SPOV

The task of keeping a grip on Hamish while waiting for John in Heathrow would have been monumental on it's own, but was made all the more difficult by having to balance Benedict and his baby bag as well. Deciding that taking the pram was more trouble than it was worth was turning out to be a very poor decision indeed.

"How much longer, Papa?" Hamish asked.

"His flight just landed, Hamish. We just have to wait a bit longer," I told him, gripping his hand a bit more firmly.

I was highly envious of Benedict at the moment; as many times as Hamish and I had said it, he really had no idea that John was coming home, that he would finally meet his Daddy and so could avoid the feeling of anticipation that was quickly becoming painful the longer it took John to appear. My skin was itching at the very through that soon I would finally, finally have John's hands touching me and I could fill my lungs with his wonderful scent again after so many long months.

Hamish had been vibrating with excitement for days. He had talked about nothing else but the adventure to the Natural History Museum that John would be taking him on, and it had become increasingly likely that he would come back downstairs sometimes a few hours after I had put him to bed with the explanation that he was too excited to go to sleep.

Hamish broke me out of my thoughts suddenly with a shout as he finally succeeded in yanking his hand out of mine.

"Daddy!" He ran off into the crowd of people milling about the baggage claim.

"Hamish! Get back here!" I shouted after him, breaking into a jog to try and keep him in my sight. As soon as I saw the person Hamish was running towards, however, I stopped short.

"Daddy!" Hamish shouted again, running straight into John's arms. John laughed and lifted Hamish into his arms, spinning him through the air before hugging him close to his chest.

"Hamish! Oh, Hamish. I've missed you so much! Look at you! You've gotten so big!" John exclaimed, shifting Hamish to his hip.

"I missed you, too, Daddy!" Hamish said, wrapping his arms around John's neck. John laughed again and kissed Hamish's forehead.

"Where's your Papa, Hai?" John asked cupping his cheek in one hand.

"There he is, Daddy," Hamish said, pointing at me. John finally looked up and saw me and we quickly covered the space between us, John wrapping his free arm around me and pulling me in for a kiss as soon as we reached each other. I sighed happily into his mouth, already feeling better than I have in months with just the one kiss.

When we broke apart I dripped my head to his shoulder, greedily sucking in deep breaths of his warm scent.

"God, I missed you," John said, brushing his lips over my hair.

"I missed you, too, John," I murmured into his neck. We scented each other, breathing deeply and taking in each other's smell until Benedict gave and indignant squawk because nobody was paying attention to him and he was being ever so slightly squashed in between John and me. We parted slightly and John set Hamish on the floor, his attention all on Benedict now.

"Oh, look at you! So big," John said, touching Benedict's head gently.

"Take him, John," I said gently. He didn't need to be told twice and he lifted Benedict from my arms.

"Hi there, little one. Benedict. I'm your Daddy," he said, his eyes going misty. "I'm so happy to finally meet you, Benny."

Benedict looked up at him and smiled, reaching for his face. John smiled back and lifted Benedict up to his face to kiss his head and nuzzled his hair to begin to memorize his scent. When he lifted his head he had tear tracks down his cheeks and the smile he kept special for our children and me.

"What do you think of Benny, Daddy?" Hamish asked, clinging to John's leg.

"I think he's wonderful, Hai," John said, running one hand through Hamish's hair. "Let's go home, huh? I think I'm long over due for a cuddle on the couch my family."

"Indeed. It has been far, far too long," I said, wrapping an arm around John's waist. We collected John's duffel bag with a bit of pointless, half-hearted arguing from John about me wanting to carry his bag for him and reluctantly trying to hand Benedict back to me which ended with me hoisting John's bag over my shoulder and Benedict still lying contently in John's arms.

"I still think I should be carrying my own bag, love," John said as we walked out of the airport to catch a cab back to Baker Street.

"Nonsense, John. You need to bond with Benedict and I'm perfectly capable of carrying a bag a few meters to a taxi," I told him.

"I know, I know. Just my instincts over-working themselves after being away so long," he sighed, shifting his grip on Benedict to pull me in for a peck on the lips.

The taxi ride home was full of Hamish's chattering, John's warm voice, and Benedict's baby sounds. I sat with my head on John's shoulder and sighed, letting the tension I had been carrying since John got that awful letter in the post melt away.

When we got home John did have to give Benedict back to me, if only because Mrs. Hudson wrapped him up in a teary-eyed hug as soon as we stepped in the door.

"John, dear, I'm so glad you're home safe!" she exclaimed. "It hasn't been the same since you've been away. Much to quiet around here."

"I have a hard time believing that's true. You've had Sherlock and two small children running around the place, it can't have been too quiet," John said affectionately.

"It was the wrong type of noise, love. Not happy enough," Mrs. Hudson said, patting his arm as she drew away, promising she would be up a bit later for a chat after John had had time to settle back in and bond a bit more with Benedict.

We spent the rest of the afternoon together. Hamish had glued himself to John, and John had glued himself to Benedict. I passed in and out of the living room all afternoon sometimes working on an experiment, sometimes sitting with them on the couch.

We went to Angelo's for dinner and John talked with Angelo for a bit, laughing and joking and showing Benedict off happily all through dinner. When we got home we cuddled until it was time to put Hamish and Benedict to bed.

"I think it's time for little geniuses to go to bed," John said, ruffling Hamish's hair and standing up.

"I don't want to go to bed. I want to stay up with you and Papa," Hamish said with a yawn.

"I don't think so. Come on, let's go get ready to sleep," I said, offering him my hand.

"No! I want Daddy to do it!" he protested, clinging to John's side.

"Alright, alright," I said, holding my hands up in surrender. "I'll just take Benedict, then."

John reluctantly handed Benedict to me before turning and scooping Hamish up and making him laugh as he carried him up the stairs to get ready for bed. I smiled down at Benedict and went though his own bedtime routine with him before I headed up the stairs as well.

Once Hamish and Benedict were asleep, John lingered for a bit in the doorway of their room, watching them sleep. I stepped back up the stairs and wrapped my arms around his waist, resting my head easily on his shoulder, as I was one step behind him on the stairs.

"I'm so glad you're home," I whispered, kissing his neck.

"I am, too," John said, twining our fingers together.

"I seem to remember a certain army doctor promising to spend all night with me when he got home. Come to bed?" I asked, trailing kisses up to his ear and back down his neck.

"I did say that didn't I? Who am I to deny you, then?" he answered, turning his head to press our lips together.

He allowed me to lead him down the stairs to our bedroom where I pulled him down on top of me in bed, kissing him with every bit of passion that had been building up in me since he left.