John woke up to shrill, high pitched screaming. The scream was quickly followed by a "You stop that screaming right this instant, Hamish. Your daddy is sleeping" from Sherlock. Too late, John thought tiredly as he rolled over and sat up in bed. He rubbed a hand over his eyes and tiredly looked at the clock that was on his bedside table. 7:49AM; still, pretty good these days. Most mornings Hamish didn't sleep past 6AM so John considered it a miracle that he had been able to sleep this long. But he could tell by the screaming and arguing coming from the sitting room that it was going to be a long morning.

Hamish's whiny tone called out, "I don't feel well, father" followed by a high-pitched crying sound.

"Hamish, I've asked you to put your toys away five times now. Even if you don't feel well you still have to do what you're told" Sherlock said with tried patience. John smiled a little to himself. Hamish was the only person on earth who could defy and argue with Sherlock and live to tell about it.

Hamish didn't dignify Sherlock's remark with a response; instead he started crying. Sounds of things being thrown could be heard in John's room and his smile faded away. Hamish was usually such a well behaved child; he had had his share of tantrums when he was one and two years old, but now that he was five they were not that common; if he was this whiny, he obviously didn't feel well.

John got up, stepping around toys and books that littered Hamish's side of the room; John hadn't been too keen on the idea of having to share his room with a child when Hamish had first come to live them, especially since at the time he was an infant who didn't sleep through the tonight yet. But as 221B only had two bedrooms and Sherlock had refused to share his, John had gotten used to it. John winced as his bare foot connected with a Lego; well, it wasn't too bad most of the time.

When John emerged from his bedroom and into the sitting room, he saw Sherlock standing over Hamish who had thrown himself on the floor in a very uncharacteristic tantrum. He was rolling around and kicking his feet as the scowl on Sherlock's face grew deeper. "Look, now you've woken your daddy" Sherlock said with an annoyed tone.

Hamish's head popped up from the carpet as he heard John come in the room. He climbed off the floor and ran at John, his black curls bouncing. He threw himself at John and John scooped him up into his arms. Hamish threw his arms around John's neck in a death grip as he buried his face in John's neck. "Daddy, I don't feel well." He said softly as his grip grew tighter. "Father's being mean"

John rubbed Hamish's back comfortingly as he looked at Sherlock. His hair was rumpled and his pyjamas and dressing gown wrinkled. His face was tired and annoyed and it was obvious that he had already had enough this morning. "I just asked him to pick up his toys" Sherlock said tiredly.

John looked from Sherlock to Hamish and sighed. It was a too common occurrence that he got stuck in the middle of Sherlock and Hamish's arguments, both vying for him to pick a side and he always hated it. Sherlock's wrath was hard enough to deal with and Hamish was a five year old version of his father in most every way; get on either of their bad sides and it was not a pleasant day.

"Hamish, you need to do as father asked" John said softly. "If you don't feel well, then you can lay down after you've picked up your things." He patted the boy's back before placing him down on the ground. "Okay daddy" Hamish said in a resigned tone as he slowly began to pick up his toys. When he had gathered an armful, he walked to his room to deposit them and Sherlock huffed loudly as he threw himself in his chair. "Of course, he argues with me for 20 minutes but just does what you ask the first time" Sherlock said annoyed.

John plopped down in his chair across from Sherlock, a small smile tugging on his lips. "You two are so much alike " John said. "He really is exactly like you, you know"

Sherlock rolled his eyes as he grabbed the paper and held it up, hiding behind it. John smiled as he looked at him brooding behind the paper and at the small boy who was also brooding as he continued to pick up his toys; perfect matches.

