Hey guys! So this is just a cute little fluffy chapter for the end of the weekend. Hope you all enjoy it! Thanks! =)
Chapter Twenty-Three: Scared?
Hamish continued to sleep soundly in Sherlock's arms, his small body fitting perfectly against the detective's chest, with his head tucked under his father's chin. Sherlock slowly paced around the flat, tenderly stroking his fingertips over Hamish's curls as he walked, listening to the little boy's gentle breathing.
Shortly after, John returned to the flat, with Mary following closely behind. Minding Hamish's sleeping form, Sherlock quickly sat down in his chair, allowing the doctor and his fiancé to share the couch.
"Are you all right?" he asked Mary quietly, hoping he sounded reassuring. Although he was quite fond of Mary (which he would never admit to John), he never really knew how to start a conversation around her.
"Much better now. Thank you," she said, giving the detective a small smile. "How's he?" She gave a quick nod of her head to Hamish. "Oh. John told me," she added as explanation.
"He's been sleeping practically since we got home, but he was clearly very shaken by the whole situation." Sherlock paused, taking a moment to quickly run his hand through Hamish's curls. "I think he'll be okay, but I fear it may take him a little while fully adjust back."
"Poor little guy," John inputted sadly, gazing at the sleeping boy in his friend's arms. "Has to be hard..."
"Hmm," Sherlock murmured in response, staring down at his son's sleeping form. His thoughts were interrupted, though, by the sound of the front door opening, and someone bustling up the stairs.
Brows pulled together in confusion, both John and Sherlock stared at the doorway, waiting to see who had entered the flat.
"Not to worry," came the drawling voice of Mycroft. "It's just me." His impeccably dressed form slowly entered the flat.
"Shh," Sherlock shushed quietly, nodding towards Hamish.
"Oh! Right. My apologizes. I just came by to reassure you that..." His eyes quickly darted towards Mary, who was gazing curiously at him. "Umm... That everything has been successfully taken care of... And discarded, shall we say?"
"Excellent," Sherlock said, taking a deep breath. "Thank you."
"Well. I'd best be off, then. I've a—"
"You could stay," John interrupted quickly, glancing at Sherlock. "I mean, I know it would mean a lot to Hamish if he woke up and Uncle Mycroft was here." The doctor quickly looked the between the two brothers, a small smile forming on his face.
Mycroft paused, peering at his brother. "Very well. If you insist." Umbrella in hand, he slowly meandered towards the doorway to kitchen, and leaned against the frame. Almost immediately after, the doorbell rang.
"Ah," said John, shooting Sherlock an apologetic glance. "That'll probably be—"
"Hello, guys!" came the cheerful voice of Molly. "Umm... Listen, I could use a little help—"
"Don't worry, John, I've got it!" Lestrade called.
"John," Sherlock whined, shooting the doctor a look. "Did you invite everyone?"
"No," the doctor chuckled, standing up. "Only Molly. Your brother and Lestrade are here on their own accord." He hurried away down the stairs to help Molly, who was chatting happily with Greg.
More for Molly than anything else, Sherlock slowly stood up and made his way to the landing of the stairs, smiling in spite of himself as he saw her heavily pregnant form come waddling around the corner, flanked on either side by both John and Lestrade.
"Oh! Hello there," the pathologist called cheerfully upon seeing the detective at the top of the stairs. She slowly made her way up the rest of the stairs, gratefully thanking the doctor and the Inspector for their help.
"Hello, Molly," Sherlock said quietly, bending down to press a quick kiss to her cheek. "Everything is well, I presume?"
The pathologist smiled, giving the detective a knowing look. "Yes, Sherlock. We're both doing just fine." Sherlock chuckled to himself as Molly gave him a reassuring pat on his shoulder and then made her way into the flat, cradling her stomach as she walked.
"Here. You can take John's chair," Sherlock said, nodding as he sat down in his own.
"Well! It's just like a party, isn't it?" Lestrade said cheerfully, once everyone was properly situated around the tiny flat. "Oh! Sorry," he added quickly, upon receiving a glare from Sherlock.
The flat was suddenly filled with an awkward silence, during which everyone sat around staring at each other, each waiting for someone else to start the conversation, though all of this went unnoticed by Sherlock, as he was preoccupied with playing with Hamish's hair.
"Well, umm," John started awkwardly, standing up off the couch. "I don't know about anyone else, but I could certainly do with a drink, hmm? It's been a pretty crazy day for all of us." With a small smile, the doctor quickly scanned around the room, eyebrows raised in question.
