered loudly, turning his head towards John's room, as if he were afraid he would wake the doctor up. "Daddy. Hame up… 'Ease?" Sherlock sighed in his sleep, the noise rumbling and low. Hamish giggled. "Daddy. Up 'ease." He prodded at the detective's face once again.
"Hamish?" Sherlock murmured groggily, his eyes fluttering open. He moaned quietly as he looked down to see a very wide-awake Hamish peering up at him with expectant eyes.
"Morn', Daddy. Hame up," the little boy whispered happily, freeing his other arm from Sherlock's grasp.
"Mmm. Yes. I can see that. May I ask why you're up?" the detective groaned, shifting in his chair, and closing his eyes once again. He pulled Hamish closer to his chest, pressing gently on Hamish's back with his hand.
"Hame up," the little boy stated plainly, giving the detective a look, which clearly said: I thought you were supposed to be smart.
Sherlock tiredly opened his eyes and chuckled as he saw the look his son was giving him.
"Right," he chuckled. "You're up because you're up. Well I suppose I can't argue with your logic." The detective paused, fixing Hamish with a tired stare. "Ugh, fine," he groaned, stand up. He sat the little boy on the ground.
"Yay, Daddy!" Hamish cheered, bouncing up and down on his chubby legs. He ran over to his toy bin, and turned back to his father, waiting anxiously for the detective to come and grab his desired toys. "Come, Daddy," he called.
Sherlock yawned widely, sighing as he heard Hamish beckoning for him. "I'm coming, I'm coming. Shh. You need to be quiet. You might wake John," he whispered, meandering over to the little boy.
"Oh! 'Es, Daddy," Hamish whispered.
Sherlock chuckled half-heartedly as he reached the toy bin. "Okay. Which ones would you like?"
"'Uzz an' draw!" Hamish squealed happily. "Oh!" he gasped, quickly covering his mouth with his chubby hands. "Soh, Daddy."
"It's okay, Hamish," Sherlock chuckled, grabbing several puzzles and one of Hamish's coloring books, along with the box of crayons. "Okay," he sighed dramatically. "Come on, then. Let's go to my room."
"'Kay, Daddy!" Hamish whispered excitedly, toddling towards his father's bedroom.
Despite his tiredness, Sherlock smiled to himself, slowly following the little boy, toys in hand.
"Up we go," he groaned softly, lifting the little boy onto his bed. "Okay, Hamish. Which one first?" Sherlock yawned again as Hamish pointed to one of the puzzles. Smiling, the little boy crawled over towards Sherlock, who had lain down on his back, letting his head rest on the pillows.
"Puzzle. Right," he murmured quietly, rolling on his side as Hamish crawled next to his stomach, snuggling his small form tightly against the detective's stomach, already pulling one of the large pieces out of it's spot.
Trying to keep his eyes open, Sherlock twirled some of Hamish's hair between his fingers, smiling tiredly at the ticklish feeling of his son giggling against his stomach.
When John awoke, already feeling giddy at the prospect of what was awaiting for that day, he hurriedly got dressed (in what he knew was Mary's favorite jumper) and made his way down the stairs, grinning widely, with a small skip in his step. He hummed happily to himself as he reached the bottom of the stairs and walked into the flat.
"Oh!" he said, upon seeing an exhausted looking Sherlock playing with a very happy Hamish on the floor.
"Morning, John," Sherlock said, gazing tiredly up at his flat mate from where he was sitting on the ground.
"Morning," John chuckled, walking further into the room. "How long have you been up?" he asked, chuckling as Sherlock groaned quietly.
"Seven hours, fourteen minutes and twenty-one seconds."
"Oh. Umm… How about I watch him for a little while and you go and take a rest, hmm?" he asked cheerily, bending down and taking ahold of Hamish's chubby hand to help him with a puzzle.
"Yes, please. Thank you, John," Sherlock sighed happily, pushing himself up off the ground.
"Daddy?" Hamish asked worriedly upon seeing his father stand up.
"It's okay, Hamish. I'm just going to take a quick nap. John's going to be with you." He gave the little boy a reassuring smile and quickly bent down to press a kiss to Hamish's forehead.
"Oh. 'Kay. Nigh' night, Daddy."
Sherlock smiled tiredly, and hurried away to his room, glad for the opportunity to rest.
John chuckled and turned his attention back to Hamish. "Didn't want to sleep, huh?" he asked, gazing around the flat at the many toys, puzzles, and coloring books strewn across the floor.
"No, John. Hame up," the little boy replied happily, smiling triumphantly as he dropped a puzzle piece into its proper place.
