Author's note: Time for another one of my Sherlock/Sally stories, because I can't get enough.

I don't own anything, please review.

Sometimes Sally Holmes doubts her sanity.

"Sometimes" being most of the time, especially when she simply moves a body part aside to take something out of the fridge, or when she's trying to get her husband to get some rest because he hasn't slept in days.

If this is crazy, she doesn't mind that she is. She somehow became part of a wonderful strange family and now her and Sherlock have a son.

It's been three months since Hamish was born, and they couldn't be happier. After Sherlock tried to be a normal father for a few days and she had to convince him to be himself, he grew just as comfortable around their son as she had hoped he would.

Sherlock dotes on Hamish, although people like Anderson keep hinting that he can't. She learned long ago to ignore all the comments about her friend, later her boyfriend, now her husband being a psychopath, but they still sting, and she knows, although he never says anything, that he hears each one of them.

When she told her colleagues she was pregnant – colleagues who didn't already know – most of them seemed to think it was about time. Plus, ever since his return, few had dared to talk bad about Sherlock Holmes.

She thanked those who simply wished her well because it was the right thing to do and was genuinely happy when certain colleagues, like DI Gregson, made it clear that they were actually glad for her. While she didn't care about the suspicious stares, she was still relieved that not everyone considered her made for having a child with Sherlock Holmes.

Especially since Sherlock is the best father she could wish for Hamish.

True, he hasn't changed much, and she wouldn't want him to; she can tell he's already wondering when it will be appropriate to teach Hamish how to mix chemicals, and he is adamant that their son is "developing much faster than average children". While she suspects his opinion his based on parental pride rather than observation, she has to admit that Hamish is a curious child, always looking at everyone with bright eyes, and it would be a miracle if Sherlock Holmes' son didn't turn out to be highly intelligent anyway.

Sherlock doesn't push him, though; he is content with making sure Hamish is happy and sleeps and eats enough (she still has to point out the irony of this to her husband), playing with him, bathing him. He even sanitizes the kitchen after conducting his experiments. That is not to say that Hamish never sees a body part or chemical, though; now and then she comes home to find him lying in his moveable crib in the kitchen, watching his father with bright eyes as he looks through a microscope.

Sally has the feelings that the chemistry lessons will start as soon as Hamish can walk and talk.

Maybe she should be worried that the thought doesn't bother her, but she isn't. At least Hamish will learn to handle such things responsibly – a skill his father only acquired (and then only to a certain degree) after he had met John.

He also insists on bringing Hamish and Thomas together as often as possible – or, rather, since they aren't old enough to play with each other yet, have them lying together in the same crib when their parents meet or someone else, mostly Mrs. Hudson, looks after them – because he "wants Hamish to develop social skills as early as possible". Sally knows he wants his and John's sons to be best friends like their fathers are, and she suspects that he doesn't want Hamish to have the same lonely childhood he had, so she says nothing. She believes he is aware she knows, though. There are things in their relationship they don't have to talk about; it's just how it works.

Mrs. Hudson is delighted that her two boys have children of their own (she never says anything to indicate she feels like a proud grandmother, but Sally and Sherlock as well as John and Mary have already decided they are not going to raise their children to call her "Mrs. Hudson"; she has always behaved like a mother to the consulting detective and his blogger) and watches them whenever they ask her, albeit insisting every time that she is "a landlady, not a babysitter".

Greg and Molly spend even more time at 221B than before Sally and Mary got pregnant; Georgina, their three-year-old daughter, is smitten with the boys and Greg already told their fathers mockingly that "they should better keep an eye on them before he had to do something he might regret later". John laughed and Sherlock just looked confused in that utterly adorable (not that she would ever tell him so) way of his.

She isn't surprised at any of her friend's reactions to their son. She isn't surprised that Sherlock is a good father. She has to admit she was a little surprised, however, at least at first, at Mycroft's behaviour towards his nephew.

While she likes the elder Holmes, knows he cares about his brother and John as well as Greg and quite possibly for her too, and his relationship with Anthea has made him a little bit more open than he used to be, she didn't expect him to be there when she woke up after her C-section and held her son for the first time.

For a few minutes, she, Sherlock and Hamish were the only ones in the room, getting used to being a family, and she was as much awed by the life they had created as by the intense gaze of her husband as he stared at them.

Then, John (who had become a father a week ago) and Greg came in, demanding to see their son. She will never forget the look on John's face when he asked what they were going to call him and Sherlock answered matter-of-factly "Hamish".

While he was still holding his godson and Greg was patiently waiting his turn, the door opened and Mycroft strolled in.

She still can't say what she had expected, but it certainly wasn't Mycroft smiling at the baby and saying, "He looks just like you".

Sherlock snorted. "That's not true. He's got Sally's chin".

