"What?" He smiled over at you.
"Where are you taking Hamish?"
His smile grew a little bit as did your sons.
His smile was crooked, much like his fathers. He was the spitting image of him and was already showing his intelligence at such a young age. His hair curled and bounced at the top of his head while his eyes shimmered a bright (e/c).
"Dad's taking me to see a crime scene!" Hamish blurted out excitedly.
"What? Oh no, you are not going to a crime scene." You frowned, lifting the small child up into your arms.
"It's not going to be that bad, (Y/N). Just one of the suicides that have been taken place recently." Sherlock explained.
"That's even worse!" You turned away from him.
You thudded your way upstairs towards Hamish's bedroom.
"Mum! Let me go! Dad promised that he would take me to see a real crime scene!" He whined and squirmed but you wouldn't budge.
"When I say no Hamish I mean no."
"You're home early." She said, with her back turned to him as she wrapped the tinsel around the middle of the tree, making sure it was sitting right before returning to the box of decorations that she had placed on the table.
"How was the case?" She pulled out a long train of silver tinsel and began to continue her decorating while Sherlock ranted about how tedious his recent case was.
"..It was obvious the daughter had done it, no one noticed the pack of cards." He stated, collapsing onto his chair once he removed his scarf and jacket, hanging them in their usual place behind the door.
"Only you would notice something like that, Sherlock." She mumbled, tucking an end of tinsel onto a branch and making sure that it wouldn't fall off.
"Where is John?" She asked, finally turning around to
"Sherlock?" She calls up the stairs. "Can you give me a hand with the bags please?"
After a few apologies, Sherlock rushes down the stairs.
"Who are you talking to?" She asks, handing him a few carrier bags.
"No one," He blurts out. "Did you get everything?" He searches through the bag.
"Yes, I did," She attempts to nudge him up the stairs with her elbow. "Don't tell me that I missed something just to check me out of the house. Who's upstairs? Is it clients?"
She frowns. "Sort of? What do you mean sort of?"
(Y/N) walls past him and up the stairs. Sherlock shouts on but she ignores him, taking the few shopping bags that she has up with her.
She nudges the door open with her shoulder and was met by a man and a woman sitting on the couch. An el
"Oh hey, (Y/N). I didn't expect you to be back so soon," John asked, leaning against the doorway towards the living. I could spot my father, Sherlock, lying on the couch in his usual 'thinking' position. "Are you okay?"
I rub my palms together and bite my bottom lip. I nod.
"Yeah, I'm just a little tired," I reply. I point up the stairs towards my room. "I've just got to study for this stupid assessment for English."
He nods his head. "Okay, well I'll shout you down when dinner arrives. Chinese sound okay?"
"Yeah, sounds fine. I'm not really hungry though." I lie. I tug on the sleeves of my hoodie that is poking out beneath my leather jacket.
I turn my back on him and trek up the stairs to my room.
"You're gonna have to eat something though!"
I ignore his voic