John chuckled, smiling sweetly at the little boy. "Well, I couldn't really sleep either; it's kind of a big day for me!" he said enthusiastically, grinning at Hamish.
"What, John?" the little boy asked curiously. Puzzle now forgotten, he quickly crawled over to John, pulling himself into the doctor's lap.
"Well," John began excitedly, placing one hand on the little boy's back, "I'm going to ask Mary to marry me today! And your father told me last night that she's going to say yes." He dropped his voice to a whisper. "Which means she will. But you can't tell him that," he whispered loudly against Hamish's ear, causing the little boy to giggle.
"John," Hamish laughed, wrapping his arms around the doctor's arm.
John chuckled, hugging the little boy close. "Well! I say we get some breakfast, hmm? What would you like?" he asked cheerily, standing up with Hamish in his arms. "I can make anything."
"Umm… Cakes?" Hamish asked timidly, gripping tightly onto John's jumper with one hand.
"Pancakes? Sounds wonderful," John smiled.
Sherlock was awoken by the sound of a gentle knocking on his door.
"Mmm," he sighed gratefully, happy for the quick rest. "Yes, John?" he asked, keeping his eyes closed as he heard the doctor enter his room. The smell of pancakes flooded the area. Sherlock smiled. Hamish's favorite.
"I'm off," the doctor said happily, still terribly excited at the prospect of what he was about to do.
"Daddy!" Hamish cried happily, practically bouncing in John's arms.
"Also," John chuckled, setting the little boy on the ground so he could run over to Sherlock's bed, "this little one was asking for you."
The detective chuckled to himself as he felt Hamish tugging on his hand, which was resting over the side of the bed.
"Up 'ease, Daddy?"
Smiling, Sherlock rolled over on the bed, and pulled Hamish onto his chest. He sat up, giving John a warm smile. "Good luck," he said encouragingly. Smiling at Hamish, the detective stood up and gave the doctor an awkward clap on the shoulder. "You'll do great."
John beamed. "Thanks, Sherlock! Right. Well I'll see you two later. I'm off!" Practically bouncing with excitement, John gave Hamish a large kiss on his cheek, and grinned at his two flatmates before hurrying out the door.
Sherlock turned his attention to Hamish, who was staring after John with an incredibly confused look on his face.
Grinning fondly at the little boy, Sherlock brushed some of Hamish's curly hair away from his forehead. "Come on, then," he murmured happily. "Let's go get some fresh air."
"Hmm? Oh! Park?" Hamish asked hopefully, absentmindedly wrapping his chubby fingers around the collar of his father's shirt.
"Yes. We need to tire you out anyway," Sherlock chuckled, smiling at the excited look on his son's face. "Let's go get ready, then, hmm?
"'Es, Daddy!"
Gazing fondly at Hamish, Sherlock moved the little boy to his hip and walked out of the room.
After both father and son had managed to get properly dressed, Sherlock in his signature suit and Hamish in jeans and a cute plaid button up, the two made their way down the stairs, Sherlock pulling on both of their coats as they went.
"Where are you two off to?"
Sherlock turned around to see Mrs. Hudson walking out of her flat.
"Oh," he sighed, setting Hamish on the ground to properly straighten his coat. "We're just going to the park for a little fresh air." Wrapping his fingers around Hamish's chubby hand, Sherlock stood back up, giving Mrs. Hudson a warm smile.
"Ah. I see," the landlady replied, grinning knowingly at Sherlock.
"Should be back soon," the detective said, opening the door. He quickly gave the landlady a little peck on her cheek and a smile. "Say bye-bye, Hamish."
"B-bye Nana!" the little boy called happily, giving a tiny wave of his hand.
"Bye, darling," Mrs. Hudson replied, smiling sweetly at the little boy as she waved back.
Smiling to himself, Sherlock gave his landlady one last smile before hurrying out the door with Hamish.
"Right, then," he sighed, looking in the direction of park. He situated his scarf around his neck, and then gazed back down at Hamish, who had started to talk to himself, wobbling back and forth on his chubby legs. "Ready?" he asked quietly, giving his son's hand a gentle squeeze.
"Mmm-hmm," Hamish replied, pulling his attention away from his thoughts. He grinned widely up at Sherlock and started to toddle forward, gripping tightly onto his father's hand.
Eventually, Sherlock and Hamish reached the park.
"Daddy!" Hamish cried happily, pointing towards his favorite toy set.
"Go ahead," Sherlock chuckled, releasing his grasp on his son's chubby hand.
