Hey everyone! Okay, so I just finished this like two minutes ago (its 1:22), so, per the norm., there are probably going to be lots of errors! Please excuse! Thank you so much! I also want to thank everyone for the amazing feedback I have gotten on the last two chapters! You all are really so wonderful and your reviews help me to keep writing. So thank you very much! =)
Chapter Twenty-Three: Napping
Hamish recovered quickly, soon returning to his normal self, with the scare of the shooter now over. However, both John and Sherlock had taken notice of the way the small boy had started to cling to the detective more frequently than usual, refusing to go anywhere without his father close by. And though Sherlock felt he should be worried, he secretly enjoyed having Hamish close with him.
Sherlock was seated in the kitchen, staring into his microscope with concentrated eyes. Hamish, whose favorite past time was watching his father think, was standing on the kitchen floor, one hand gripping the fabric of Sherlock's trousers as he stood, body wobbling slightly. "Mmm," he hummed to himself, a small smile playing on his lips as he heard the detective start to mumble to himself. With a content little sigh, Hamish leaned forward, pressing his cheek against Sherlock's leg.
"Could it be poison?" John called from the living room. He was seated at the table, eyes quickly skimming over the screen of his laptop. "I mean it fits everything Lestrade told us about him... The only question is, what kind of—"
"Of course!" Sherlock cried triumphantly, quickly pushing away his chair as stood up. "Tetrodotoxin! It all makes perfect sense now; how could I possibly have missed—Oh! Sorry, Hamish," he added hurriedly, realizing he'd knocked the little boy over as he turned. He quickly bent down and pulled the little boy, who was frowning as he sat on the ground, onto his hip. "Sorry," he apologized again, pressing a gentle kiss to his son's boy's temple.
Though momentarily upset at having been knocked over, Hamish was now smiling once again, giggling happily as Sherlock swung him around the room.
"Ohhh," the detective sighed contently, happy that the case was finally solved, seeing as he'd been working on it for three days straight, with little to no sleep.
Bouncing Hamish on his hip, Sherlock meandered out of the kitchen, a smug grin on his face. "Really, John," he sighed, giving the doctor a sideways glance. "You of all people should have known that... Tetrodotoxin. Simple." Humming happily to himself, the detective sat down behind John, moving Hamish to his knee as he settled into his chair. "Yes," he told the little boy earnestly, giving him a small wink. "John most certainly should have known that," he whispered, brushing some of the little boy's curls out of his eyes.
"No, Daddy!" Hamish giggled happily, grabbing ahold of the hand Sherlock had wrapped around his middle. "John good!"
Smiling fondly at his son, the detective gave a small nod of his head, moving his hand so he was covering Hamish's fingers with his own. "I supposed I should apologize now, hmm?"
"'Es, Daddy. Oh no make John said."
"Otherwise I'll make John sad?" Sherlock chuckled, giving a gentle squeeze of his hand. "Well," he sighed, feigning reluctance. "Yes... I guess I'll apologize so John won't be sad. And because that's what good boys do, right?"
"'Es! Right, Daddy," the little boy said cheerfully, giving a firm nod of his head as he smiled at John. "Good 'ay sorry."
"Very good," Sherlock praised. He took a deep breath, giving Hamish an over-exaggerated worried look, before turning back to John, who was now grinning with smugness.
"I'm ready," he chanted in a sing-song voice, raising his eyebrows at his flat mate.
"Fine. I'm sorry," Sherlock sighed dramatically, giving John a quick smile. He turned back to Hamish and raised his eyebrows, as if for reassurance. "Good?" he asked quietly, lips quirking up in a smile.
Hamish grinned and scooted forward in his father's lap. "Good, Daddy... Ver' 'etter." With a small sigh, the little boy pressed his face into Sherlock's chest and, as best he could, wrapped his chubby arms around the detective's waist.