It had been quite a surprise to everyone, Hamish's existence. It had been nearly four years ago when Sherlock and John had woken one morning to find a one year old Hamish laying on their couch, wrapped in blankets with a note beside him that simply read, Sherlock, please take care of our son. There had been no other explanation of where the child had come from and even Sherlock had denied that he could have a son. He had in fact shunned the child and refused to hold him for days. John saw something strange in Sherlock's eyes that had made him question the possibility and he had deceptively taken a cheek swab from Sherlock while he'd been sleeping. John was shocked when the lab had said that Sherlock's and Hamish's DNA had matched. Sherlock was not pleased at John's deceptiveness and he had refused to answer any of John's questions as to who Hamish's mother was. Even to this day, four years later, John still didn't know who Hamish's mother was.

It had been very difficult at first; Sherlock, upon finding that Hamish was his own flesh and blood, had taken his responsibility as father very seriously. John had only suggested adoption once and Sherlock had been insistent that his child would live with him and him only. But that didn't mean that Sherlock was particularly nurturing; especially in the early days it had been John who had taken on the more mothering role. He had fed him, rocked him to sleep during the night. Sherlock hadn't once changed a dirty nappy. But Sherlock did love Hamish, that much was certain. As the child had grown, Sherlock had been more involved in his life, particularly engaging him simple experiments and sharing his love of music with him. Hamish had learned to play the violin when he was four and it was one of the great joys of parenting when he got to sit back and listen to Sherlock and Hamish play the violin in tune together. Hamish was exceptionally smart like his father; before he even went to nursery school he was able to read.

Sherlock and John had had their own share of issues with the entrance of Hamish into their lives. Naturally, everywhere they went, two men raising a child made people assume that they were gay. It wasn't something new, as people had been assuming this about them since they had moved into 221B, but it was heightened when they had added Hamish to their lives. John had given up correcting people who assumed that he and Sherlock were "together". Whatever he and Sherlock had together, it worked and he wasn't going to question it too deeply.

After Hamish had picked up his toys he climbed up into John's lap, turning the telly to the science channel before sitting back against John's chest. John put his hand on Hamish's forehead, feeling for a temperature but he felt only slightly warm; no matter, it was obvious that he didn't feel well. He wasn't a clingy or particularly affectionate child so if he was hanging on to John something was up.

John and Hamish watched telly for another hour or so while Sherlock did an experiment at the kitchen table before Sherlock's phone rang. He spoke a short while before coming into the sitting rom. "That was Lestrade" he said, "Needs us on a case. Hamish, you'll have to go and stay with Mrs. Hudson for a while"

He said it softly, but Hamish was on the offense instantly. "No" he whined, sitting up and looking at Sherlock. "Stay here father, please…." He begged, reaching out his arms toward Sherlock.

"Hamish, we have to go to work. You'll be fine with Mrs. Hudson" Sherlock insisted, not picking up on Hamish's need to be held.

Hamish stood up on the arm of the chair, putting his arms around Sherlock, making his need for affection obvious. "Father, please stay with me, I don't feel well" he begged. It was rare when Hamish was this needy and it pulled at John's heart for his sake.

"I can't" Sherlock insisted, still not picking up on Hamish's cues. "I have to go to work. Stay here and be a big boy for father"

But Hamish was past the point of listening. He pulled at Sherlock's dressing gown as he began to cry. Sherlock looked at John with a puzzled expression, obviously out of his element. It was obvious that Sherlock didn't know how to diffuse this uncomfortable situation. "I'll stay with him" John offered. He pulled at Hamish, prying his small hands off Sherlock's dressing gown as he cradled the crying boy. "You go ahead Sherlock, I'll stay here with him"

Sherlock gave him a thankful expression as he disappeared into his bedroom to change his clothes. John put his arm under Hamish and his other arm around him, pulling him close like he hadn't held him since he was an infant. He pushed Hamish's curls out of his face as he began to calm himself down. When he had stopped crying, he used the sleeve of his outer space pyjamas to wipe his tears away and he looked up at John. "Thanks for staying with me daddy" he said in a tone that melted John's heart.

….