"I would love a drink," Lestrade sighed happily, glad to be relieved of the awkward silence.
"Okay. One. Mary?"
"A drink would be lovely, thank you," she said gratefully, reaching up to give John's hand a loving squeeze. John gave her a reassuring smile before turning his attention back to the guests.
"Mycroft?"
"No thank you," he answered, with a small smile as he slowly twirled the umbrella in his hand.
John nodded, and started to make his way towards the kitchen. "Sherlock?" he asked quietly, turning back towards his flatmate.
"Hmm? What?" the detective asked, pulling his attention away from Hamish.
"A drink," John chuckled. "Do you want a drink?"
"Oh. No, thank you John."
"Of course." With a small nod of his head, the doctor hurried away into the kitchen to grab the beverages for everyone.
Beginning to relax slightly, Mary and Molly started to chat with each other as Mycroft and Lestrade listened in, waiting for John to return with the drinks.
"So when are you due?" Mary asked, leaning back into the soft cushions of the couch.
"About a month and a half," the pathologist answered happily, absentmindedly rubbing her hand across her stomach.
"Are you excited?"
"To be honest," Molly chuckled nervously. "I'm absolutely terrified. I mean, I'm excited, of course," she added quickly. "Just a little bit nervous. I mean I have no idea what to expect."
"Of course," Mary answered reassuringly, giving the pathologist a small smile.
"Right!" John called, exiting the kitchen with bottles in his hand. "I hope this is all right for everyone?"
"Wonderful," Lestrade said happily, hurrying forward to take one of the drinks out of John's hands.
Chuckling, the doctor quickly dolled out the rest of the bottles, saving one for himself.
Drinks in hand, and getting comfortably situated around the flat, everyone started to chat lightly with each other, all trying to talk away the worry and panic of earlier that day.
Worried that the increasingly loud noise would wake Hamish, Sherlock stood up, excusing himself from the room, and made his way into the kitchen. Upon feeling the movement, though, and having already been slightly jostled by the loud chattering, Hamish shifted in the detective's arms, eyes slowly blinking open.
"Mmm," he hummed tiredly, eyebrows pulling together in confusion as he heard the loud noise of talking coming from the usually quiet flat.
"What loud, Daddy?" he asked, pressing his face into Sherlock's shoulder in an effort to escape the offensive sound.
The detective chuckled quietly, angling himself so Hamish could better gaze around the flat. "Well," he murmured quietly, pressing a quick kiss to the little boy's hair, "It appears we have a few guests. See? Uncle Mycroft is here... And Aunt Molly and Mary."
Still tired and now very confused, Hamish pulled away from Sherlock's shoulder, turning to gaze around the flat. He gasped quietly, jumping in his father's arms as he saw all of the people crowding around his small home.
"What doing, Daddy?" he asked quietly, gripping onto the detective's shirt.
"They all came to check in on you," Sherlock answered quietly, giving Hamish a reassuring pat on the back. "It's okay, love." He leaned closer to the little boy's ear, whispering so only he could hear. "I'm right here."
Hamish nodded slowly, releasing his grip on the detective's shirt. "'Kay, Daddy," he whispered, relaxing into Sherlock's arms as he gazed around the flat. "Help Hame?"
"Yes," inputted Molly, hoping to lift the little boy's spirits. "We all came to help you."
Clearly noticing her for the first time, Hamish gasped happily at the sight of Molly, a large smile spreading across his face as he leaned toward her in Sherlock's arms. "Aunt Molly!" he cried happily, stretching his hands towards her.
Not wanting her to have to move, Sherlock hurried over to where Molly was seated and gently passed Hamish over before moving to his own chair. He sat down, crossing his legs as he gazed fondly at his son's happiness, glad that there was a distraction to take the little boy's mind off of the earlier events of that day.
"Molly," the little boy sighed, wrapping his arms around the pathologist's neck in a tight hug. "Oh," he gasped in wonder upon noticing her larger belly for the first time.
"Daddy!" he called, turning around to stare, wide-eyed at his father. Mouth hanging open in awe, Hamish tenderly pressed his hand to Molly's stomach, squealing happily as he felt the baby move under his touch. "Wow, Daddy!" he said, grinning widely at his father.
Sherlock smiled lovingly, chuckling at his son's wonder. "I know," he said enthusiastically. "It's amazing, isn't it? And just think—soon, we'll be able to see the baby you're feeling right now."
