John checked the clipboard and scanned the information.
Male, early thirties, minor burns from chemical explosion.
The doctor raised his eyebrows at the information. It wasn't everyday that they got a chemical accident in through the doors of St Barts. Pretty rarely actually... It wasn't as though the general public were allowed to just be playing around with dangerous chemicals all the time.
John sighed and prayed it would be a simple process. He wasn't in the right mood for complex procedures and so far today he'd been lucky.
"So, Mr Holmes..." He murmured as he opened the door to the small examination room.
"Call me Sherlock." The voice made John freeze.
"Sherlock?" The Doctor blanched, "What-When... What did you do?!"
The tall man smirked and shrugged nonchalantly, "I had a problem with an experiment." He mumbled a little. John got the vibe that the man was trying to show off a little... He really looked a state.
The tips of the detective's dark curls were singed and black marks from burnt objects were smudged across his face. His suit was ruffled and he looked as though he hadn't slept in even longer than John!
"Why where you playing with chemicals?!" John cried as he began to search through the drawers for the equipment he needed to deal with the irritated skin.
"I wasn't playing..." He pouted as he stropped. "I was conducting a scientific experiment."
The animals littered the small living room floor as though there'd been an explosion in the nearby zoo. They were roughly organised into loose prides of horse-like creatures and cat-like creatures, even if the actual animals weren't from the same species. Hamish's collect of toy animals had merely grown since the moment of the child's birth; it had all started with a panda figure then a lion then a horse and cow with some zebras too. Hamish's little menagerie paid no heed to the laws of the food-chain or predictor-pray dynamics. Every animal was best friends with the next.
John's tired eyes found the energy to widen when he stepped into the tiny room to see barely any floor space. Hamish was placed in the middle of the chaos with his fingers wrapped around two animals: a shark and a small chicken. The child mumbled out words, pretending that the animals were communicating with each other.
"Ishy, it's a mess." The room was only small which made the mess look significantly worse.
John couldn't afford any bigger that a tiny two bedroom flat on the very edge of London. His bedroom was more suited to a single bed and Hamish, the poor soul, had more of a broom cupboard than a bedroom. The kitchen, diner/living room was all the living space they had but Hamish always managed to take over every surface.
The boy's grey eyes peered up at his father, "Hospal was busy." His mispronounced words pulled at the heartstrings of the man.
"Very busy. A strange man came in because he had burnt himself on chemicals."
"Stranger danger." The child added quietly.
"Papa knew him but he is not like most normal people. He is very smart, like you Ishy. You're a clever boy." Job grinned when his son blushed but beamed with pride.
"Papa clever doctor."
"No!" John laughed, "I'm pretty useless."
Hamish stood and ran to his father, wrapping his arms around the man's neck. Small finger clung tightly to the fabric of John's oatmeal coloured, knitted jumper.
"Dinner?" The boy asked, oblivious that it was social protocol for him to comfort the doctor and disagree with the statement.
"Sure, Ishy." He ruffled the boy's blond hair, "What do you fancy?"
"What did Monkey do after that?" John asked, genuinely interested in the pretend activities that his son designed for his stuffed toy. It was a regular occurrence that they would spend dinner time discussing what this toy had decided to do throughout the day while they were at work and the play centre.
"He hided in trees!" The small boy peeked up at the ceiling as though he expected to see his monkey toy hanging from the imaginary canopy above them.
"Monkeys like the trees. Their tails are good for holding on tight." John answered, easily playing into his child's fantasy world. It was much nicer than the real world anyway.
Hamish stared at the toy like he was studying him. The monkey was sat on the only spare chair atop a small stack of books to ensure his head would peep over the edge of the table.
"Monkey don't like trees. They high."
"Since when haven't you liked heights?" John asked with a spoonful of spaghetti hoops inches from his open mouth. His forehead creased in concern. His child should have no reason to dislike heights especially not at his age.
The small boy splat his fork into the tomato sauce covering the hoops, "Daddy didn't like high."
John sighed and rubbed his face, "No, Daddy didn't like heights."
The doctor was desperately hoping that his son wouldn't develop all the fears or habits of his father. He'd only jut began to heal and seeing those traits in his son would rip him apart.