John didn't mind having to attend to someone that was ill; as a doctor, he wouldn't have gotten far in his profession if he had. But there was something different about it when it was your own child. Even though Hamish wasn't his by blood, he loved him as deeply as he would have had he been and he hated to see him in pain. Hamish's temperature had been steadily climbing all day, peeking midday at 38.8. He'd been freezing, shaking from the cold and John had wrapped him tightly in a blanket and holding him on his lap. Hoping Hamish might go to sleep and find some relief, John turned the lights off and closed the curtains in the flat. After John got up and switched the lights off he sat back down and Hamish curled up in John's lap, laying his head against John's chest, eyes trained lazily on the astronomy program on the telly. John has always found it amusing that Hamish seemed to lean toward astronomy as he favorite science since Sherlock had always found it to be rather unimportant. The fact that his interest in the subject had increased tremendously in the past few years was not lost on John.

When Hamish's eyes finally began to droop down and stay closed, John lifted him up and carried him to their room. He lay him gently down on the bed, covering him with his blanket as Hamish stirred a little. When John turned on his stars nightlight, Hamish began to whine.

"Daddy…..my head hurts…my stomach hurts…I feel funny" Hamish complained in a small voice that made him sound younger than he was.

Sympathy stirred in him; he sat down on the edge of the bed. "Just go to sleep sweetheart" John said softly, moving his hand in small circles on Hamish's back. "I'm sure if you get some much needed sleep, you'll feel much better."

"I want father" Hamish said in a small voice. He pulled his blankie out from under his pillow and clutched it. It was a blue, tattered, stained thing that used to be decorated with blue and red boats. Sherlock despised it; he thought Hamish was much too old for it even though he was only five and rarely still held it.

"I know you do" John said. "But you know he works late sometimes and when he's on a case it's hard to know when he's going to be home"

"You think he'll tell me about the case tomorrow?" Hamish asked. John smiled; Hamish always loved to hear about Sherlock's cases. It was difficult, sometimes for him to share them because of the nature of the case but Sherlock always made an effort to tell him what he could.

"I'm sure that he will" John said with a smile.

"Daddy, if Father's not working tomorrow, you think we can go to the park? The one with the pool?" Hamish asked.

"Sure, if you're feeling better tomorrow" John said. "Maybe you can even convince father to get in the pool this time" Hamish had been a big fan of the water ever since he was a toddler and John has taken him for swimming lessons. Really, he'd done it because he was a worrier and he wanted the boy to know how to swim but ever since then it was nearly impossible to keep him out of water when it was present. Sherlock, on the other hand detested pools and refused to get in even with Hamish. He would go on and on about the germs and idiotic people in the pool but John was sure his extreme modesty had a lot to do it with it as well.

Hamish gave John a smile, his first of the day. "I hope so" he said. He closed his eyes and after a few minutes of rubbing his back John could hear his breath become even and deep. John watched him sleep for a few minutes, his black curls falling over his forehead, his pale, perfect face peaceful; he looked so much like Sherlock. John was careful to get up slowly so that he didn't wake Hamish and closed the door softly behind him.

John spent the next couple of hours cleaning around the flat. He washed some well overdo dishes, cleared the kitchen table as much as he could without disturbing Sherlock's experiments and emptied the rubbish bins. He was just sitting down at his laptop to check his blog when he heard Hamish's voice calling out for him from the bedroom. John walked down the hallway and opened the bedroom door. He peered into the room to see Hamish sitting up in bed, whimpering. John came into the room, switching the lamp on beside Hamish's bed. He could see then that Hamish had vomit on the bed and down the front of his pyjamas shirt.

"Does your stomach hurt?" John asked, leaning down beside him.

"No" Hamish said, looking slightly confused. " I woke up and my head really hurt. My stomach felt queasy for a little bit and then I got sick. I feel much better now….but it's gross. Get it off of me" he held his hands in front of him, looking at the vomit with apparent disgust.

"It's okay, we'll get you cleaned up" John said.