Though it didn't seem possible, Hamish's eyes widened even more, and he glanced with amazement between Molly's stomach and Sherlock.
"Really, Daddy?" he gasped, placing another hand to the pathologist's belly.
"Mmm-hmm," Molly hummed happily, sharing a quick smile with Sherlock.
"Wow..." Hamish sighed, smiling as he felt another kick under his palms.
"Baby soon, Daddy?"
"Yes," the detective answered quietly, a smile playing on his lips as he watched Hamish. "We'll get to see Molly's baby soon."
Smiling in amazement, the little boy continued to sit with Molly, giggling happily each time he felt the baby move.
Eventually, after having noticed Mycroft, Hamish practically bounced out of Molly's lap, to be caught just in time by Sherlock, before quickly toddling over to his uncle.
"Unk My!" he cried happily, reaching his arms up in expectation. Chuckling to himself, and smiling smugly at the eye roll Sherlock had just given him, Mycroft bent down, lifting the little boy into his arms.
"Why, hello," he greeted happily, allowing Hamish to closely examine his tie, which by now was just a ritual for the two.
"Molly baby!" the little boy informed excitedly, taking is attention away from the tie so he could point at Molly.
"Yes, I know," Mycroft chuckled. "So I've heard." He smiled as Hamish dutifully resumed the examination of his tie, carefully running his chubby finger over the bumpy fabric. He decided to say nothing about the small smile he saw creeping onto his brother's face.
After having been passed around to everyone in the room, and talking at length with each one, Hamish was seated in Sherlock's lap once again, playing happily with the detective's fingers as the adults chatted happily, the stress of that day now almost completely gone.
Laughing at something John had just said, Molly glanced towards the clock on the wall. "Well," she sighed contently, "I think it's time for me to be off." Smiling, she pushed herself upward, struggling slightly as she tried to pull herself out of the doctor's deep chair.
"Help, Daddy!" Hamish cried frantically, quickly sliding off of Sherlock's lap as he saw Molly struggling to get out of the chair.
Smiling at his son, the detective quickly stood up and reached his hands forward, helping the pathologist to her feet.
"Ohh. Thank you," she sighed gratefully.
"Here, Aunt Molly. Hame help." Smiling once again, now that he was sure Molly was fine, Hamish reached up, wrapping his chubby hand around several of Molly's slender fingers. "Hame help at stairs."
"Oh!" the pathologist exclaimed happily, giving the little boy a warm smile. "Thank you very much, Hamish." She quickly glanced back to share quick smile with Sherlock. "Lead the way."
Smiling proudly, and keeping his hand wrapped firmly around Molly's fingers, Hamish walked toddled forward towards the stairs, tenderly leading Molly all the way.
"Come, Daddy?" he asked, pausing to turn back towards his father.
Unable to contain his happiness, Sherlock grinned. "Of course." Smiling happily, the detective moved forward, trailing slowly behind Hamish as he led Molly to the stairs, not even caring as he saw John take out his phone and start to film them.
"Oh," Hamish said, frowning as he reached the landing, realizing he would have to go down both flights by himself.
"Umm..." A worried look on his face, he turned back to Sherlock. "Daddy?"
Chuckling, the detective bent down, and lifted Hamish into his arms. "Here. How about we both help Aunt Molly down the stairs? You can keep ahold of her hand, and I'll walk us down, hmm?"
"'Es, Daddy," Hamish answered seriously, nodding in agreement.
Glad to be back in his father's arms, the little boy relaxed, that proud smile returning to his face as he kept a firm hold of Molly's hand while they slowly made their way down the stairs.
"Thank you so much, Hamish," Molly said happily, upon reaching the bottom of the stairs. "I'm not sure I could have done it without you." She smiled warmly, giving the little boy a quick wink.
Giggling, Hamish turned his Sherlock's arms, and pressed his face into the detective's shoulder.
"'Es, Molly," he replied quietly, turning so he could just see her out of the corner of his eye.
Molly chuckled, leaning forward to give the little boy a quick kiss on the cheek. "Bye-bye, Hamish. I'll see you later, okay?"
"B-bye," the little boy giggled happily, giving her a sweet smile before pressing a tender kiss to her fingers, which were still held in his hand."Bye, Baby!" he called, leaning forward towards Molly's stomach.
Chuckling happily, Sherlock leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Molly's cheek. "Bye, Molly. Take care."
