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221b had become a very stressful flat to be in the past few weeks. It was the holidays and while John and Sherlock normally had a few of their friends over for drinks on Christmas Eve this year was a bit different. John picked up his coffee cup and saw that his hand was shaking. He was stressed, but it was the wrong kind of stress.
It wasn’t stress over what they were to get Hamish for Christmas. What to make for Christmas dinner. If everything was in place, or if the tree looked okay. No, this stress was far worse than any of those.
John was going to see his parents this Christmas Eve. It had been years since he had actually gone home to visit. Sure he had emailed and skyped once in a blue moon, but he never took the trip down from London back home. But to add to the stress of seeing them, he was bringing with him two other people. His husband Sherlock and their son Hamish.
Yep. He was defiantly nervous.
Sadly John knew how the evening was going to go. He wanted to think that maybe for once his mother would be civil, his sister would be sober and his father wouldn’t make snide remarks about being a fairy. Along with John’s nerves there was Sherlock. He didn’t quit understand the whole “Hamish should at least meet his grandparents” idea John came up with, he blamed the stupid Christmas cards people sent them. Sherlock was happy just the three of them. Hamish had other people in his life his Aunt Sarah, Aunt Molly, Uncle Lestrade Ms. Hudson. That was more than adequate according to Sherlock.
But Sherlock was doing this for John. He loved him and he was beginning to understand you did think you didn’t like for those you loved.
What Sherlock worried the most about was, John’s parents were going to be finding out about Sherlock and Hamish. It was a year and a half ago when they got married in a simple ceremony. A few friends, Hamish was there who held the rings for his Papa and Dad. It was simple and just what they needed.
Sherlock had barrowed one of Mycroft’s cars for them to take the trip to John’s parents. Unlike when they normally traveled they had to bring stuff for their son. John packed his son’s bag with his pajamas with high hopes the night would go good, and they would be taking a sleeping Hamish home late at night. Along with this bee, polar bear and sonic screw driver. John debated on bringing food. He decided to toss a few snacks in the bag in case there was nothing Hamish could eat.
Hamish was also confused on what was going on. He didn’t understand why he needed to meet his grandparents. These people were obviously causing his dad a lot of pain and therefore they must not be very nice leading them to be unnecessary in his life. But he didn’t complain, John buckled him up into his booster seat and handed him a new book for the ride. He pushed his sons glassed up on his face and kissed him on the top of his head. Hamish thanked his dad for the new book on polar bears as John shut the door.
The ride to Aldershot was quite. Sherlock had turned the radio on to Christmas music; he knew Hamish liked to read with music paying in the background. John sat in the passenger seat with his soldier face on. He looked straight ahead with his hands on his knees. John would occasionally look in the rear view mirror to see Hamish as he read his lips moving as he pronounced the words. For being 6 he was an avid reader and most of what he wanted for Christmas was new books or to go and spend a day in the bookstore.
Soon the silence was broken as Hamish spoke up. “What should I call them?” he asked looking up from his book.
John looked in the rearview mirror. “What Hal?” he asked him as he came back to reality. He looked and Sherlock took his foot off the gas and slowed the speed down on the M3.
“What should I call your mum and dad,” Hamish asked his dad again, he set the book on the seat next to him.
John cleared his throat; he saw Sherlock’s gaze on him. “Well, you can call them grandma and grandpa,” he explained to his son. “Or Mrs. Watson and Doctor Watson.”
“I would go with the later,” Sherlock told his son as he looked in the rearview mirror to check and see how he was doing on the longish car ride. Being six they didn’t travel long distance with a car, not knowing if he would get carsick or not. “And don’t forget good ‘ole Aunt Harriet.”
John looked at Sherlock, he wanted to scold him but he just took his right hand looking down at the simple silver band on his finger. He held onto his hand tight. Intertwining their fingers Sherlock gave John’s hand three tight squeezes, they did this when they were on a case, in a taxi or being yelled at by Lestrade.
I. Love. You.
John smiled as he gave four short and tight squeezes back.
I. Love. You. To.
John took a deep breath as the four wheels of the car pulled into his parents freshly snow covered parkway. Turning the car off John noticed that his parent’s didn’t come to the door to see who was there or to great them. Getting out of the car, Sherlock opened the boot and grabbed the bag of presents and Hamish’s bag. Walking to the back of the car, John opened up the car door; Hamish had unbuckled himself from his booster seat. He wrapped his long arms around John’s neck as he picked his son up; brushing his brown hair out of his eyes he put Hamish down on the parkway. John took the bags from Sherlock’s hand as he locked the car. Sherlock held out his hand, John took a deep breath, taking it he knew it would be okay. They could make it through anything.
Walking up to the door, John took his left hand and rang the bell. It took a while for anyone to answer but when the door finally cracked open John saw his mother’s head pop out. Sherlock looked at her, she was a shorter woman, and her hair was in a short bob. He could tell she once had blonde hair like her son but it had changed to a gray and white color. Her face was narrower than her sons, and she had brown eyes. “Oh Johnny,” she said looking at her son. “I thought it would just be you.”
