Sherlock: The Next Generation

Chapter 4

“I’ll be back soon,” John called to Sherlock, who merely nodded.

“Goodbye, Daddy!” Hamish called as he was ushered out of the door by John. Martin merely waved. Sherlock smiled at them before going back to staring at his laptop screen. John was pretty certain that he was pondering over what to name their new daughter.

John managed to get his sons out of the door and flag down a taxi so that they were promptly on their way. A silence fell over the small family. Hamish was scowling deeply, staring out the window as he did so, and Martin appeared to be practicing the fingering of the latest song Sherlock had taught him for the violin. Though it was half a year ago Sherlock had already planned out what he wanted to get his musical son for his fifth birthday. A keyboard. So he could take a step towards playing the piano. John just watched his sons in an amused fashion, pushing them both gently out of the cab when they arrived at their destination. It was a nice little building built specifically to be a sort of nursery going onto pre-school so it could be occupied by children of all ages while their parents were busy. Or if parents really just wanted their children to socialise.

Hamish took one look at the entrance and hated it. ‘Sunny Day Care’ read the bright yellow letters above the door. How generic. It looked absolutely horrid. The squeals of playing children could already be heard as they entered into the small entrance hall crossed with a waiting room. The seats lining it were plush and there was a desk with a receptionist sitting behind it typing avidly into a computer. John took hold of both his sons’ hands, the scowling Hamish and curious Martin, and approached this woman.

“Hello?” He queried, offering a light smile as the woman looked up.

“Good morning! And you would be?”

“John Watson. These are my sons, Hamish and Martin Watson-Holmes,” John replied, glancing down at the two boys beside him.

“Ah, yes, just follow me and I will take you to were their age group is situated,” the receptionist moved from behind the desk and began leading them along a rather long corridor. Eventually she opened a door to a rather large room, with another small one off to the side (really it was all part of the same room). The larger area was scattered with toys of all sorts, arts materials and playing children. The smaller are had a small library and quite a few cushions to sit on. And an absence of children. John noticed that there was another door on the back wall which was kept open leading outside into a rather large, grassy play area. A very nice place, in his opinion.

The receptionist left as another woman headed over, who John could only assume was in charge of this section.

“You must be Doctor Watson? I’m Miss North and I’m in charge of all the four years olds.” John promptly took her hand and shook it. The rather kindly looking woman then bent down so she was at the level of Martin and Hamish.

“And who are you two?” She asked softly, obviously already knowing who they were. But John knew from experience that most normal four year olds liked to brag about who they were. Not his two, however.

“You already know,” Hamish scowled. “But if you must hear it from our mouths... I’m Hamish Watson-Holmes and this is Martin Watson-Holmes.” Miss North looked slightly shocked but quickly regained her composure.

“Well, Hamish and Martin, how about you say goodbye to your Daddy and go play with some of the other children.”

Martin blinked slightly, biting his lip. He didn’t want to leave and go... talk to the other people around but knew that there was no point arguing. He suddenly hugging his Papa’s leg tightly, whispering a goodbye so silent that only John could hear. He then ran off towards the library and disappeared from view around the corner. Undoubtedly gone to sketch. Miss North frowned at this and something told John that she would be going to talk to Martin later.

“He’s not our Daddy, he’s our Papa!” Hamish exclaimed indignantly, free hand clenching into a fist. “And I don’t want to play with the other children! I don’t want to be in this stupid place!” Oh God. John hadn’t expected him to throw a minor temper tantrum.

“I don’t think it really matters what you call him...”

“It does!” Hamish was thankfully keeping his voice down, but the annoyance in it was quite visible. Verging on anger. “He’s our Papa and Daddy is our Daddy!” Realisation flashed across Miss North’s face.

“Ok, Hamish, say goodbye to your Papa and come play.”

“I DON’T WANT TO SAY GOODBYE!” Miss North was about to say something more but John gave her a look that said ‘let me handle this.’ He knelt down to Hamish’s level, putting his hands on the young boy’s shoulder.

“Listen, Hamish,” he spoke quietly and softly. “It’s not going to be for too long. You’ll have loads of fun and make friends. Okay?”

“What if they don’t like me?” Hamish’s bottom lip began to tremble and tears welled up in his eyes. John quickly pulled him into a tight hug. He wondered if Sherlock had been like this the first time he had gone to a day care. Somehow he doubted it. Though Sherlock would have had a worry about making friends, possibly, he would have dealt with it in a fashion more similar to Martin. Going to a place he could be alone. Hamish was having a very emotional reaction. Though Sherlock showed emotions more now, he had not when John first met him.

“They will like you,” John soothingly rubbed his son’s back. “Just be yourself and try not to be mean, ok?” He pulled back with a smile. “Now off you go and be a good boy for Miss North.”

“Ok,” Hamish mumbled, wiping the tears from his eyes.

“And look after your brother.”

“I will!” There was that determined look that John loved.

“Good,” John chuckled, standing up. “Have fun, Hamish.” He quickly ruffled his son’s curls before turning around to go back home.