So to begin with I need to explain the long wait. I've picked up my study and I have weekly essays to work on, so my updates will be a little slow in the future. Sorry about that.

Sherlock had made a hell of a row at the school concerning Mrs Greer's actions and what they'd led the other kids to do. The principal was stunned when she heard him and wide eyed and sweating she'd somehow tried to defend the teacher. That's when Sherlock had let go of his inhibitions. They'd left the principal in tears and with the threat that they would pull in higher authority if something wasn't done about mrs Greer. Who knew what other children would be beaten and bullied because of her?

As they returned home mrs Hudson met them at the door with a wailing bundle resting in her arms and Sherlock noticed that the old woman had been dealing with this problem since they left. With a small chuckle he reached out his arms and took the baby from her, pressed the small form to his chest and the child silenced immediately as she recognised the embrace.

"I thought I told you to be nice to granny." he cooed and entered the flat with a very tired John behind him.

"She's been at it since you left." Mrs Hudson sighed and opened the door to her flat, herded them in like cattle for a cup of tea that they just weren't allowed to refuse and by the kitchen table they found little Hamish. The boy had his head buried in one of Sherlock's old notebooks that'd been stored in one of his father's containers for many years and he read eagerly about some of the detective's early deductions.

"Alice's been a bad girl." their son said sternly as he saw them. "She's been screaming even if you told her to be a good girl." With a laugh John sat down heavily on the kitchen chair and started to unbutton his jacket.

"Yeah, but..." he snickered and followed his husband with tired eyes as he made his way to Hamish's side of the table. "She's a too little to understand what's good and not." The boy pulled a face and chewed at the inside of his cheek as Sherlock murmured to the little girl before returning to the note book.

"You were very silly as a child, dad." he said suddenly and tore his blue green eyes from the yellowed pages to give his father a stern glance. "Did you really think that uncle Mycroft was a spy?" Sherlock laughed and plopped down on the chair beside him.

"Who says he isn't?" he questioned and rocked little Alice who nuzzled his coat with a scrunch up face while making whining noises.

"Yes, he might be one now." Hamish said and turned the pages. "But not when he was fifteen."

"Oh what d'you know?" his father chuckled and watched as John rubbed fingers through his hair. A headache was bothering him, Sherlock could tell.

"Hamish? D'you know a teacher called Patric Salt?" John asked and shoved the bowl of caramels aside. The boy looked up from the page and blinked with big eyes; he's vessel had suddenly turned very compact as they picked up the subject about school again.

"Yes." he stammered and flicked his green eyes between his parents. "Or... not really. I know who he is, but..." He took a deep breath and stilled his eyes on Sherlock, like he feared that this might be a test of his own deductions. "He's the head teacher of the A-class. Maybe in his thirties. All his students loves him."

"And the kids in his class?" John continued and leaned over the table. "D'you know any of them?" The boy licked his lips and swallowed dryly.

"Well." he croaked. "Not really. Why?" He turned fully to Sherlock who eyed him quickly from tip to toe and then turned to Alice again who unhappily squirmed inside the blanket.

"Mr Salt would like to take you in to his class." John said with a glued on smile that Sherlock wished he could rip off his face. Neither he liked to torment their son by talking about school. He knew more than well how painful that could be to someone so young.

"I spoke to him." he explained while swaying back and forth on the chair to calm the wee girl. "I'm confident that he'll take very good care of you." Hamish seemed to relax a bit by that and as he let out a huge puff of air, which made John smile genuine, Sherlock knew that their son felt positive about this.

"Okay." he sighed without further questions; he believed his father well enough to know when he was telling the truth.

"Good." Sherlock smiled and pulled his head a little closer so he could press tender lips to his forehead. "And if it doesn't work out we'll turn elsewhere." The boy nodded again and took the opportunity to kiss his little sister that unhappily squirmed in Sherlock's arms and made bothered noises.

