30 Years Can Go By (Sequel to 60 Ways-ParentLock-BBC Sherlock)

Chapter Two

Heyo!

Not very much to say except thank you for 100 fans!! It's very incredible to me! Thanks so much, because I obviously couldn't have done it without you!

Vomment, fan, and tell others!

Enjoy!

-BB

•••••••••••••

Chapter 2

"John, Hamish's temperature is nearly 39 degrees!" I yelled worriedly across the flat. I pressed my head to Hamish's forehead. He was burning up, but he was shivering at the same time.(A/N- this is in Celsius. For my fellow Americans, the temp is about 101-102 degrees Fahrenheit).

"Daddy..." I heard him say softly. Hamish was 2 and a half years old now and he had learned to talk. I was Daddy and John was Papa.

I held him close to my chest, bouncing him lightly so he would calm down, and ran my hand through his curly hair. He was sweating quite a bit.

"It will all be okay, Hamish, Papa and I will take care of you," I assured our son.

John rushed into the room and pressed a wet towel into my hand.

"What do I do with this?" I asked. The addition of a child to our life was something that I was getting used to, but it was still the only thing that left me clueless.

"Put it on his forehead to cool him down," John instructed. I did as he said and observed as Hamish made a face of relief.

"He's really sick, John," I said, recognizing the tone of my voice as worried.

"I know, but he'll be fine," John assured me, patting my back.

Hamish had acquired colds and viruses in the past two years, but he had never had something like this. I was worried that I didn't know how to handle his ailments.

I saw John studying my face, "Sherlock, we're doing everything that we can. Hamish will get better soon, we just need to take care of him."

I nodded to show that I had listened.

"The poor little guy looks tired, why don't you put him to bed?" John suggested.

"Alright."

I carried him into his room and gently put him down into his crib. He was getting big and would only fit in the crib for another year at the most.

Hamish couldn't fall asleep. Then I remembered that singing worked quite well with him. I hadn't sung in a while, and it wasn't something that I enjoyed very much, but if it would make Hamish sleep well, I would sing.

I sang him his lullaby a few times and then leaned over to check if he was still awake.

Fast asleep.

I heard John at the door and I turned to look at him, giving a small smile.

"Are you coming to bed?" He asked me.

I thought for a moment before replying. "No."

"No?"

"I'm going to stay and make sure Hamish is okay."

"Sherlock, we're just across the hall. We'll hear if something's wrong," John tried reasoning.

"I know. But Hamish will be safer if I stay here."

John smiled and walked over, sitting next to me.

"Sherlock you really love Hamish, don't you?" John asked.

"He's my son, of course I do," I said. It was obvious.

"No but it's more than that. When you're taking care of Hamish you become a different person and you know that he's becoming more and more like you," John told me.

"Maybe that's not such a good thing..."

"What, you don't want our son to be a brilliant mastermind?" John laughed, but I was serious.

"No, I don't want him to be a psychotic sociopath," I said, blank-faced.

"Sherlock, you're not a psycho," John rested him hand on my knee. "And while I won't say that I understand you all of the time, which would be a lie, I love you way too much. Plus, Hamish won't get everything from you. I'll teach him some social skills."

I smiled. John might think he doesn't know how I work, but he always says the exact right things.

"I'll see you in the morning," John said, leaning in and kissing me, before leaving.

I rested my head on the crib and looked at Hamish through the bars. He may have been sick, but he still looked peaceful.

John was right. I did feel like a different person when I took care of Hamish. He made me feel more normal, and while I normally would have despised that, he made it okay.

Taking care of him calmed me down.

It made me feel like I was doing something right for once.

'I'm a good father' I thought to myself as I drifted off to sleep.

***

In the morning, Hamish was feeling better and he looked it too. He was toddling around the flat living room like the energetic kid he was.

John was out at work, so I was watching Hamish and he wanted to play with me.

He brought me a Jolly Rodger flag that he had found. I hadn't even known that there was one in the flat.

He handed me the flag and Hamish watched as I waved the skull and crossbones from right to left.

"Daddy's a pirate!" He giggled and it made me smile, remembering how when I was young, I had wanted to be a pirate. That was something I had never told John, but I suspected Mycroft had told him.

Hamish hadn't met his uncle yet, and it was better that way. Mycroft would corrupt him, I was sure of it.

"You like pirates, Hamish?" I smiled.

He giggled and nodded. "Yes, Daddy, but I they aren't very nice."

"No, they steal things and kill people, but that's good for Daddy's business," I said. It was somewhat of a joke, as I had never dealed with any pirates, but Hamish took me seriously, as all children do.

"What is your job?" Hamish asked, sounding scared and curious simultaneously.

"I help the police solve crimes and Papa helps me," I explained in the simplest manner.

"You catch all of the bad guys! You're a hero!" My son exclaimed.

"No, I'm not a hero, Hamish, but I'll always protect you," I promised him.

It seemed that I had confused him. "Well, Daddy, you're a hero to me," he finally concluded.

I hugged him lightly and kissed the top of his head.