I Don't Want To Believe

We're Going To Be Fathers!

    It took John a while to get home, after about twenty feet he began to get tired. Not only had he stopped working out, he was still sore from his trek through the corn, so he walked all the way back home with a skip in his step, thinking about what was waiting for him when he got home. His own baby, coming out of its tube, his child, he was going to be a father! This was so exciting; a little part of him was coming into the world in the form of a slimy alien hybrid. When he got home there was no one waiting for him at the door, but that was alright because he skipped up the stairs, throwing his backpack on the ground and running into the guest room. As promised, his mother and Sherlock were both crowded around the tube, which they seem to have put in the bathtub.
"John, just in time, oh, it's coming John, it's coming!" Sherlock said excitedly, throwing his arms around John in excitement. John just hugged him back, seeing his mother's confused glance from over Sherlock's shoulder.
"Are you going to let that leak into the public water supply?" John asked doubtfully.
"No, we blocked the drain, we'll figure out what to do with it later." Mrs. Watson assured. Sherlock finally released him, letting John walk into the bathroom and see what was happening. The glass was cracking, the baby was moving and squirming in its tube, it was alive, oh it was a miracle, that thing that had been motionless, bobbling in its tube was actually moving.
"We should help it." John suggested.
"I don't know what to do; it won't drown, will it?" Mrs. Watson asked apprehensively, watching as more yellow alien liquid leaked into her bathtub.
"I don't know." Sherlock admitted. "Maybe we should help." He decided. John grabbed his hand nervously as the baby placed a rather forceful kick to its glass cage, sending more cracks webbing through.
"That's one alpha male. I kind of expected six pack though, ripped arms." John shrugged.
"Oh shut up. I'll help it out." Sherlock decided, letting go of John's hand and walking over to the tub. The baby was squirming and kicking but to John's surprise it wasn't crying. Most human babies came out crying, this one was quite calm, determined even. It had a goal, and there was no use crying. This was so weird.
"Sherlock, be careful." Mrs. Watson muttered, holding her hands to her mouth as if manually holding in her screams. Obviously she hadn't expected to watch her first grandson hatch in the guest room bathtub.
"I've got it." Sherlock assured, pulling glass from the tube and giving the baby more room to squirm around.
"Is this how most births go?" John asked apprehensively.
"Oh no, of course not, this baby just knows what to do I suppose. I can see the resemblance already." Sherlock said proudly. He pulled more glass away so that the baby could finally squeeze out, but if it fell out of the destroyed tube it would land in a pile of glass shards, and that wouldn't be very baby safe would it?
"Get me a towel." Sherlock insisted. Mrs. Watson threw him the hand towel, which was decorated with rainbow stripes no less, which Sherlock caught easily.
"Alright then." Sherlock muttered.
"There's no umbilical cord or anything?" Mrs. Watson asked nervously.
"Not that I know of." Sherlock shrugged. "This was all scientific."
"Obviously." She muttered.
"I can help." John offered, stepping closer.
"Stay back John, I don't know what this liquid is, if it's toxic to human skin." Sherlock insisted, pushing the shower curtain out of the way in annoyance.
"Okay then, I'll just stand over here then, with the new grandma." John decided, jabbing his mother playfully in the side but feeling somewhat hurt. This was his baby too, who cared if it was toxic?
"I'm too young, let's just go with aunt for now." She insisted shyly.
"Ya, ya, whatever." John sighed. Sherlock was now picking the baby up carefully from the tube, who was still surprisingly calm about this whole thing.
"Be careful with its head." Mrs. Watson suggested.
"I've got it." Sherlock assured, carefully wrapping the baby in the towel and looking down at his son. If John was correct, he thought he saw a tear slide down Sherlock's face, a tear of happiness. All he had ever wanted to was a family, and now he had one. Sherlock stepped out of the bathtub carefully, the baby cradled gently in his arms, a smile like no other on his face. John walked over and looked down at the baby, who looked perfectly normal and perfectly human, staring up at him with beautiful green eyes, flaked with hazel to make a sort of kaleidoscope of colors, like a forest. And still, he didn't cry, as if his fathers were as interesting as he was to them. John's heart nearly burst, to think that this adorable, perfect little being was his son, to think that this would grow and mature and turn into a spectacular alien hybrid, it was nearly breath taking.
"This is ours John, our child." Sherlock said, his voice choked up with emotion. "Our very own."
"I know, he's beautiful." John agreed. Sherlock took a deep breath, wiping a drop of whatever that liquid was off of the baby's forehead with the towel. It already had little hairs sticking up from its head, adorable little colorless baby hairs.