"Why's she so mad?" he asked and wrapped his hand around her kicking foot. "She's been like this a long time now." Sherlock sighed and caressed her soft curls.

"I don't know." he said and kissed her teeny fingers.

Alice didn't calm down during the rest of the day. Her cries went from screams to whines in long waves and how much they even tried she didn't stop. Sherlock paced the sitting room back and forth, let Alice's rest her head to his shoulder while she hiccuped by the long cries while he hummed in her ear.

Hamish had grown tired at it a long time ago and had buried his head in the pillow while clawing his ears. The sounds had gone from annoying to sufferable and he just wanted it to end.

"Make her stop!" he ordered and kicked to the cushions of the sofa.

"Go to your room if you can't take it." Sherlock said a little too harsh as he turned in his heal as he reached the window.

"Why do I have to go to my room when she's the naughty one!?" Hamish required angrily at sat up, giving his father the evil eye.

"Because she's smaller than you and I can't just tell her what to do." Sherlock explained and groaned as Alice started to cry louder again.

"You always tell me what to do!"

"Yes, but you understand me!" Sherlock bellowed and pulled and angry face.

"Hamish!" John called from the kitchen and turned up in the door. "C'mon, help me with dinner will you?"

"No!" the boy whined and jumped down on the floor, tears stinging in his eyes and a little shaken after his father raised his voice at him.

"Hamish." John tried again as he saw the first few tears roll down his cheeks. "C'mere." The boy ran across the room, into his arms and John lifted him up. "It's okay." He brought him into the kitchen and kissed his cheeks. "Dad's not mad at you. He's just tired. It's not fun for either of us to listen to Alice's screams."

"Then make her stop." the boy cried and clung to John's shoulders.

"I would if I could, handsome." he sighed and settled him down on the counter beside the stove. "But maybe she's in a bad mood today."

"Then cheer her up." Hamish ordered and wiped his tears with the back of his hand.

"Your dad is trying." John explained and flipped the chicken in the pan with a fork. "Just try to ignore it for now."
With a pout Hamish started to kick his feet to the cupboard beneath him, the pots and pans rattled inside and he listened to the noise. Maybe a sister wasn't the best thing to wish for after all.

"John?" Sherlock appeared in the door looking pained and with a hand resting on the little girl's head. "She feels warm." Chicken quickly forgotten John turned on his heal and hurried over to his worried husband. The girl were still screaming her head off in his arms and he scoped her up carefully to take her temperature.

"Hey, sweetie, what's the problem, huh?" he placed a hand on her forehead and pressed his lips into a thin smile. "She's a little warm but not enough to worry." He looked up at Sherlock and sighed as he nodded over to their son. "Take care of dinner and him for a while and I'll get this cranky lady ready for a nap." With a small chuckle Sherlock turned to the pots and pans and John retreated to their bedroom with the wailing baby.

He rocked her back and forth in his arms, kissed her forehead and buried his nose in her curls. "You are very much like your brother when we brought him home, you know. On his fifth day here he screamed his lungs out until your dad came back and took him." The girl coughed and took a new breath to scream again and John sighed. "Work with me here. We've fed you, changed you, and cuddled you. What's left to be done." He crawled up in bed with her, splayed her out on his chest and rubbed her back with warm hands. Carefully he unbuttoned his shirt and placed her on his bare skin, her cheek rested to his collarbone and suddenly she silenced. Her sobs turned into soft grunts and John tickled her lips with the tip of his finger which she quickly latched onto.

"There we go." John sang and pulled the blanket over them, leaned his head back on the raised pillow. "Better now?" She mewled around his finger and squirmed happily where she laid; truly jolly that someone had actually worked out what she needed after hours of screaming. "Good girl. There's no reason to be mad, is there?" Alice sighed and curled her fist around his finger; like she stopped him from taking it back from between her lips.

"So what's the verdict?" Sherlock's dark voice asked and he looked up at the man standing in the doorway. "Does she like you more than me."

