Because He Was Alone

Chapter Fifteen: Mummy?

Chapter Fifteen: Mummy?

Sherlock was awoken by a stirring on his chest. Groggily, the detective opened his eyes and peered down at Hamish, who had just shifted slightly on his chest, but had not woken up yet. The sunlight was streaming through the window, making the little boy's already-pale skin look white.

Trying not to wake Hamish, Sherlock shifted, the memories of last night rushing back. Remembering that his son's hand was resting sweetly against his chest, the detective squeezed his own just slightly, wrapping his fingers around Hamish's hand, which was still resting at the base of his neck. He closed his eyes, sighing in reassurance upon feeling his son's hand beneath his own.

"Good morning, Hamish," he whispered quietly, opening his eyes, and giving the little boy a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Mmm… Daddy?" Hamish murmured, shifting again as he did so. The little boy slowly opened his eyes and peered up at Sherlock, but quickly squeezed them shut again upon seeing how bright it was. Groaning quietly, he shoved his face into Sherlock's neck, trying to get away from the bright light.

"No, Daddy," he mumbled, his tiny voice muffled slightly as he spoke against the detective's skin.

Sherlock chuckled happily and brushed his hand once over the little boy's bare back.

"Morning," he chuckled, yawning widely as he sat up. He felt Hamish giggle against his skin.

"Daddy," he laughed happily, pulling his head away from Sherlock's neck. Allowing his eyes to adjust to the light, Hamish squinted up at the detective, pushing his hands against Sherlock's collarbone in an effort to stand up.

Smiling, Sherlock held Hamish up, keeping the boy steady by holding him around the middle with one hand.

Now almost fully awake and even with his father's face, Hamish reached forward, flattening the palms of his small hands against Sherlock's cheeks.

"Morn' Daddy," he said, smiling as he stared into the detective's grey eyes.

"Good morning, Hamish," Sherlock answered happily. "Are you feeing better?"

Hands still on his father's face, Hamish nodded happily. "'Etter, Daddy," he stated firmly. "Ew…" he added, sticking his bottom lip out as he look earnestly at Sherlock.

The detective couldn't help but laugh out loud at his son's comment.

"Yes," he chuckled, brushing the back of his hand across Hamish's forehead. "Ew… Are your ears still hurting you?" he added, twirling some of the little boy's silky hair between his fingers.

"Ouch?"

"Yes. Ouch?"

Hamish thought for a moment. His small fingers curled against Sherlock's cheeks as he thought. Eventually, he removed one hand and tugged at one of his ears.

"Your ears still hurt, yes?"

"'Es, Daddy."

"Well… I say we go and talk to John and see if we can't just help with that, hmm?"

"'Es, 'ease, Daddy," Hamish replied, nodding his head solemnly as he did so.

"All right. Let's go," Sherlock said, getting off the bed. Hamish's hands were still resting on his face.

It took several days for Hamish to fully bounce back from the sickness, but very quickly afterwards, he returned to his calm, happy self.