"What are you going to name it?" Mrs. Watson asked, dabbing her eyes.
"I have no idea." Sherlock admitted. "The only name beautiful enough for this child is John."
"Hamish." Mrs. Watson suggested, not seeming to process Sherlock's last sentence well enough.
"That's my middle name, that's creepy." John insisted, but Sherlock's smile only widened.
"Hamish. I like it, Hamish Watson." Sherlock muttered.
"Hamish Holmes." John corrected. Hamish waved his arms a little bit, as if he liked the name as well.
"I'm going to go get the camera." Mrs. Watson exclaimed, running off out of the room and leaving the new parents alone. There was a comfortable silence in the room as they gazed at little Hamish, watching as the baby watched them. Even though he was still covered in baby fat, the baby was already showing signs of having Sherlock's high cheekbones, and his eyes were a beautiful mix between their eyes. It was so weird, but so beautiful, to have a child reflect yourself.
"Would you like to hold him?" Sherlock asked softly. John nodded, holding out his arms carefully, as if afraid to drop him. Sherlock gently placed Hamish in his arms, wrapping the blanket around him like a little baby burrito. It felt so right, to have this little being in his arms, it was so light, so soft, twitching and moving and looking up at his fathers in interest. There really was no other word to describe this new being other than magical; it was the only word that fit.
"My new family." Sherlock muttered, another tear running down his face. Softly he bent down and placed a kiss on the child's forehead, to which Hamish just kicked his feet. Sherlock then straightened up and kissed John's forehead as well, very softly, with tears still sliding down his cheeks.
"You deserve this Sherlock, everything, you deserve it." John muttered.
"I did nothing to deserve something as beautiful as you." Sherlock assured.
"Here we are, get together, come on." Mrs. Watson insisted, showing up just in time to ruin their family moment. John just laughed, adjusting himself so that both he and Sherlock could be in the picture.
"The happy family." Mrs. Watson said with a smile, snapping a picture.
"What is that device?" Sherlock asked curiously.
"It's a camera Sherlock, just go with it." John insisted.
"Ya, alright." Sherlock sighed. Mrs. Watson took serval more pictures, of Hamish, of Sherlock and John holding the baby, talking to each other, even the cracked tube and liquid in the bathtub, it was all very memorable. All John wanted to do was talk to Sherlock alone, where his mother wouldn't hear them, where they could be safe and in love. Of course she'd have to find out some day, and today seemed like a very good day, but for now they would focus on one major plot twist in her middle aged life.
"I should call your father; have him go pick Harry up. How did you get out of the school?" Mrs. Watson asked.
"Oh, I ran. They'll probably call eventually; make sure I'm not dead, again." John shrugged.
"Alright, I'll leave you two alone. Make sure to wash Hamish off, I don't know what liquid that stuff is, but I don't want it all over my house." She decided.
"Yes, yes." John assured. "Shoo."
"I am your mother, and now a grandmother, I can decide when I want to leave!" she insisted.
"Do you want to leave?" John asked. Mrs. Watson sighed, and Sherlock just looked at her curiously.
"Yes." She insisted, and with that she walked out of the room, closing the bathroom door behind her. When they were finally alone again John sat down on the toilet, the only suitable chair in the bathroom, and patted the baby's head gently.
"Hello Hamish." He said with a smile. "I'm your father. I'm John." Shockingly, Hamish didn't respond.
"He may be an Alpha, but he's not going to be talking right after birth." Sherlock insisted, kneeling down and looking at Hamish once more. Neither of them could stop looking at their son, they were transfixed, this small child, it was theirs, their very own. It was a hard thought to grasp.
"So, should we wash him off?" John asked apprehensively.
"Block up the sink, we'll do it there." Sherlock decided. John nodded, getting to his feet and walking over to the sink. Sherlock pushed the little lever down and the drain closed, and John unwrapped Hamish from the towel, still soaked in whatever that alien lemonade was.
"Alright, careful now, not too hot, not too cold." John decided.
"I'll try, one moment." Sherlock agreed, running the two taps and holding his hand under them for a moment to make sure they were the perfect temperature.
"I think we're good." He decided. John carefully put Hamish under the stream of water. Evidently it wasn't as peaceful as a regular human shower, because the moment the water touched him, Hamish started to wail. John immediately pulled him out, scared that the water was hurting him or something, but he continued to sob, squirming in John's arms and making it very difficult for him to be held.
"What do I do?" John asked.