"I still want to go to the pool tomorrow" Hamish said with some defiance and finality. It was the same tone Sherlock used when he demanded he was going to do something. "I really felt bad but now I feel okay. My stomach doesn't hurt at all."

John put his hand to Hamish's forehead and he felt cooler than earlier; might have just been a 24 hour bug. John hoped that it was. "Well, if you don't feel bad and your fever is gone tomorrow, we'll go to the pool" John tentatively promised "I don't want to go if you're feeling sick at all."

"I'm sure I'll be fine, daddy. After all, you said that maybe I just needed sleep." Hamish said with extreme positivity, nodding strongly. John smiled a little bit; it was sure a ringing claim for someone that was still covered in vomit.

"Yes, I did say that" John agreed. "Well, let's get you cleaned up and get some fluids into you."

He helped Hamish out of bed and walked with him to the bathroom, helping him out of his dirty clothes. He took a wet cloth and wiped him down before walking back to the bedroom and helping him into clean pyjamas. Hamish, reluctantly, drank a cup of water and was cleaning his teeth while John cleaned up his bed when there was the sound of footsteps on the stairs.

"Father!" Hamish said with excitement as dropped his toothbrush into the sink ran toward the sound of Sherlock coming up the stairs. John finished the sheets before walking into the sitting room. Sherlock and Hamish were sitting on the couch; Sherlock still had his coat on and Hamish was sitting next to him, cross legged and wide eyed. "Did you catch him? The criminal? Was it a hard case?" Hamish asked with excitement, putting his elbows on his knees and leaning his face into his hands.

"It was actually quite easy" Sherlock said with a mischievous grin. "The criminal was quite careless and left footprints behind. It was not difficult to determine his shoe size and, that his shoes were a very specific type, one that the victim's butler was known to wear. When we interviewed the man he refused to let us see his shoes. Of course, we obtained a warrant and were able to search the man's flat. We not only found the shoes but found traces of the victim's blood on them. No getting away from that one"

"You caught him in one day" Hamish said with excitement, his little fists balled up in exclamation. "He really was foolish wasn't he?" He bounced up and down on the couch and despite John's hesitation that he shouldn't be so excited about something so morbid, he was just happy that he seemed to be feeling better. John watched the adorable exchange from a distance; Sherlock was not a conventional parent, but he was the perfect father for Hamish.

"Yes, he really was. But then again, most criminals are" Sherlock said. "They get caught in their wrong doing and even become confident that they'll never get caught."

"And then you show them they're no good at all" Hamish said, raising his hands in excitement.

Sherlock smiled. "Exactly" he said, pride showing on his face. While Sherlock and Hamish butted heads a lot because they were so alike, it was obvious that Hamish was Sherlock's number one fan.

"Here, I took some photos you can see of the crime scene" Sherlock said, giving Hamish a gleeful grin as he fished his mobile from his pocket.

"Really!?" Hamish exclaimed, jumping on the couch with his knees.

That's when John felt the need to step in; while Hamish was born with morbid fascinations, John didn't want to actually encourage them too much. "Uh…do you think that's such a good idea?" John asked, walking into the room and sitting on the edge of the couch next to Sherlock. Sherlock turned and gave him a smile.

"Don't worry, Daddy" he emphasized the word the way he did when Sherlock thought he was worrying too much. "They don't break The Rules"

John had made up The Rules a few years ago when Hamish had already begun showing interest in Sherlock's work. It was natural that a child want to know everything about what their father (or in their case fathers) did for work but when said father solved crimes, you had to be careful. John had created rules about what Sherlock should show and tell Hamish. Among the rules was no picture of dead bodies, grotesque images of bodies or in-depth descriptions of crime.

John still held his breath as Sherlock showed Hamish the pictures on his phone. "Here's the footprint I used to make the deductions about the murder's shoe" Sherlock explained. "Here's his shoes…..see the bit of blood there?"