"Very better," the detective repeated quietly, pulling his son's small body even closer to his chest. He tucked the little boy's head under his chin and turned back to exchange a smile with John. "Could you call Lestrade?" he mouthed quietly.
"'Course." With a quick nod and a smile, the doctor stood up, closing his laptop as he pulled out his phone. He hurried into the kitchen, already talking to the Inspector. "Greg. Yes, hello. Yep! Just now actually..." His voice slowly trailed off as he entered the kitchen.
"Mmm," Sherlock sighed, leaning back in the chair as he allowed Hamish to bend back, using his arms as a backrest for the little boy. Three days of no sleep finally catching up with him, the detective yawned widely, resting into the comfort chair as he felt the last bit of adrenaline leave his body.
"Daddy?" Hamish asked worriedly, reaching forward to rest his chubby fingers against the detective's lips. "Sleepy tie at Daddy?" he asked gently, fingernails scraping against his father's skin as his fingers curled.
"Mmm," Sherlock hummed in response, gazing down at his son with tired eyes. "Yes. Sleeping time for Daddy." He gave Hamish a small smile, quickly brushing his fingertips across the small boy's forehead. With a deep sigh, he stood up, setting Hamish on the ground just as John re-emerged from the kitchen.
"All good," the doctor said cheerfully, pausing as he saw how exhausted-looking his flat mate had suddenly become. He chuckled to himself, rolling his eyes as he moved forward towards the father and son. "I told you it would catch up with you," he said smugly, bending down so he was at eye-level with Hamish. "Hey, little man. Daddy needs to go and take a quick sleep now, okay? So how about you come with me, and we let Daddy take a rest, hmm?"
Instantly, the smile left Hamish's face, to be quickly replaced by a deep frown. He wrapped one chubby arm around the detective's leg, reaching up with his other hand to grab ahold of Sherlock's hand. "No 'ease, John," he said firmly, grip tightening around his father's hand. "Stay Daddy. At sleepy."
"It's all right, John," Sherlock reassured gently, giving Hamish's fingers a small squeeze. "He can stay with me for a little while. I'll be okay."
John sighed, giving his friend another eye roll. "All right," he said skeptically, shrugging as he smiled down at Hamish, who had clearly relaxed, and was now leaning against Sherlock's leg, his own chubby fingers held loosely in the detective's.
"Nigh' night, Daddy at John," he said quietly, tugging at his father's fingers.
"Right. Goodnight, John," Sherlock said quietly, chuckling down at Hamish before giving John a thankful smile. "Good?" he murmured, gazing down at the little boy.
"Good."
Yawning again, and with Hamish's hand held in his own, Sherlock walked forward, making his way to his room.
"Could you come in and check on him?" he whispered to John as he walked by. "Just in case—you know, I'm not up yet?"
"'Course," the doctor replied, giving his flat mate a light pat on the shoulder. "Now go sleep!" he said firmly. "Doctor's orders."
Sherlock huffed a chuckle, rolling his eyes. "Right. Well, then. Come on Hamish," he added gently, tugging the little boy forward.
"Oh. 'Es, Daddy."
John chuckled as he watched a very tired Sherlock disappear into his room with Hamish, who had started to chatter happily to himself as he toddled forward.
"Ohh," the detective sighed tiredly as he collapsed onto the bed, the hand holding Hamish's still hanging off the bed.
"Uhh... Daddy?" the little boy asked quietly, tugging on Sherlock's hand, as he was still on the floor.
"Right. Sorry, Hamish... Up we go." With a soft groan, the detective pulled Hamish onto the bed, gently placing his small body to his left. "There we go," he murmured, rolling onto his side and settling comfortably into the warm bed. "There we go..."
"Daddy 'kay?" Hamish asked worriedly, pulling the detective's hand into his lap.
"Hmm? Oh, yes. Yes, I'm okay, Hamish," Sherlock reassured gently, opening his eyes to give the little boy a reassuring smile. "Just tired, that's all... It's okay." He quickly brushed his free hand over Hamish's cheek.
