Sherlock: The Next Generation

Chapter 48

Chapter 48

"That was Lestrade calling," Sherlock was up from his seat in an instant as he spoke, mobile pack in his pocket. "Three murders, all on the same day in completely different places under completely different circumstances. But they seem connected. We need to head over to the Yard now. If we hurry we'll catch the murdered before he kills again." Sherlock was already pulling on his coat and scarf. "Come on John, Hamish!" John was right behind him, Hamish last to follow.

"I want to come!" Molly stood up, a scowl on her lips.

"It will be dangerous, Molly. You can't come," Sherlock glanced around and frowned at his daughter.

"But Hamish is going!"

"Hamish is fifteen. You are not even eleven yet," Sherlock replied. "It's too dangerous. Stay here. Martin, you're in charge while we're out."

"There's pasta in the cupboard if we're not back in time for dinner," John added before following his husband out of the door. Hamish shot an apologetic glance at his upset little sister before hurrying out of the door. Molly plopped down on the sofa, curling up and facing the back of the sofa in a Sherlock style huff. Martin merely rolled his eyes, getting up and heading into his room. It seemed that going out with Karina that night was off the table. He would have to make alternative arrangements...

"Come on, John, we're losing him!" Sherlock called as he swiftly veered right some obscure alleyway.

"My legs aren't as long as Hamish's and yours, and I'm getting old!" John shouted back as he ran behind his son and husband, panting slightly. He was beginning to get a bit too old for this.

Sherlock stopped momentarily, face screwed up as he mapped a route through the streets of London. They would lose him if they continued along the path they were going. Unless... Yes, that was it! Sherlock continued, not allowing John any time to catch his breath. Soon they came to the metal stairs leading up to the roof of one of the tenements. Sherlock easily ran up, Hamish right behind. John was a bit slower. Yes, he was definitely beginning to age a bit. The time couldn't come soon enough when Hamish took over.

Sherlock leapt over the small gap between two buildings, Hamish doing the same fearlessly. John went to follow, stumbling as he did so. A sharp pain shot through his left leg as he felt himself collapse against the hard surface of the other building.

"Papa!" Hamish was the first to reach John, kneeling down beside him. John blinked away the tendrils of pain that were clouding his eyes, moving himself into a position where he could calculate the damage. He must have caught his foot on the edge of the building or something. And judging by the way he couldn't move his left leg it was broken. Brilliant. This was just bloody brilliant. "Are you okay?"

John nodded, biting his lip. Sherlock had hurried back, glancing down at John with a frown. "Broken leg?" Again, John nodded. "Hamish, stay with John. Phone an ambulance and phone the police. Tell them we I am going. You know where it is."

"You can't continue alone," John managed to bite out, wincing. "Too dangerous."

"I'll be fine, the police will get there." Sherlock made a face, quickly leaning down to press a kiss against John's lips. "Although I won't feel as safe without my blogger." He straightened up, ruffling Hamish's hair in a comforting manner (the fifteen year old looked rather distraught). "I'll see you in the hospital." With that he was off. Hamish pulled out his mobile, quickly making the calls that it was necessary to make.

"There are stairs down these buildings too," Hamish commented, eyes fixed on the ground. He'd never had to deal with something like this before. One of his dads being injured. Well, badly. "If we go down there it will be easier when the ambulance comes."

"Yes, I think that is a good idea." John nodded slightly. Hamish put his arm under his papa's and around his back, helping him stand. John found himself leaning heavily on his son. This was going to be difficult. Considering that he only had one leg that worked at the moment. He ended up hopping, leaning heavily on Hamish as he did so. How they would get down the stairs he did not know.

"We can't get down the stairs like this..." Hamish frowned down at John (damn being small). Hamish only thought for a few seconds before swiftly putting a plan into action. This plan involved swiftly picking John up, much to the older man's dismay. No. No way was he being carried down by his son. This was just embarrassing.  

"Put me down, Hamish. I'm too heavy."

"You're really not." There was a faint hint of smirk on Hamish's lips as he proceeded to move, going slowly down the stairs. He definitely took after his dad. In both height and stubbornness. Actually, maybe he took after John in his stubbornness.

Hamish ended up going with John to the hospital, but was promptly chucked out when Sherlock turned up (completely uninjured with just a bit of blood stuck in his hair) and sent him back home. Hamish was glad about that, frankly. He hated hospitals. He had never liked them. They were places of grief. He disliked that.

Hamish came home to his siblings at dinner, along with Karina (who

m

he guessed had been invited over by Martin). Well, Molly and Kari eating while Martin just sat with them to talk. Hamish smiled slightly and plopped down next to his little sister.

"Where are dad and papa?" Molly was the first to speak, the worry in her voice echoed by Martin's deep blue eyes.

"Hospital," Hamish began, quickly adding more before Molly and Martin panicked. "Papa broke his leg. Nothing too bad." They both nodded and proceeded to 'normal' dinner conversation. All were in bed when Sherlock and John returned from the hospital.

John spent the rest of the summer holidays with his leg in a cast. Sherlock took a few, small cases with the help of Hamish and Molly but nothing major. He helped the police, yes, but he refused to put all his time into it. He spent every free moment fussing over John. It got to the point where John was forcing Sherlock out the door to help with a case just so that he could get a bit of space and time to relax. It was wonderful and all, but Sherlock's fussing was a bit tiring. The kids just went about their daily summer business. Molly played football at a club quite a lot and was often doing things with friends. Martin

up

 to Edinburgh a week before the end of his holidays to stay with Max. Even Hamish did social things. Well, was forced to by Ollie.

But the holidays weren't too bad, even if John was a bit confined. It could have been worse. If anything it helped Sherlock and him realise that they weren't as young as they had once been. Soon the time would come for them to retire. They had already made plans, actually. And when that time came they knew that the title of consulting detective would be in safe hands.