This is just a short little fic I thought about a while ago. It's my first fic with Hamish in it (I actually fucking love parentlock). I haven't updated anything in a while so hopefully this will be the beginning of my return to fanfiction.

Have a read!

"Father, what happens to people when they die?"

"They are taken to a special room and burned," the Consulting Detective (and now apparently Consulting Father) said without looking up from his laptop.

"Sherlock," came a stern voice from behind the newspaper.

Hamish Holmes-Watson looked at both of his parents. Daddy was a doctor so he must know a lot about people's bodies. But Father worked with dead people all the time.

Father sighed and turned to him. "Hamish, when people die, they cease to exist. That's it."

Hamish tilted his head. "So when I die…that's it?"

"Yes, exactly," Sherlock nodded in approval and went back to typing.

John sighed and stood, taking the half full, but soggy bowl of cereal from in front of his son. "Don't worry about dying Hamish. You have plenty of time left to live. And that's what counts."

Hamish pouted. "Father says time is relative. So what if my life seems like a long time to you but is really a short time to me?"

John could argue with many things: Sherlock, his job, chip and pin machines, an empty bottle of jam and even the skull on the mantelpiece once. But the laws of physics are where he drew the line. "Sherlock, your son asked a question."

Sherlock clicked his tongue and shut the laptop. He turned to Hamish who looked at him with matching eyes. "So suddenly you're my son now, is that correct?"

"I thought I was always your son," Hamish frowned.

Sherlock shook his head and smiled. "Hamish, relativity of time only really applies when one is travelling at or near the speed of light. At all other instances, it's pretty much the same. There can only be a small difference. So your life will be as long as it is. Period."

Hamish nods and is quiet for around 12 seconds. Then, "Father, I'm bored."

Sherlock snorts. "The feeling is mutual."

John returns from the kitchen and rubs his forehead. "What?"

"My son and I are bored. As my husband and father of my child, I order you to entertain us," Sherlock informed him.

John gave them a blank stare, then sighed and suggested, "How about a movie?"

"I would much prefer a gruesome murder," Sherlock said.

Hamish thought for a second and swung his legs. "I want to go to the park."

"That settles it then. John, go kill someone at the park and Hamish and I will meet you there in 20 minutes," Sherlock stands and walks to their room to get ready.

Hamish looks up at his other father with wide eyes. "Daddy, how can you manage to kill someone in 20 minutes?"

Without thinking, John responded. "Oh, that's more than enough time," he said with a glare in the direction of the bedroom.

Hamish jumped out of his seat and regarded his Daddy once more. "Interesting," he commented and started up stairs to his room.

John realized his mistake and panicked. "Don't get any ideas!" he yelled at Hamish.

"Stop stunting his growth!" Sherlock exclaimed from the bedroom.

John covered his face with a large tan hand and exhaled loudly through his nose. He may have looked even more miserable if it weren't for the fact that he secretly loved every second of this bedlam.

Lemme know what you think please!