“Too Close” - John/Sherlock featuring Hamish
“Father will collect me from school today?”
John finished cutting the sandwich and began wrapping it for Hamish’s lunch. ”That’s right, Hal. Do you think you can help him mind his manners and behave?” Each of them shared a conspiratorial grin.
“Yes, Dad. It’ll be okay. Ms. Davis only cried for a few minutes that time. And she has a nice new boyfriend, now.”
“So does her old boyfriend, I expect,” muttered John.
“Stars” - featuring Hamish Watson-Holmes
“Hurry up, Hal, and don’t disturb your Father; he’s working. Here, let me help you with that jacket, Okay?”
John knelt down and fastened the toggle-and-loop buttons on Hamish’s jacket - the one he couldn’t help call ‘Paddington’s Coat’ no matter how much it upset a certain Consulting Detective.
A few feet away, Sherlock looked up and caught John’s eye.
“What’s this? Hamish should be in bed asleep, John. Where are you two going?”
Hamish offered a broad grin that showed off the new gap at the bottom. “We’re going to look for my TOOF!” he announced.
“Yes, Sherlock, that’s right. We won’t be a minute. Come on, Hal, here we go,” Despite his best efforts, John wasn’t able to drag Hamish out of earshot in time to end the conversation.
“Hamish, your tooth is -“
John made a loud “whiiiishhhhht!” sound through his teeth and shook his head at the man who shared his life, and who was now sitting on the leather sofa, surrounded by stacks of files and (most likely gore-filled) photographs.
In only three bounds, Hamish was halfway to the coffee table, bursting to share his happy news: “Daddy says that the Tooth Fairy takes our baby teeth away and uses them to make the stars!”
“SOME of the stars, Hal.”
“Some of the stars! We’re going to see if we can see mine tonight!”
Piercing silver eyes darted from Hamish to John. “Is that what your Daddy says?”
“Sherlock….” John’s voice was filled with warning.
The eyes shot back to Hamish. “And what do you think, Hamish? Do you think that sounds possible?”
Hamish frowned for a moment, looked down, then looked up at his Dad. “I don’t know.”
“Right. Okay. Remember, Sherlock Holmes, you brought this on yourself.” John bent down, tousled Hamish’s dark curls, and said, “Hal, ask your Father to tell you what the stars really are, and how they got in the sky, and why they don’t fall down on us. Oh, and why they make different patterns depending on where you are when you look at them.”
Big, silvery-blue eyes turned on Sherlock. “Father? What are the stars REALLY, then? How did they get up there in the sky?”
If it hadn’t been for the strict ‘no-swearing-in-front-of-the-boy’ rule in their house, Sherlock Holmes might have impressed even his ex-Army partner with the phrases that seemed to be forming on his lips. Instead, he clamped his mouth shut for a few seconds, narrowed his eyes at the smug, sandy-haired object of his rage, and picked up another file from beside him on the sofa.
He opened it, began reading, and did not look up when he answered.
“It’s possible some are baby teeth.”
Hamish nearly jumped up and down with happiness. “Will you come help us look for mine?”
“No. Thank you.”
John took Hamish by the shoulders and bundled him toward the door. He turned to look over his shoulder at Sherlock.
“Be right back, then, my darling, my love,” he said with a devilish wink.
As he turned back he thought, though he couldn’t be sure, that he caught a glimpse of the world’s only Consulting Detective sticking out his tongue.