"Cool!" Hamish enthused. John resisted the temptation to say something. It was only a bit of blood after all…..

"Are you feeling better, Hamish?" Sherlock asked after a moment, handing Hamish his phone to keep, seeing he was still interested in the photos. "Did Daddy take good care of you today?"

"I feel okay now" Hamish declared matter of factly. "I felt really bad but then I threw up and now I'm better."

"You've been vomiting?" Sherlock asked with slight alarm.

"Just once" Hamish said, looking like he realized shouldn't have said anything. "But Daddy said I could still go to the pool tomorrow"

Sherlock looked over at John with a critical gaze. "You think going to the pool is wise if he's ill?" he asked, raising his eyebrow.

"Well," John said, quick to step in and diffuse the misunderstanding. "I said that if he's feeling alright and he doesn't have a fever we can go. I think it was just a 24 hour thing. Been going around the school."

Hamish looked at Sherlock with eager, wide eyes. "Can we, Father?" he asked.

Sherlock shot John a dirty look before turning to Hamish again. "We'll see how you're feeling in the morning, okay? If you're feeling good we can go"

"Yeah!" Hamish said in excitement, clapping his hands.

"But you should probably get some sleep, then" Sherlock said. "Come on, I'll go tuck you in"

"Okay" Hamish relented, looking tired but trying to not look tired. John watched Sherlock ad Hamish walked towards the bedroom. A few minutes later, Sherlock emerged from the bedroom, taking off his coat and jacket before sitting down in his chair across from John. "The pool, really, John?" Sherlock asked almost immediately, disgust on his face. "Why did you promise him the pool?"

John smiled at the obvious repulsion on Sherlock's face. "Because despite sharing your DNA, he loves the pool. He asked to go and I said it'd be fine if he was feeling okay"

Sherlock shook his head with a slight snicker. "He's got you wrapped around his little fingers, you know that?" he asked.

"Yeah looks whose talking" John said with a huff.

"I'm not the one that promised to take him to the awful pool" Sherlock said. "Do you have any idea the amount of bacteria found in pool water?"

John just smiled. "You know he's going to ask you to swim with him" he said off handily.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Doesn't he always?" he asked. "Doesn't mean I will"

"Come on, Sherlock" John prodded. "Ease up a little…..it'll mean so much to him."

Sherlock scowled. "Don't bother, John. I'm perfectly fine watching him from the side of the pool. You're the one that got him into this habit…..you can swim with him."

"I got him into this "habit" because I wanted him to know how to swim. I didn't want him to fall into a pool one day and drown" John said defensively.

"Ooh, ease off mummy" Sherlock said with a small snicker.

John chose to ignore the mummy comment. It was no secret that of the two of them, he was definitely the mothering one of the two. Someone had to do it, but he didn't want to even be close to being called such. "Excuse me for looking out for his well-being" John said calmly.

Sherlock looked at John calmly for a few moments. "How was he today? Was he difficult to deal with?" he asked.

John sighed. "He's just a boy and he just didn't feel well. Watched telly and slept most of the day. He did throw up but I think he'll be okay. He heals quickly and he's obviously already much improved from this morning."

There was silence for a long time before Sherlock said, "Thank you for staying with him"

Sherlock rarely said thank you for anything, and John was slightly surprised. "It's no big deal" John said.

"I know you would have rather been at the crime scene than at home taking care of domestics" Sherlock said, still not looking at John.

"I really don't mind it" John said. And for the most part he didn't. Sure, tracking down a killer would be more interesting than staying at home cleaning up vomit but he loved Hamish like he was his own and he had calmed down a lot since Hamish's arrival.

"I mind it" Sherlock said quietly. By the time that John looked up to ask him what he meant by that, Sherlock was disappearing out of the room and toward his room, leaving John confused.

Let me know what you think of our little family so far :) Let me know if you'd like to see more! Thanks for reading!