Disclaimer: I don't own the characters you recognise, and just borrowed them for some fun with Hamish.

"Hamish, hold onto Daddy and don't let go," ordered Doctor John Watson.

The three year old obediently clasped the overcoat of his father, the same man who was engrossed in his phone, as John nodded his satisfaction. He could trust his son to keep his partner out of trouble.

Leaving the two, he slipped out to the shops.

Ding Ding Ding

"Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen..."

The public announcement barely entered the consciousness of the world's only consulting detective before he registered the words "missing child".

Abruptly becoming aware of his surroundings he looked at the book shelves before him, before looking down to find Hamish holding his coat between his thumb and forefinger as he counted books under his breath.

"One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten..."

Sherlock sighed in relief. Not his kid missing then... this time.

Sweeping his son up into his arms, he mentally drew upon the building's floor plan and headed for the information point.

Grant Hawthorn, junior customer service agent on his first day of the job, was trying his best - and failing - to reassure the frantic parents before him that their child would be found. Fumbling, he was ill-prepared for when the imposing man approached him and placed the small child in his arms on the floor.

"Ah... Sir... Is this -"

He got no further for a high pitched screech was heard behind him. "That's not our son!"

"No you idiot woman. That one's mine." Hamish giggled from his position wrapped around his father's leg as he looked up. "Yours is in the south wing, second shop to the right from fire exit GE271 playing with Lego."

The mother's face went pale and then bright red. "How did you know that? Who are you? And what have you done with our son?" She shrieked hysterically as her husband sagged in relief.

"I'm Sherlock Holmes."

It took her several moments to process this. "You're the... You... But... How?"

"You're holding a backpack with "everything is awesome" emblazoned on it and whilst there are three places here that stock Lego, only one advertises this out front. It's also opposite the shop selling intimate apparel, where your husband was purchasing lingerie for his mistress. Your husband gnawing his lip isn't out of stress but out of guilt that he left your son there." Sherlock paused for effect. "South wing, second shop to the right from fire exit GE271," he repeated.

"But he can't be. I checked..."

The husband was interrupted immediately by his furious wide turning her wrath on him. "You left him alone?! What were you even..."

Sweeping up Hamish once again, Sherlock left the scene with a swish of his overcoat.

"Sherlock?"

He didn't get far before Hamish cried out "Papa!" as John approached with a duty free bag in hand.

"Nothing to worry about here John," he declared grandly. "We have a flight to catch."

As they waited for the gate to open for boarding, Sherlock turned to his husband. "Aren't you going to ask how I did it?"

John looked up from where Hamish was trying to upend his backpack. "Nope. We're on holidays."

He eyed him suspiciously. "How did you even know where to find me?"

"Where else would you have been?" replied his partner before turning back to encourage Hamish to wait for the plane.

Sherlock shrugged his shoulders as he returned his attention to his phone.

Where else indeed.

Finito.