Squealing with happiness, Hamish rushed forward and, under the watchful eye of Sherlock, began to play.
Lips turned up in a fond half-smile, Sherlock meandered over to the bench closest to Hamish and sat down, ready to rush over towards the little boy at any moment if necessary. Several weeks ago, Hamish had decided he was apparently 'far too old' to have Sherlock play with him, so the detective had resorted to just watching the little boy with a careful eye.
Grinning at his son, Sherlock stood up, walking closer to Hamish, who had now taken quite an interest in playing with the woodchips that covered the ground.
"Hamish," the detective warned as he saw the little boy try and shove the wood in his mouth.
Pouting slightly, Hamish pulled the wooden chip away from his mouth and decided to just give it a thorough examination.
Sherlock smiled at the little boy, chuckling to himself. He took a step forward so as to watch him more closely.
"Ava! Don't run, you might fall! Just—agh. Okay. Right."
Sherlock turned to his left to see a small girl hurry past him, giggling happily. She tripped over her own feet, and began to fall forward.
"Oh! There you go," Sherlock said, instinctively bending down to catch the little girl.
"'Tank you," she said cheerfully, clearly unfazed by her almost-accident. She hurried away, running towards Hamish.
Sherlock chuckled at the little girl as a woman, obviously Ava's mother, hurried up next to him.
"Thank you very much," she sighed, staring worryingly after the little girl.
"Of course." Sherlock gave a small nod of his head towards the flustered woman, already making inferences about her. Single mother. Struggling to find a job. New boyfriend. Mother in hospital. No father.
His thoughts were interrupted as the woman continued to speak to him. "Is that little one yours?" she asked, nodding towards Hamish, who was gazing at Ava.
"Yes," Sherlock answered, smiling at his son.
"I can see the resemblance. He's beautiful." Not knowing how to respond, Sherlock gave the woman an awkward smile. Clearly unfazed, she continued. "How old is he?"
"Almost seventeen months."
"He's simply precious. My Ava's almost three. Oh! My name's Jess, by the way. Sorry about that. Oh!" she gasped excitedly, slapping her hand against Sherlock's arm. "Look at them!'
Trying not to stare at the woman, Jess, with an unusual look on his face, Sherlock turned his attention to what she had alerted him to. He felt his heart stop in his chest and his breath catch in his throat.
Hamish was giggling happily with Ava, grabbing onto the back of her pink shirt with one of his chubby hands as she started to run away, both laughing wildly with each other.
"Ava!" Hamish called happily, toddling after the little girl.
Sherlock stared after his son, as he felt his heart melt in his chest.
"Aww! I'd say they like each other, huh?" Jess said cheerfully, smiling at the two little kids.
"Mmm," was all Sherlock could manage. Trying to catch his breath, he watched as Hamish and Ava hurried back towards them.
"Who's that with you, Ava?" Jess asked, giving Sherlock a knowing smile, which the detective tried to return.
"Hamish, Mummy! He's fun!" Ava squealed happily, grabbing Hamish's arm with her own chubby hand.
Sherlock peered at Hamish, taking notice of the way the little boy was grinning happily at Ava.
"Hamish? Did you make a friend there?" he asked quietly, finally finding his voice.
"'Es, Daddy! Ava!" Smiling widely, Hamish hurried over to Sherlock and wrapped his chubby arms around the detective's leg, pressing his face into the soft fabric.
Sherlock felt a wave of relief wash over him as the tight feeling in his chest suddenly dissipated, and a fluttering sensation flitted through his stomach. He bent down, pulling Hamish into his arms, and pressed a gentle kiss to the little boy's brow as he finally understand the new emotions he was feeling.
"Ava, hmm? Well she seems very nice," he whispered playfully into Hamish's ear. The little boy giggled in his arms, placing one of his hands against Sherlock's lips.
"'Es, Daddy! Play at Ava?" he asked hopefully, keeping his chubby fingers pressed against his father's lips.
Gazing at Hamish with a tender look in his eyes, Sherlock eventually whispered, "Of course. Have fun." Staring at his son, the detective placed Hamish back on the ground, watching with a wistful look in his eyes as the little boy ran away with Ava, squealing happily.
"They're very cute together," Jess said, smiling at the two little kids.
"Mmm."
Jess began to chatter, not seeming to care, or even notice, that the detective was not listening to her.
Sherlock pushed his hands into his coat pockets as he began to mull over what had happened. He realized now that the strange constriction he had felt in his chest was a deep sense of protection for Hamish, as well as the mild shock he had felt. He focused his attention more on the fluttering sensation he had felt in his stomach and, upon coming to the realization, smiled to himself; Hamish was not going to be like him.