"Oh," the little boy sighed in relief. "Good, Daddy... 'Kay... Nigh' nigh'. S'eepy." With a tiny smile on his lips, Hamish leaned forward and haphazardly pressed his hands to Sherlock's face. He placed one of his hands over the detective's eyes. "Nigh, Daddy..."
Finding the feel of Hamish's chubby fingers against his face soothing, the corner of his lips turned up in a smile as his eyes slid shut. "Mmm." Before falling asleep, Sherlock gently wrapped his long fingers around his son's chubby stomach, pulling the little boy closer to his torso.
Staring peacefully at his now-sleeping father, Hamish removed his hands from Sherlock's face, and bent back, resting comfortably in the detective's touch. He scooted forward, resting his head against Sherlock's waist, as he absentmindedly traced the detective's fingers. His sea-green eyes slowly meandered around the room as his head moved up and down with the gentle rise and fall of his father's breathing.
"Hamish?" John whispered quietly, opening the door to Sherlock's room. He slowly entered the room, and couldn't help but pause and smile at the sight of his flat mate, sleeping soundly on the bed, with Hamish's tiny form lying across his side.
"'Es, John?" the little boy asked quietly, opening his eyes to gaze at the doctor from where he was resting.
"Hey, buddy. Listen, can I take you with me for a moment? I need your help with something," he whispered, hurrying over to the bed.
"Hame help?" Hamish asked quietly, lifting his head to gaze at John.
"Yes," the doctor murmured, smiling at the little boy.
"'Eave, Daddy," he stated, frowning as he realized what this would require.
"Only for a little while," John reassured him with a small smile.
Hamish contemplated for a moment, his grip tightening around Sherlock's limp fingers. "'Kay, John," he whispered eventually, reaching his free arm up towards John in expectation.
"Good man," the doctor praised. Moving slowly and carefully, so as not to wake Sherlock, though he knew he wouldn't, John slowly pulled Hamish from the detective's grasp, struggling slightly to pry his fingers from around the little boy's middle.
"There," he sighed now that Hamish was in his arms. "Come on, then." Bouncing the little boy, John hurried out of the room, shutting the door behind him. "All right, we have to go down to Mrs. Hudson's flat, okay?" he asked, giving the little boy a light pat on the back.
"Nana?" Hamish asked, now excited about the prospect of getting to see the landlady.
"Yep! I need your help with a decision, okay?"
"Oh... 'Es, John! Hame help!" Grinning, Hamish clapped his hands together once, bouncing in the doctor's arms.
"Excellent." Chuckling at the little boy's excitement, John hurried down the stairs to Mrs. Hudson's flat, where the landlady was humming to herself as she danced around the kitchen. "Oh!" she called happily, rushing forward to give Hamish a quick kiss on the cheek. "Hello, love!"
"Nana!" the little boy called happily, bending forward in John's arms to give her a tight hug around the neck. "He'o! Hame help?"
"Oh! Yes. Right over there, darling," Mrs. Hudson replied cheerfully, nodding to her sitting room. "I've got to finish up cooking in here, but John can take you over there."
Flashing the landlady a smile, John made his way into the sitting room where several rolls of tape, many yards of wrapping paper, and lots of un-wrapped items were strewn across the floor.
"John... What doing?" Hamish asked curiously, gazing down at the mess around the doctor's feet.
John laughed, giving the little boy a quick kiss on the cheek. "Well this is what I need your help with," he explained, sitting down on the ground. He placed Hamish in his lap, chuckling as he saw how overwhelmed the little boy clearly was.
"John?" he whispered, gripping tightly onto the doctor's jumper as his eyes scanned the mess. "No 'ease Hame help," he said firmly, shaking his head.
"No, no, no," John laughed, smiling at the boy in his lap. "Not with cleaning the mess up. I need help with this." Keeping Hamish close to his chest, John scooted forward towards the table where many items were resting upon the surface. He pulled two, a coffee mug and a small pop-out magnifying glass, off of the table and onto the floor, before turning his attention back to Hamish.