Sally quickly blinked away a few tears and ignored John's smile.

Greg graciously allowed Mycroft to take Hamish into his arms first, and she had never seen the British Government look so human before. He studied their little boy, obviously keen to reassure himself that everything had gone well, before smiling at Hamish, who gurgled happily and reached out to his uncle.

Ever since then, Mycroft has visited them at least once a week, sometimes with, sometimes without Anthea. Sherlock still insults him, of course, but it's obvious that he's happy that his brother takes such an interest in his nephew.

Her sister is over the moon and just as enthusiastic as Mycroft, calling constantly and showing up randomly whenever she can. Sally is still on maternity leave and Sherlock is home most of the time – well, most of the time when Judy comes by, anyway, he has to work, naturally, and Greg calls him in on cases as often as he can – and her husband is quite fond of her sister in his own way, so she always beams when Judy visits and lets her hold Hamish, even if her son was just trying to sleep and is a little bit grumpy.

She is happy about the reaction of her friends and family.

Just like she is happy that Sherlock is just as good a father as she foresaw he would be.

Sometimes she still would like to strangle him, like in any relationship, although not for the reasons people usually kill their partners – and she should know.

Mrs. Hudson took her out today to do some shopping; for the first time since Hamish was born, she would leave him and Sherlock alone. She wasn't worried her husband would do something wrong, but she still felt reluctant to leave her child, which Mrs. Hudson commented with a gentle "I know, dear" and a knowing smile.

When they came home, Sherlock and Hamish weren't there. John wasn't home either, and Mary was visiting some distant relatives with Thomas.

Sally told herself not to freak out and called her husband. He didn't pick up.

It was Mrs. Hudson who suggested she call Greg.

The DI sounded slightly apologetic, but only slightly.

"Yes, they are with me. At Fernchurch Street 214. There has been a – "

She didn't leave him time to explain, simply hung up and caught the next cab she could find.

So here she is, ignoring the greeting of the Constable who's guarding the crime scene. She quickly ducks under the tape and makes her way into the house and into the room where the body lies.

Hamish is lying contently in Greg's arms, smiling at the DI; Sherlock and John are kneeling over the body and Anderson is standing in a corner, grinning triumphantly, apparently thinking that he was right all along and the "psychopath" simply produced another "psychopath".

Sally feels her anger leave her. She was more worried than angry anyway, and it's not like she didn't expect this to happen.

Although she would have liked to be forewarned. Or not to have it happen quite so soon.

She clears her throat. Greg raises his head and his eyes widen when he sees her, then he smiles at her son.

"Look, Mum's here".

Sherlock immediately stands up and turns around, and even if she were still angry, she couldn't be anymore, not when there's this uncertainty in her eyes that tells her he thought she would disapprove, would chastise him for bringing his son to work, would disapprove Hamish being a part of what makes Sherlock Holmes the man he is.

She smiles at him and it almost looks like he breathes a sigh of relief; John shoots him a look that she decides not to interpret as "I told you so", Greg simply continues holding Hamish and Anderson's smile drops.

She takes her son into her arms and smiles at her husband.

"You could have called. Or sent me a text."

"I – " Sherlock starts and clears his throat. "I thought we would return before you".

It's clear that he didn't think she'd approve. She shouldn't, common sense tells her that she shouldn't. But she loves this man, and she loves their son, and Hamish looks quite content, so she just shakes her head, "Next time, just tell me, alright?"

"Yes" he answers, slightly taken aback, and she looks at their son.

"Did you have fun with Dad and your uncles?"

Hamish gurgles, and she laughs; a moment later Sherlock is at her side and kisses her, even though he normally doesn't like public displays of affection, and she lets him because this is them, and their baby son is at a crime scene and they are kissing a few feet away from a body.

Hamish makes a sound that sounds suspiciously like a laugh, and Sherlock scrutinizes him.

"He never did that before."

"It fits, doesn't it?"

Then they – meaning her and Sherlock and Hamish and John and Greg – all laugh while Anderson quickly escapes the room. Realizing that Hamish is getting restless, she asks, "Are you done?"

"Greg, it was the lodger" Sherlock announces, "Come on, John".

He strolls off to find a cab, Greg shaking his head good-naturedly before excusing himself to make a few calls; Sally and John follow her husband, Hamish safely tucked into her arms.

"He insisted he needed me" the doctor says on the way, "I would have – "

"I know you would" she says, "but it doesn't matter."

It really doesn't. Hamish is growing up surrounded by people who love him, so who cares if his father has an extraordinary job, or if his uncle holds him at crime scenes while his godfather examines a body.

If there is anything she has learned, it's that sometimes, crazy is better than normal.

Author's note: I had the idea and figured why not. I just wanted to write something light-hearted.

I hope you liked it, please review.