"Of course she does." John joked. "Everyone does. Have you ever met anyone who's said, hey that Sherlock Holmes-bloke is a nice guy but do look out for his husband, that horrible doctor?" Sherlock chuckled and sat down on the edge of the bed, ran his fingers through Alice's curls and watched her fondly.

"If you only knew what people think about you." Sherlock teased and rubbed the little cheek.

"Just keep me in the dark about that, will you?" John smiled and listened to when Alice let out a loud sound of satisfaction. It was finally calm in their home and the parents decided to savour it. As Sherlock promised he'd put the food to test on the counter top, he crawled down beside John and snuggled close.

"The day will come when I won't be able to contain the urge to eat her." John murmured happily and rubbed her little cheek.

"Oh, shut up." Sherlock grinned and kissed her little foot. "You would never do such a thing."

"Dad?" Sherlock turned to the door and saw his son standing there scratching his head. "Is she sleeping?"

"Yes." he whispered and waved him over. "Completely knocked out." That was all the boy needed to sneak over to the bed, he climbed up and crawled up on Sherlock's chest.

"I like her better like this." he whispered and placed his heavy head to Sherlock's shoulder. "Why does she have to scream so much?"

"Shut up, handsome. You screamed even more." Sherlock chuckled and rubbed his back.

"I did?"

"You were more terrible than a burglar alarm." John said with a small laugh which made Alice squirm on his bare chest. "Sorry, sorry." He altered her position and once again she sighed in joy as she was comfortable again.
"Daddy?" he asked and frowned. "When will she talk? Like a proper human, I mean."

"In a year or more." he answered.

"If she's not like I was." Hamish frowned with a small ounce of worry lingering in his voice, a wrinkle settled between his eyebrows that made John's insides turn.

"Hamish." Sherlock sighed and hugged him a little tighter, rubbed his back firmly. "There was nothing wrong with that. If she doesn't speak until she's four she'll still be intelligent and full of life."

"Yeah.. but." Hamish mumbled and scratched his head again, the wrinkle deepening as he pressed his cheeks to Sherlock's chest. "Starting to talk after all that was..." His daddy looked at him with worried eyes and saw when the first tears started to cling to his lashes.

"Handsome?" he murmured and reached out for his hand. "It's okay. Hey, listen to me." Hamish sniffled and wiped the tears rolling down his cheeks. "What's wrong?"

"I just wish I could talk to the other kids in my class." he cried and rubbed his eye to stop the tears from coming. "I hate it." Sherlock buried his nose in his hair and sighed loudly, pressed feathery kisses to his head and gave a small hum that vibrated in his chest.

"I know, handsome. But that's something we're working on, remember?" The boy hiccuped but gave them a small nod, but not yet settled.

"It's gonna be okay, love." John promised. "Mr Salt will be very kind and won't make you do anything that makes you uncomfortable. He'll make sure that no one makes fun of you. I promise." Hamish wiped his tears and sniffled miserably, looked sharply at his father who played with his hair.

"Can I have pudding for dinner?" he asked suddenly and John couldn't help his loud laugh that made Alice twitch on his chest; thankfully enough she didn't wake up.

"No, handsome, you can't." he grinned. "But maybe for desert if you help dad set the table."

"Dad." Hamish croaked and looked up at Sherlock with a face swollen from his tears. "I wanna set the table." The detective smiled, but John could read the sadness behind it. Sherlock took his time to sit up in the bed and Hamish pulled himself close to his neck to bury his face there.

"Well, let's go then." he whispered and waltz slowly out of the bedroom. "Maybe Boe would like to help as well." John heard him mumble as they reached the kitchen. "He can't always be the centrepiece without working for it in my opinion."