"Hamish," he began gently, pulling the little boy's attention back to him. "Tomorrow is Daddy's birthday, okay? And you need to give him a gift, but I didn't know which of these you would want to give him. So! Which do you want to give Daddy as a birthday present?"
"Tre's'nt? Like Hame?"
"Yes!" John encouraged happily. "Just like you got on your birthday not too long ago, remember?"
A large grin spread across Hamish's face as he stared at John. "Hame for Daddy?" he asked excitedly, pointing back at the two items on the floor.
"Yep! You get to pick one. Which do you want?"
Eyes wide with excitement, Hamish stared down at the two choices in front of him. Worrying his lip as he debated, the little boy eventually took a deep breath before pointing to the magnifying glass.
"'Es, John," he said decidedly, giving a firm nod of his head.
"Wonderful," John murmured, standing up once again. "Thank you very, very much, Hamish," he said, giving the little boy another kiss. "You've been a great helper."
"Ta, John!" Hamish cried happily, reaching up to wrap his arms around the doctor's neck. "Daddy 'prise ah-morrow?" he asked hopefully, holding onto to John's jumper as they made their way back into Mrs. Hudson's kitchen.
"Yep! Tomorrow's Daddy's birthday, and we're giving him a surprise party. But shh! You can't tell him, otherwise it won't be a surprise anymore, see?" John smiled as Hamish nodded earnestly.
"'Es, John. S'cret."
"Exactly! A secret... All right... Now say bye-bye to Mrs. Hudson. We'll see you tomorrow!"
"B-bye, Nana!" Hamish called happily, waving at the busy landlady.
"Bye, love," she replied cheerfully, pausing to give the little boy a warm smile. "See you tomorrow!"
"'Es! Shh," Hamish warned quietly, pressing is fingers to his mouth as his looked up, almost as if he were afraid Sherlock would fall out of the ceiling, having heard the entire secret.
"Right. Of course, darling," Mrs. Hudson whispered back, smiling at John.
"See you Mrs. H.," John chuckled, exiting her flat.
"All right," the doctor sighed as he made his way back up the stairs. "Do you want to go back in with Daddy?"
"'Es 'ease, John. Daddy 'eed Hame."
John smiled, tugging the little boy closer to his chest. "Of course he does. You've been a big help today, Hame. Thank you," the doctor whispered as he entered the quiet flat. "You have a good rest with Daddy, now, okay?"
Hamish nodded, leaning his head against John's shoulder as they entered Sherlock's room. "'Es, John," he whispered quietly, reaching his arms down towards his father's sleeping form. "Daddy an' Hame nigh nigh'."
"Right," John smiled, giving the little boy one last kiss on the cheek. "There you go." Moving slowly, the doctor lowered Hamish back onto the bed, placing him in the small gap between Sherlock's hand and his chest.
"Ta, John," Hamish whispered, stretching up towards the doctor as he pulled away. John smiled as he felt the little boy press a gentle kiss to his cheek.
"Thank you, Hamish," he murmured quietly. "Have a good nap, you two."
"Mmm," the little boy sighed, settling into the warmth of Sherlock's body as John silently left the room, closing the door behind him.
Sensing his son's presence, Sherlock's hand gently wrapped around Hamish's middle, subconsciously pulling him closer.
"Hmm," he sighed in his sleep upon feeling the little boy close to his chest. His lips turned up ever so slightly.
Yawning widely, Hamish lay down on the bed, and snuggled forward, pressing his tiny form against Sherlock's chest. Sighing contently, he curled himself inward, nuzzling further into the detective's warm body. A small smile on his lips as his eyes fluttered open and close, Hamish reached up, draping one arm over Sherlock's shoulder as his breathing slowed and quieted.
With one last deep breath, the little boy's eyes slid shut and he fell asleep, his arm slowly rising and falling with each of Sherlock's deep breaths.