I Don't Want To Believe

My Little Alien Family

    They waited until they heard the front door close safely before they all let out a large exhale of breath, as if holding it in during the whole of Greg's visit.
"That was close." Harry muttered.
"It wouldn't be tragic if he found out." John shrugged. "Oh, and thanks for telling him about us." John snapped.
"What, I was proud." Sherlock insisted.
"First thirty seconds, ooh we kissed, that's always a great way to meet new people Sherlock." John insisted.
"You never told me you kissed." Harry pointed out.
"My point exactly." John agreed.
"That's what you do when you love someone? I thought you kissed." Sherlock pointed out.
"You do, but you don't run around telling everyone, it makes people, well, uncomfortable, to say the least." John insisted.
"It doesn't make me uncomfortable." Sherlock insisted.
"You're not used to us humans yet; you'll adjust eventually, to the status quo so to say." John shrugged. Sherlock sighed; as if sad he had let John down. Hamish started to cry again, this time for no good reason, and Harry tried to figure out what was wrong while Sherlock and John sat on the edge of the bed, watching her.
"We're going to need parenting classes." Sherlock muttered.
"That'll be even more rumors. Nah, my parents can help out." John decided.
"We're not going to stay here." Sherlock muttered.
"Sherlock, we've got a baby, we can't just go out on the streets with a newborn!" John snapped.
"Why not? I'm sure loads of people have done it before." Sherlock decided.
"No, they haven't, shush." John snapped. "We're staying."
"They'll find us!" Sherlock insisted.
"I said we're staying." John repeated, as if Sherlock didn't hear him properly the first time. Sherlock just frowned, but watched as Harry tried to tickle Hamish to cheer him up.
"He's probably hungry, or thirsty, or needs a diaper change." She insisted.
"See, diapers, perfectly normal." John pointed out. Sherlock groaned, getting to his feet and scooping Hamish into his arms.
"Let's go downstairs and see what the grandparents have to say about it." he decided.
"Don't call them that, I'm still in high school, Harry's five. They're too young to be grandparents." John insisted.
"Well, teen pregnancy rates are still pretty high; there are definitely grandparents younger than them." Harry insisted.
"Shut up Harry, you don't even know how to get pregnant." John snapped.
"Your baby was literally hatched from a test tube; I'd say you don't either." Harry insisted. Sherlock just laughed, walking down the stairs to where the Watson parents were having a hushed discussion at the dinner table. When they saw the group come down the stairs they quieted hastily, smiling forcefully. Hamish carried on with his crying, and John felt rather embarrassed. Obviously they were talking about what they were going to do about their new houseguests, and obviously Sherlock had no idea that he was being talked about.
"WE decided that we have no idea what to do." He insisted, holding out Hamish for the parents to see.
"Well, he's probably just hungry; I can heat up some milk for him." Mrs. Watson suggested.
"Formula, don't people usually give babies that weird formula stuff?" John pointed out.
"Well, yes, but we don't know what the doctor would prescribe him. In fact, he doesn't even have a birth certificate or anything." Mrs. Watson pointed out.
"Not human government please." Sherlock decided.
"Why ever not?" Mrs. Watson asked.
"Just, no." Sherlock decided.
"I'll give you some money; maybe you could drive down and get some formula?" John suggested, hastily changing the subject.
"Oh yes, let me get that for you." Mrs. Watson said sarcastically.
"Come on mom, I am a burdened father, looking for some time to myself, with a baby to take care of, it's not all fun and games." John pointed out.
"You've had this baby for maybe three hours." She insisted.
"And it's a lot of work." John agreed.
"Have fun or the next eighteen years." Mr. Watson pointed out with a sort of laugh. At least he seemed to be a bit lighter.
"Oh, we will." Sherlock assured with a smile, obviously not sensing any sarcasm. John sighed, not knowing what to do with Hamish now that he seemed to be crying to the point of dehydration.
"So, maybe heat up some milk? I can do that, how do you do that? Do we have any bottles?" John asked.
"Maybe in the attic somewhere, I must admit, I wasn't prepared to have a baby in the house, especially on such short notice." Mrs. Watson pointed out.
"Sorry about that." Sherlock muttered.
"Well, I would say it's not your fault, but it kind of is." John shrugged.
"I'll get that milk for you, in the meantime; do try to keep the baby quiet. Turn on Dora or something, he might like that." she suggested.
"Mom, he's like, three hours old." John pointed out.
"Then he's probably just tired." She suggested.
"He's an alpha male, he'll be fine." Sherlock assured.
