Sherlock: The Next Generation

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

“I don’t want to go to the day care!” Hamish complained loud enough for the whole world to hear. “Why should I?! Can’t we just stay at home? I’ll be good, I promise! And Mrs Hudson is just downstairs. Please, Papa!”

“No, sorry Hamish but the decision is final,” John frowned down at his son. His awfully innocent, begging eyes were not going to affect him. The skinny boy had to socialise with others his age. As did his twin. “You are only four so you can’t stay here alone.”

“But Martin will be here as well!” Hamish whined.

“Martin is also four.”

“Then can we at least come with you and Daddy?” Hamish pleadingly glanced at Sherlock who promptly pretended to be engrossed in typing something up on his laptop. He too knew that their sons needed to socialise. Maybe they would turn out to have a little more John in them when it came to making friends. Sherlock could only hope so.

“No, I’m sorry son,” John bent down to ruffle his hair. “We’re going to visit Molly and then pick up your new baby sister.”

“I want to come! I want to see Aunt Molly!” Hamish pouted, arms folded crossly.

“We’ll arrange for her to come visit,” John sighed. The last thing he wanted was for his son to become as engrossed with dead bodies as his partner was. “Now, we need to go or we’ll be late. Come on, get your coat on. You too, Martin.”

Martin had been sitting quietly on the sofa, curled up with his sketchbook sitting on his lap. A pencil was held in his hand and his deep blue eyes were narrowed on the picture before him. It was no world class work of art but it was far beyond the level of most his age. That being drawing stick figures. No, Martin was already beginning to pay attention to proper proportions. He was currently going through a cartoon stage and adored attempting to copy art from comic books. As his name was called he shut his sketchbook and put it in the little backpack he was taking. He had made sure to pack all his pens and pencils so that he could draw when at the day care.

 The silent boy didn’t argue about going there. He saw no point. They would have to interact with other children their age sooner or later. Not that he really wanted to. He would rather just draw all day. Or play the violin... To which his brother always made a face. But Daddy loved it and taught him whenever he got a spare moment. Truthfully Martin had only been playing for a few weeks, having finally been deemed big enough for a violin, but he had already fallen in love.

“Come on, get your coat on Hamish,” John frowned slightly as Hamish stubbornly refused to move. Soon John was forcefully pushing the mini black trench coat onto the rather infuriating boy. Martin had pulled on his own thick jacket, steel grey in colour. Looped around his neck was a rather long dark green scarf that he refused to part with. He was even worse than Sherlock was with his jacket and scarf; he wouldn’t even take it off when in the house.

Just before they left Hamish suddenly grabbed his own scarf, a dark blue stripe one. He looked like a mini Sherlock the way he was dressed. He really was a mini Sherlock, the only signs that he was John’s son being his deep blue eyes and lack of musical talent.