"I don't know, finish washing him." Sherlock insisted.
"It's not hurting him?" John asked.
"I don't know, I doubt it, I mean, what could water do?" Sherlock insisted, looking panicked.
"If I kill our baby, it's your fault." John decided.
"Don't say that please, John don't say that." Sherlock insisted.
"Alright, alright." John sighed. He put Hamish under the water again, letting Sherlock wipe off any chemicals or whatnot with a small washcloth. The baby cried and cried, flailing his little arms and legs, obviously not too excited about bath time.
"I feel like I'm torturing him." John sighed as he ran the baby's head under the water. Sherlock carefully dabbed the washcloth on his face, careful not to get it in his eyes or nose.
"He'll be fine, he's just a baby." Sherlock assured. "He's our beautiful baby."
"He already looks like you." John pointed out.
"I hope not." Sherlock insisted.
"Don't be like that, you're beautiful." John assured.
"As are you. And I hope he reflects more of your pure beauty than my hideous image." Sherlock decided.
"Oh shush." John insisted. When finally Hamish was done washing, they wrapped him once more in the towel, not knowing what else to do, and walked into the bedroom, setting the baby down on the bed carefully. As soon as the water was gone and he was wrapped up, Hamish stopped crying, looking around at his surroundings and wiggling his arms and legs.
"He's so precious." John muttered. Sherlock nodded silently, wrapping his arms around John from behind and swaying slightly.
"This is everything I've ever wanted and more." He muttered softly. John nodded, overlapping Sherlock's hands and humming softly.
"I never thought an alien abduction could be so perfect." He agreed. Hamish just stared at the ceiling; to him it was probably the most interesting ceiling in the world. In about ten minutes Mr. Watson and Harry arrived. Obviously they cleared things with the school about John's leaving, because there was no phone call and no police force breaking down the door.
"Where is it?" Harry asked excitedly, running through the door. Sherlock and John were sitting together against the headboard, the baby spread out on both of their laps, wrapped in the towel and cooing softly.
"Be gentle Harry." Mrs. Watson insisted as she climbed onto the bed to investigate.
"So, it's not just clay is it? You're actually an alien, and that's actually my grandson?" Mr. Watson asked upon entering the room. Sherlock nodded silently, watching as Harry crawled over his legs to see Hamish.
"We've told you that from the beginning." John agreed. Mr. Watson seemed to be speechless as Harry patted Hamish's head gently, real baby, moving and alive, not just some wacky art project.
"An alien baby, I never thought they'd be so adorable." She insisted. Hamish wiggled his arm at her and Harry just poked at his little fingers, as if they were fascinating.
"He's so small." She decided.
"You were that small too." John insisted. Harry laughed, as if she wasn't convinced, and continued playing with Hamish.
"So, this is actually the child of both of you? Like, together?" Mr. Watson asked, once again not able to process what he was seeing.
"Biological science experiment with magical results." John agreed.
"This is crazy." Mr. Watson muttered.
"His name is Hamish. Do you accept him? Do you accept us?" Sherlock asked, looking up at Mr. Watson as if challenging him. John's father drew himself to his full height, as if he would even be the slightest bit intimidating to Sherlock.
"I don't even know you!" Mr. Watson insisted. "You got dragged to my house in a wagon and gave birth to your freaky alien in my bathtub, what am I supposed to say?"
"I chose your son, nurtured him, protected him, saved his life. I love your son Mr. Watson, and if you can't accept that he has a new family, a family that consists of the alien dragged here in a wagon and the baby that came to this world in your bathtub, then you are not part of John's family any longer." Sherlock snapped. Harry's jaw dropped in surprise, as if not expecting Sherlock to so clearly announce his love. John just sat there and watched as his father reacted very slowly, but nodded.
"I'm sorry, yes, of course, welcome to the family Sherlock." Mr. Watson muttered after a nudge from his wife. Sherlock smiled triumphantly, looking at John as if expecting thanks. John just rolled his eyes as his crazy alien boyfriend, so defensive and protective.
"Everyone get together, I want another picture." Mrs. Watson insisted, holding up her camera. After a while, Mrs. Watson was able to find some of Harry and John's old baby clothes. One of Harry's little one pieces fit best, but John decided that he didn't want his alpha male to be wearing a shirt that said Mommy's little princess, especially if Hamish didn't have a mommy. Sherlock rather liked the attached tutu, but they decided for a slightly bigger but more manly dinosaur shirt. Harry was trying to wrestle it onto the now screaming child, who had never worn anything except a glass case in its very short life.