"Alpha Male or not, he'll be tired." Mrs. Watson assured, getting up and pouring some milk into the tea kettle for Hamish. Sherlock took him over to the living room, rocking him slightly and trying to hum a little song.
"Harry, what channels are the kid's channels?" John asked, following his family into the room and sitting on the couch next to them.
"Channel seven is the real little stuff." Harry shrugged.
"Alright then, Sherlock, press the seven." John decided. Sherlock picked up the remote and looked at it in wonder, pressing the little seven button as if that would help. John sighed in annoyance, grabbing the remote, turning the TV on, and turning it to channel seven. As promised, some Mickey Mouse show was on, with bright colors and lots of annoying music. Maybe Hamish could appreciate it, since he was coming up on four hours on earth.
"This is horrid, is this what passes for Earthly entertainment? Some giant mouse?" Sherlock asked, transfixed by the show more than the crying baby.
"No, it's just for babies and stuff." Harry shrugged, obviously feeling very old when in the presence of a newborn.
"Harry, I remember you watching the other week." John pointed out.
"There was nothing else on, okay?" Harry defended with a scowl. John hummed in doubt, but eventually curled into a little ball, leaning on Sherlock's shoulder and watching Mickey Mouse prance along with all his little animal friends. Hamish was still crying, although not as loud, and John's ear drums were starting to feel the abuse.
"Alright, I'm here, I'm here." Mrs. Watson insisted, rushing over with a blue plastic baby bottle.
"Perfect mom, thanks!" John said happily.
"Do you need help with this, or do you think you've got it?" she asked nervously, handing John the warm bottle of milk.
"Well, I mean, I think we got it. Just don't drown the baby in milk and we'll be fine, right?" John asked.
"Not drowning would be a good thing, yes." Mrs. Watson agreed.
"There we go then, that's easy." John said with a smile. Mrs. Watson rolled her eyes but there was a smile on her face.
"Be careful, we'll be in the kitchen if you need us." She decided. She walked out of the room, muttering about how she was far too young to be doing this. Sherlock took the bottle from John and carefully stuck it into Hamish's crying mouth. Thankfully that seemed to be just what he wanted, drinking the milk in adorable little gulps and staring up at Sherlock and John as if wondering just why they wouldn't leave him alone.
"Take a break for a second." John suggested once he thought that Hamish might be taking in too much milk at once. Sherlock pulled the bottle out of the baby's mouth and was immediately met with more crying.
"On second thought, give him the milk, he's fine." John assured. Sherlock nodded, giving Hamish the milk once more.
"This is so nice." He decided.
"What, feeding the baby?" Harry asked. John sighed, wishing she'd just leave them alone.
"No, having a baby to feed, having a family, I've never had a proper family. The time I've spent in your house is probably the happiest I've ever been." Sherlock admitted.
"If this is your idea of fun, I do pity you." John decided. Sherlock just sighed, looking as if he would give John a hug if there wasn't a baby in his arms. When finally Hamish was done with his milk Sherlock took it away, but this time he was silent, as if he was properly full. Sherlock set the cup on the couch and handed the baby to John for a moment, to let both fathers have a turn with the child. That or he was feeling a bit too burdened. The baby was so small, almost weightless in John's hands, so soft and so precious; it was almost too much to bear.
"Hi Hamish." John said with a smile. The baby looked up at him, no emotions yet in his beautiful green eyes.
"He's not going to say anything back you know, he's a baby." Sherlock pointed out.
"Yes Sherlock, I know he's not going to say anything." John insisted. "It just feels weird not to talk to him."
"He's adorable, isn't he? I'm so happy I picked an attractive human." Sherlock decided.
"I didn't know you did that?" John insisted, pretending to look around for the attractive human.
"That would be you, stupid." Sherlock pointed out.
"I know, I'm great." John agreed with a smile. Hamish gurgled a little bit, but his eyes were already starting to droop. Obviously Mickey Mouse and his hot dog song wasn't enough to keep little Hamish awake.
"We should put him down for a nap." John decided, getting to his feet.
"Where is he going to sleep?" Sherlock asked.
"He can go in my room, I don't really mind." John shrugged.
"Alright, I'll come with you." Sherlock decided.
"I'll come too!" Harry said happily.
"No Harry, Hamish needs to sleep, and you're much too loud." John decided, trying to think of a good way to get rid of her.
"I am not too loud!" Harry debated loudly.
"Just stay down here." John insisted. Harry crossed her arms in a little pout, but eventually she gave up and sat back on the couch, not changing the channel even though Hamish wasn't paying attention. So John carried Hamish upstairs to John's room, closing the curtains and turning off the light so that the baby could sleep in the makeshift darkness.