Somehow, upon seeing his son playing happily with Ava, he realized that his fears that Hamish would grow up to be like him—unusual, a freak, different—were all in vain. Hamish was normal. Hamish was socializing, just as Sherlock never had when he was young. He was going to be just fine. Hamish was wonderful and beautiful and simply perfect.
"Perfect," Sherlock murmured out loud, not even realizing he'd spoken.
"You think so? Great! We'll definitely have to get together, then, sometime so they can play some more!" Jess inputted happily, thinking Sherlock's words had been in response to her question.
"What? Oh! Umm... Sure I suppose that sounds fine," the detective answered awkwardly, turning his gaze back to Hamish. He barely noticed as Jess' phone began ringing.
"Yes?" she answered. "What? Oh! Of course, I'll be right over. Ava! Come on darling, we have to go... Quickly dear. Say goodbye to Hamish."
Sherlock watched fondly as the little girl pulled Hamish into a tight hug, which received a grunt of surprise from the little boy.
"Bye, Hamish!" Ava called, waving behind her as she hurried away towards her mother, who was already leaving the park.
Sherlock turned his attention back to Hamish, who was staring, wide-eyed, after Ava, with his mouth hanging open slightly.
"Daddy," the little boy sighed contently, slowly walking towards his father. Lips pressed together in a small grin, Sherlock picked up a very dazed-looking Hamish, pulling him onto his hip.
"Daddy... Ava baf'm'ful." The little boy gazed at the detective, and took a deep breath, a wistful look filling his deep green eyes.
Sherlock laughed out loud, pressing a cheerful kiss to Hamish's chubby cheek. "Ohhh, you are simply wonderful," he sighed happily, clutching the little boy close.
"'Ove Ava, Daddy," Hamish sighed, a small smile playing on his lips.
Sherlock grinned. "You do, huh? Well I suppose we'll just have to see her again, then won't we?"
Hamish shook his head, as if to clear his thoughts, and seemed to actually notice his father for the first time.
"Daddy!" he cried, now very happy, as he wrapped his chubby arms around the detective's neck. "'Ove Daddy!"
Sherlock chuckled, pressing one of his hands to the back of Hamish's head. "Well, I love you too, Hamish," he said, smiling into his son's auburn hair.
"Sherlock?" came the familiar voice of John.
Still holding Hamish close, Sherlock turned around to see John, one arm wrapped around Mary's waist, standing together on the sidewalk.
"We're just headed home. Want to follow?" the doctor called happily.
In response, Sherlock headed towards the couple, giving John a wide grin as he noticed the engagement ring on Mary's left ring finger. "Told you," he mouthed.
Grinning, and keeping his arm firmly around Mary's waist, John started to walk back to the flat, Sherlock and Hamish following closely behind.
Sleep—or rather lack thereof—finally catching up with him, Hamish snuggled into his father's coat, burrowing his face against Sherlock's neck. He yawned widely, now thoroughly tired out from all of his running around.
"Sure. Now you decide to sleep," Sherlock mumbled, rolling his eyes. Hoping to help the little boy fall asleep, the detective, who was following closely behind Mary and John, began to rub his hand up and down Hamish's back in a soothing circular motion.
"Mmm," the little boy sighed, taking a deep breath against his father's neck. "Sleep, Da'ey?" he murmured, haphazardly pressing one of his chubby hands to Sherlock's jaw.
"It would be lovely if you did," the detective whispered back, turning his head to give Hamish a gentle kiss.
"Mmmkay, Da'ey."
The four continued walking home in peace, each person content for different reasons. John and Mary chatted happily with each other while Sherlock followed, absentmindedly pressing gentle kisses to Hamish's hair, and forehead and cheeks as the little boy nuzzled deeper against his neck.
"Yes, I know," John laughed. "I mean how—" Suddenly, an ear-piercing sound shattered the air, echoing loudly in the street. Instinctively, both John and Sherlock ducked their heads down.
"John!" Sherlock yelled, contorting his body in an attempt to shield all of Hamish's small form with his own.
"I know, I know!" John shouted back, placing his hand on Mary's back as the three of them began to run. "Hamish—" John started.
"Yes!" Sprinting as fast as he could, Sherlock wrapped his arms around Hamish, covering the back of the little boy's hand with one of his hands. Fear and adrenaline coursing through him, he pressed Hamish's small form close to his chest, tucking the little boy's head under his chin as the sound rippled through the air again...
Gunshots.