Smiling warmly, she gave the detective a quick squeeze on the arm before hurrying out the door.
As the door shut behind her, Sherlock turned to Hamish, who was still giggling madly in his arms.
"What?" he asked comically, laughing as the little boy pressed his face into his shoulder once again. "What's so funny, hmm?" Grinning, he gently tickled Hamish's neck.
"Daddy!" the little boy laughed, shoving the detective's hands away. "Silly... Daddy?"
"Yes?" Sherlock chuckled, already making his way up the stairs.
"S'cret?" Hamish asked hopefully, wrapping his chubby hand around the detective's collar.
"A secret?" Sherlock gasped. "Why, I'd love to hear a secret!" Smiling, he paused on the steps, leaning his head down towards Hamish.
Grinning widely, the little boy leaned up, and slowly brushed away some of his father's curls before pressing his lips to his ear and whispering bashfully, "Molly bat'um'ful."
Giggling madly, Hamish pulled away, and buried his face in Sherlock's shirt, laughing against the detective's skin.
Sherlock stared down at his son with a loving gaze before pulling the little boy close. "Not to worry," he murmured. "Your secret is safe with me." Chuckling, he pressed a tender kiss to the top of Hamish's curls, continuing his way up to the flat, with the little boy giggling all the way.
After Molly, Mycroft was the next to leave, giving a quick goodbye hug and kiss to Hamish before politely excusing himself. Next was Lestrade, who waved a quick goodbye to everyone before hurrying out of the flat. Mary and John remained behind for a little while, sitting snuggled together on the couch as the daylight quickly slipped away outside.
"Well," the doctor sighed eventually, standing up to walk over to Hamish, who was seated on the ground, desperately trying to pull his shirt off. "Hey," John chuckled, bending down. He quickly tugged the shirt off, tossing it over the arm of his chair. "Well, Mary and I are headed off, little man. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"
"Oh," Hamish said sadly, a small frown forming on his face. "John bye-bye?"
The doctor smiled sadly before pulling the little boy into a tight hug. "Yeah, I'm going bye-bye. But it's okay! I'll be back tomorrow, I promise." Smiling reassuringly, John leaned back so he could see Hamish. "Now. Can I have a goodnight kiss?"
Despite his sadness at having John leave, a small smile tugged at the corners of Hamish's lips. "'Es, John," he whispered happily, leaning up towards the doctor's face. Smiling sweetly, the little boy pressed a gentle kiss to John's cheek before giving him a tight hug. "Nigh', night, John," he whispered against the doctor's jumper.
"Goodnight, little man," John replied quietly, quickly kissing Hamish on the forehead. He stood up, pulling the little boy into his arms. "Now can you say bye-bye to Mary?"
"B-bye, Mary," Hamish replied quietly, giving a tiny wave of his hand and a small smile.
"Good man." Smiling fondly, John placed Hamish back on the ground just as Sherlock emerged from his bedroom, a pair of small pajama bottoms in hand.
"Did you already say goodbye to John?" he asked, setting the fabric on the back of the doctor's chair.
"'Es, Daddy," Hamish replied happily. He hurried over towards Sherlock, grabbing a fistful of the detective's pants in his hand. Eyes drooping slightly, the small boy leaned against his father's leg before giving another little wave to John and Mary as the couple slowly made their way to the stairs.
Smiling down at Hamish, Sherlock gave Mary a quick kiss on the cheek and said his goodbye's to John before the two silently slipped out of the flat.
"Well!" the detective exclaimed quietly, turning his attention back to Hamish, who was now leaning fully against his leg as he yawned widely. "That was rather fun, I suppose." Smiling as he felt the little boy nod feebly against his leg, Sherlock bent down and quickly pulled the little boy into his arms. "Time for bed, hmm?" he whispered.
"'Es 'ease, Daddy," Hamish replied quietly, nodding against his father's shoulder.
A small small on his lips, Sherlock slowly made his way to his bedroom, gently bouncing the little boy in his arms. He quickly changed Hamish's nappy, not even bothering with the pajama bottoms, and then started to place the little boy in his crib.
"Daddy?" Hamish asked quietly, tapping on Sherlock's fingers as he stared up at him with tired eyes.
"Yes?" the detective asked gently, pulling his son's small form back into his arms.
"Umm... Ask?"
"Of course," Sherlock answered gently, brushing away some of the little boy's curls.
Hamish paused, looking around the room as if he was worried about what he wanted to ask. "Umm... Daddy have scared?"he whispered quietly, eyes finally coming back to the detective's face.