"Here we go." John decided, putting Hamish down on the bed and pulling one of the blankets over top of him. Hamish's eyes were already closed but he couldn't tell if he was asleep. Obviously babies could fall asleep quickly, but then again Hamish wasn't an ordinary baby. It was still kind of weird, trying to think that he had been created of John's DNA.
"Got to be quiet." John whispered. Sherlock nodded, his skin still looking as radiant as ever even in the darkness.
"I know." Sherlock agreed. John leaned against the wall next to Sherlock, taking one of his hands and taking a deep breath.
"This is still unbelievable. Two weeks, and I've got a baby and a boyfriend, and both are aliens." John sighed.
"Hamish is part alien." Sherlock pointed out.
"Yes, sorry." John agreed with a sigh. "Part alien."
"That's alright, right? I mean, I doubt people will tell the difference once he gets older." Sherlock pointed out.
"There's no problem, Greg couldn't tell you were an alien, and Hamish will be a lot more human than you are, so it works." John shrugged.
"I'd be okay if he were all human. Humans are truly amazing." Sherlock decided. John just smiled shyly.
"How's that?" John muttered.
"Aliens lack a certain type of empathy I suppose; they don't pity the weak, the look at them more as a disadvantage, or a quitter. New people can't be trusted, people aren't who they seem, love is simply a manufactured feeling. Here on Earth, it's nothing like that, people can be happy with they are happy with, they can trust people, make friends with them, and be cared for." Sherlock decided.
"Molly told me you were supposed to marry some girl named Irene up in space." John laughed. Sherlock shuddered at the thought, looking truly horrified.
"She's an awful girl, met her maybe twice, never want to again." Sherlock decided.
"If they decide not to kill you when you go back, will you still have to marry her?" John wondered.
"I'm not going back. They're going to have to kill me." Sherlock insisted.
"No, but if they did, what would you do?" John asked.
"Well, it depends on you I suppose. If you were alive, there was no way I was going to marry her. If you were dead, well, I think I'd follow. Either way, there is no future with Irene." Sherlock insisted.
"We've been together for less than a day, why are you so passionately in love with me?" John asked. Sherlock looked over at John in mild surprise, as if wondering why John would ask such an obvious question.
"John, just because we kissed last night doesn't mean I haven't loved you since we met. I picked you from earth because I had a strange feeling, because something drew me to you above all of the other humans. And when we met, when we truly talked, I realized that I had gotten myself in too deep. That even though we shouldn't feel anything, we shouldn't love someone we aren't assigned to, I was in love. And I've been in love ever since, that's why I couldn't let you die, I couldn't let them take our child and take your life." Sherlock insisted. John just smiled, turning to face Sherlock, to look into his beautiful multicolored eyes.
"I don't think anyone on earth could ever come up with such a beautiful string of words." John decided. Sherlock just laughed a little bit, leaning forward and pecking John on the lips ever so slightly, as if afraid he'd be yelled at.
"And if you were wondering, I feel the same. I love you, and I would die for you and it seems that I probably will." John decided.
"No, John, you can't..." Sherlock started.
"When an entire planet wants you dead, a planet of 'superiors', I don't think I can do anything to stop it." John insisted. Sherlock's smile faded, and he looked genuinely concerned.
"I'm not going to let them kill you John, there's no possible way." He decided.
"Sometimes there's nothing you can do, I'm sorry Sherlock, but if the aliens come, I will end up dead one way or another, it's okay, I've accepted..."
"NO!" Sherlock yelled. Hamish squirmed on the bed, and John shushed him. "No John, there is nothing I wouldn't do to stop that happening."
"I appreciate it Sherlock. Let's not worry about that now, this should be a happy time, I don't know why I'm bringing down the mood with all of this death stuff. They won't find us, I'm sure of it, so don't worry." John assured, pressing a quick kiss to Sherlock's lips to make sure he wasn't all moody the rest of the day.
"Ya, we should get out of here, Hamish is still asleep." Sherlock decided. John just laughed, pulling Sherlock's hand out of the room and back into the hallway. Harry was in her room, seemingly sulking with all of her Barbie dolls, but John really couldn't care less. He was starving and there was a wonderful smell wafting from the kitchen, something that smelled like pork chops. He had missed quality human food while he was away, and there was no better food than his mother's pork chops. So he and Sherlock waited on the couch, watching some soccer game on TV. John was lounging on the armrest and Sherlock deciding that the best course of action was to lay down right on top of him. Then again, John wasn't complaining. He simply put an arm around Sherlock's shoulders with a playful little hair ruffle and watched the game like that, with his little alien.