Alice settled without a noise the in the cradle and John tucked the thin blanket around her before sneaking away. He closed the door carefully behind him and tiptoed into the kitchen were Sherlock and Hamish had already placed themselves around the small table. Hamish was nipping at his carrot while Sherlock watched him with a tiny smile; fork picking in the white rice drowned in gravy. Lastly, and expected, the cat was in fact sitting on the table; tail wiping back and forth across the edge of the table and his yellow eyes concentrated on Sherlock who always was the one to provide him with some pieces of meat.

"Hello." the detective greeted with a tired voice as John sat down in front of him. "So she..."

"Yeah." John sighed and looked down at his plate where his husband neatly had served him his dinner.
"Maybe she doesn't like your new cologne, dad." Hamish said suddenly and reached for his glass of milk. "You said that different perfumes do stuff to peoples heads sometimes. Like that lady perfume that granny sometimes wears is to deduce."

"Seduce." Sherlock corrected but found himself frowning. He tilted his head a fraction to the side and gave the boy look of surprise. "Why would you think that?"

"Because she started to cry when granny put that blanket over her that was in the clean hamper this morning. You took it right after you shaved and without washing your hands so it smelled very much of your new cologne. She cried until daddy took her. Clushion, she doesn't like it."

"Conclusion." Sherlock corrected but felt a little beaten by his son's words. Even John seemed amazed by it and he raised his eyebrows at the boy and chuckled.

"Well, that's a shame." he smiled and turned to Sherlock. "I liked it on you."

"I know you did." Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes until they landed on Boe that blinked at him as an invitation to be petted. "Too bad, they discontinued my last one." Hamish giggled and chewed on his piece of chicken.

"Dad needs a shower." he smiled and John laughed loudly before giving his husband a nudge under the table, Sherlock responded with a scowl.

"I imagine I do." he said and scratched Boe behind the ear while getting up. "John, throw the bottle out."

"Where are you going." John asked and saw how Sherlock reached for his coat.

"I need to find and aftershave that satisfies both you and our daughter." he said and pocketed his wallet and keys. "I'll be back in an hour."

"I wanna come!" Hamish shouted and slid off his chair. "I need to like it too!" Sherlock looked up from his cellphone.

"Why?"

"Because we're gonna cuddle." Hamish said like his father was utterly stupid and the detective felt, once again, beaten.

"Oh yes, of course." he smiled and leaned down to pick him up when John looked at them both with crossed arms and pursed lips. The room fell silent and Hamish turned to his daddy to see what had made dad so stiff.

"Aren't you two forgetting something?" John asked and swatted Boe away before he put his teeth into Sherlock untouched chicken. "You're not going anywhere before you've finished your meals." Hamish gasped.

"But this is important!" he said with shock. "Alice and dad might never be friends again."

"If dad and you don't eat I'll make sure to ruin this experiment for you both." John threatened and pushed Boe away as he made a new attempt to get the chicken. Not a word came from the two boys standing in the doorway between the kitchen and sitting room; they looked reluctantly on the table before Sherlock sighed and stepped over the floor to set them both down.

"There we go." John smiled and pushed Sherlock's plate a little closer. "C'mon now, be two big boys and finnish your meals."

"I'm not a child, John." Sherlock growled and made the boys sit comfortably on his lap before reaching for his plate as well.

"I believe that when I see it." John joked and smiled until it rubbed off on them both. "And you, Hamish, make sure to feed Boe before dinner so he won't bed for it while we eat."

"Okay, daddy." Hamish sighed and took a fork full of rice. His daddy might be hard on them sometimes but he'd learned that it was for his own good. If he and dad had left now dad would probably be annoyed if he got hungry while they did the experiment. And seeing dad eat as well was always a good thing. It wasn't often he did that.

"Did you like the chicken, dad?" he asked as he saw him take a mouthful.

"Yes." he said simply; clearly in a bigger mood of starting up the new project that eating and John laughed where he sat.

"It's for the best, love." he smiled. "If Alice's gonna be cranky all evening from your experiment I want her to be the only one; not all of you." Sherlock could agree to that.

So here we are for now. I'll do my best to update as much as I can. I haven't given up on my fics.