Johnlocked

Being Stubborn

Tiny bit angst? Mostly cute. I'm working on two really depressing one shots rn so I ought to release some cute stuff. I've had a lot going on lately because I'm moving states so it's kinda hectic right now. Anyways, I'm working on something called, "Highway to Hell" and, "Crimson." One is plain angsty sad and the other is really gritty and depressing(zombies you're welcome in advance for the gore.) It's cracking me up because both those titles could be for the Zombie one😂. Ah well, enjoy.

John looked at Hamish, fondly smiling at his boys. Sherlock, a surprisingly affectionate father, was cuddled up with their ten year old son. They were both fast asleep, and the Hobbit lay on the floor where it had fallen from Sherlock's hand. John chuckled. The book had always been a staple in Hamish's young life, Sherlock had read it to him from the time that he was just a baby. Sometimes it seemed to John that the magic poured out of the pages into their life, but he knew that the book was just a book.

As of late, Hamish had started to take an even larger interest into the Hobbit. As an almost eleven year old, he loved the things that most young boys did. Sword fighting, adventures, battles- he was definitely more like his biological father than he was similar to Sherlock.

Before John and Sherlock actually got together, John had met a girl. Her name was Mary. Things got serious.

But one night, John had met Sherlock's eyes after running from a gunman- the thrill of the chase making them laugh hysterically- and he had realized that he never wanted to look away and at anyone else. The very next day he told Mary that he wanted to break things off. She had told him she was pregnant. And not a day later John and Sherlock- together at last- told her that they wanted custody.

And so, in the midst of navigating their budding relationship, the two bachelors of Baker Street got hitched and adopted Hamish William Watson-Holmes.

John walked over to the couch and softly ran his fingers through Hamish's already mussy hair, causing the boy to yawn owlishly. "Dad?" He asked, closing his eyes again sleepily.

"Come on, you, it's time for bed." He smiled down at his son and helped him slip out of Sherlock's arms. The dark haired detective continued to snooze on, ever the heavy sleeper. John followed Hamish up the stairs to his bedroom. He traced his hand along the soft, worn wood of the banister. Mrs. Hudson had left the place to them when she passed away two years ago. John and Sherlock couldn't bear the thought of leaving and so they stayed. But he bottom apartment was still empty, they couldn't imagine anyone else taking up the space. John couldn't help but glance down at the ground floor for a moment, thinking of days long past... Days spent running around like fools. Days spent young...

Hamish clambered into bed, letting his father tuck him in. "Excited for school to get out?" John asked, smiling down at his son. He was almost done for the year- the three were heading off to work a case in Scotland once summer came in celebration. John didn't let himself think of Scotland often, but now he wondered just how nice it would be to be back.

"It's not school if I spend all my time correcting the teacher." Hamish mumbled, pulling the blankets over his head. John chuckled softly as the ten year old bundled up into a cocoon.

"Goodnight, Hamish William." He said fondly, sneaking one last look at his son before making his way back to Sherlock.

Sherlock was not nearly as pleasant about being awoken as Hamish had been.

"Sherlock," John hissed, glaring at his husband. "You can't just sleep on the couch."

"Obviously I can, John." Sherlock huffed, impatient to fall back asleep.