Sherlock paused, slightly taken aback by his son's question. "Do I ever get scared?" he asked, gazing down at the little boy.
Hamish nodded tiredly, leaning forward to rest his head against his father's shoulder. "'Es, Daddy," he whispered, moving his hand to the base of Sherlock's neck.
Taking a deep breath, the detective leaned back in the bed, allowing his back to rest against the pillows and the headrest. "Yes," he murmured gently, peering down at Hamish. "I've been scared before. I got scared just today... I was scared when we were shot at, and I was afraid you might get hurt..." He paused, looking down at his son, who seemed to be mulling over his words. "Why, Hamish?" he prompted gently, giving the little boy a reassuring rub over his back.
"Hame had scared," Hamish replied quietly, taking a moment to gaze up at Sherlock with wide eyes.
"You got scared?" the detective whispered sadly, staring down at Hamish, who nodded against his chest.
"'Es, Daddy... Ouch... An'... Hame to know scared silly." Almost as if he seemed embarrassed by what he'd just said, the little boy quickly shoved his face into the detective's shirt, curling himself inward.
"No," Sherlock sighed sadly, pressing his hand to the back of Hamish's head. "Hamish?" he asked gently, urging the little boy to look at him. "Hamish, please look at me..."
Sniffling, almost as if he was going to cry, Hamish slowly pulled his face away from Sherlock's chest, and gazed up at the detective with sad, embarrassed eyes.
Smiling sadly, Sherlock placed one hand to the side of his son's face. "Hamish," he started, staring into the little boy's deep green eyes. "Being scared is never something to be embarrassed about, all right? It's perfectly normal. Everyone feels scared—even me. I promise, it's perfectly all right to feel scared... And you had every right to feel the way you did today. There is nothing wrong with that, okay?" The detective smiled reassuringly, brushing his thumb across the top of the little boy's cheek.
Taking a deep breath, Hamish nodded against his father's hand, leaning into the touch. "'Es, Daddy... So... Daddy have scared?"
Smiling lovingly, Sherlock pulled Hamish's sleepy form into his lap. "Yes. I get scared. In fact... Would you like to hear my secret?" he asked, dropping his voice to a whisper as he leaned in closer to Hamish.
"Oh," the little boy sighed. "'Es, Daddy." Eyes wide with anticipation, Hamish leaned forward, a tiny smile playing on his lips.
Gazing fondly at his son, Sherlock bent down, pressing his lips to the small boy's ear. "Once, not too long ago, John and I were on a case together, investigating a top-secret facility..." He paused, taking a moment to playfully tickle Hamish's stomach. "And guess what scared us?" The detective leaned back so he could see Hamish's face.
"What, Daddy?" the little boy whispered, his hands grabbing a fistful of the detective's shirt in anticipation.
Lips turned up in a half smile, Sherlock widened his eyes. "We both got scared out of our wits... By a dog!" he cried, quickly leaning forward to tickle Hamish's belly again.
"Doggy?" the little boy cried happily, laughing as he fell onto the bed. "Really, Daddy?" he giggled, gazing happily up Sherlock from where he was lying on the bed.
"Really," the detective said, bending down to blow his lips against Hamish's smooth skin. "But—and you can't tell John I said this... He was more scared of the dog than I was!"
Grinning, Hamish continued to laugh happily, wrapping his hands around Sherlock's fingers. "So scared 'kay?" he sighed happily, trying to catch his breath.
"Yes," Sherlock murmured, smiling down at Hamish as he wrapped his hands around the little boy's fingers. "It's perfectly okay to be scared." Taking a deep breath, he pulled back before quickly bending down again to press several quick kisses to Hamish's cheeks and hair. "And don't you forget it!" he chuckled, pulling the little boy into his arms.
"Mmm," he sighed contently, closing his eyes as he caught his breath. "Ta, Daddy.'Ove," he said quietly, a small smile on his lips. "Nigh, night."
Gazing lovingly at the little boy in his arms, Sherlock slowly bent down and pressed a tender kiss to Hamish's brow. "Goodnight, Hamish... I love you, too."
With one last, deep sigh, the little boy fell asleep, that small smile still on his lips.
Smiling lovingly, Sherlock slowly moved to the other side of the bed and gently lowered Hamish's sleeping form into the crib. "Goodnight," he whispered again, running his thumb over the little boy's cheek. "Sleep well..."