Dr. John Holmes, my father, was just about to open the door when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He quickly turned around and a big bird swooped his head. He wrapped his arms around his head to shield himself, throwing the milk bottle in the air. It splatted everywhere and all over his boots. John looked up and there was an owl sitting on top of his home, 221B Baker Street. He thought that was weird but he decided to just go inside and tell his love of his life about it.
He opened the door half way, but he was stopped by something on the floor. He guessed I must have left my school books on the floor. “Hamish! Move your stuff, I can’t get in!” he shouted up the stairs. I made a loud, sarcastic sigh. “Just help me get in!” John was becoming really annoyed and the milk wasn’t making it any better. I came thumping down the stairs. I took a big gasp of air half way down the stairs.
“Dad… Dad… DAD!!”
“What is it Hamish”
“Come and have a look.” I chuckled to himself. Sherlock came slowing down the stairs. He saw the massive pile of letters piled against the door. He gave a smirk when he picked up the letter with a red stamp seal. Sherlock pushed the letters from the door so John could come in.
John came in with milk on him boots and really pissed off. He looked down at the letters and snapped. “What are all of these letters? Why are they here? I got milk on my boots and I’m going to have to get some more at the shop!” He became calmer and in a deep and slow voice, he said, “The post doesn’t even come on Sunday.” Sherlock looked at me. It was my 11th birthday. Dad gave the biggest smile ever and said “this post does.”
After John had a shower and got some more milk for Sherlock to make Hamish a birthday cake, he looked at the unopened letter in the middle of their living room. He looked at his son, then back at the letter and snatched it from the table. He went to the kitchen were Sherlock was pulling out a round cake from the oven. “What is this?” John said holding up the letter. “Just wait until I’ve finished the cake.” Then Sherlock leant over and gave John a peck on the cheek. John liked this and they got into a more passionate kiss with their hands around each other’s faces.
“Gross.” I said. Sherlock and John turned their heads around to look at him on the couch, with a small giggle.
Sherlock finished icing the cake, John and he sung Happy Birthday and they all sat down with a piece of cake with the letter in the middle of them. Sherlock looked at me and said “Hamish, it’s your 11th birthday and someone has sent you a letter.”
“It might just be Uncle Mycroft.”
“No, it’s not. It’s a school. They want you to go to their school. It’s a boarding school, so you’ll only see us in the holidays. I want you to consider this because it’s a great school and I think you should go.”
John and I were in shock.
“You want to send him away?!” John yelled at Sherlock
“I’m not going to leave here! I love you! I don’t want to be sent away. What have I done wrong? Why are you punishing me?”
“I’m not punishing you.” Sherlock calmed me down and gave me the letter. I opened it slowly. The envelope reads:
Mr. Hamish Holmes
Room Next to Bathroom
221B Baker Street
London
England
I read the letter inside out loud:
“Dear Mr Holmes, we are pleased to inform you that, as you have now turned eleven years of age and have necessary talents, you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” He looked up at his two dads and then just at Sherlock. Sherlock said to him “You’re a wizard Hamish.”
I looked at my two fathers. One super confused and one smiling like he just won billions of pounds. I looked at the two of them and smiled.