John pushed his lips together before he spoke to his mother. “I told you I was bringing my family.” He reminded her as they stood out in the cold and snow. He had emailed his mother last week telling her that himself, Sherlock and Hamish would be over for Christmas Eve.
“You don’t have a wife, so I thought you were joking,” she said as she looked Hamish and Sherlock up and down. “Is this your uhhh… flat mate? And his nephew?” she asked almost hoping that was who it was.
“No mum,” sighed John. “This is Sherlock, my Husband and our son Hamish.” John pushed past his mother, his feet were getting wet. Wiping the snow off their feet Sherlock knelt down and helped his son get out of his coat. Making sure he put his gloves and scarf in the pockets of his coat. John set the bags on the ground as he took off his new wool pea coat Sherlock had given to him as an early Christmas gift, informing him that his old black one was too old and ratty to be seen in public with.
Hamish stood close to both Sherlock and John as they stood in the entry to the house. Sherlock knew that John had come from a modest family; he could tell that the house had not changed since John was Hamish’s age and would have been running around with his sister. Hamish looked around as he observed his new surroundings. The house was clean, a far different experience than it was at 221b. Looking up at his dad he could tell he was tense. His jaw was clenched like it was when he and his Papa would have rows about limbs in the fridge and the safety and health of Hamish and making sure he didn’t contract some diseases from loose fluid or blood.
As they walked into the living room John’s mom looked at her son. “I only made up your room Johnny… I hope Sherlock’s okay with the couch.”
“No Sherlock is not okay with the couch,” Sherlock said, he didn’t know they were spending the night. Hamish looked at his Papa, this though was not true he had come down many time in the middle of the night to use the bathroom or to get a drink of water and he would find his Papa asleep on the couch with a blanket draped over him. “I would prefer to sleep with my husband. But I don’t think we will be staying that long into the evening.” He admitted wishing that they could leave right now.
John’s mother stopped and blushed a little. “Now, that was a lovely joke at the door but I’m afraid you’ll have to leave if you insist on saying distasteful things.”
Hamish looked at his grandmother. “Papa, I don’t understand,” he said putting his hands into his navy dress trousers he was forced to wear. John had put him in a button up jumper, but as a compromise he was allowed to wear his Doctor Who shirt under it. “Why is she so stupid?” Hamish was genuinely confused at why she didn’t understand that his Papa and Dad were married and slept in the same bed each night.
John’s mother’s eyes grew wide, “excuse me?” she asked.
Hamish looked at her from behind his glasses and furrowed his brow. Sherlock smiled, he looked like John when he pressed his lips together. “Dad told you twice that he and Papa were married,” he paused and looked his newly met grandmother up and down. “I don’t see you having any ear defects so therefore the problem must be mental if you keep thinking my Dad and Papa aren’t married.” Hamish explained to her.
Sherlock huffed out a short laugh. “Excellent deduction Hamish,” he said to his son. Even John reached down a hand and ruffled his brown hair as they headed into the living room of John’s childhood home.
It was the same, the same tree, the same hideous decorations, the same smell that John grew up with for 18 years of his life. John stopped as his father, a taller man, his face round with the same deep blue eyes as John stood up from his chair. Hamish set the presents down under the tree, for that is where they went, even at their house they were under the tree.
“There’s my son,” he said giving John a hug. John’s body was tense as his father went on to speak, “Dear, I thought you said John was coming with his family.”
John held up a finger to Hamish, he held his mouth as he stood by the tree. Sherlock also knew not to say anything. Not until John gave him the okay to. “Father, this is my husband Sherlock and this,” he said as Hamish walked over to John. “This is our son Hamish.”
John’s father’s lips spread across his face into a smile and he was soon laughing. Hamish looked up at his Dad. He didn’t say anything funny. John’s mother stood there and shook her head at her husband. “That’s a good one Johnny; you really yanked our chains there. Now really where is your wife?”
John stood there annoyed. Sherlock crossed his arms over his chest, “Well this is truly fun trying to explain a simple concept to such a stupid bunch of people.” Sherlock stood next to John and looked at his father and then back to John’s mother. “Okay, John and I are married, we have a son. Now can we just move on?” he asked them.
The newspaper that was in John’s father’s hand fell to the ground as a look of concern came across his face. “No, John you’re not a fairy are you?”
Hamish crossed his arms over his chest. “No he is not! He is a Doctor,” Hamish told him as John’s father took a seat back in his chair. Sherlock, John and Hamish all took a seat on the couch, Hamish crawling into his Dad’s lap.
“Now, now I’m sure there’s an explanation,” John’s mother said as she went to get a drink for John and Sherlock. “It’s just for a case right Johnny? Like on those blogs?”
John gritted his teeth. “No,” he told them as he took Sherlock’s hand in his. “Sherlock and I have been married for a year and a half now. Hamish came into our lives almost seven years ago while we were dating.”
John’s father huffed as he took the glass of port from his wife. “John, you were in the army, you played rugby. There is no way you’re a poof.”
John steeled himself, “I’m not. Hal is right. I’m a doctor and an Army Captain with an honorable discharge. I have a loving husband and a genius son,” John stood up and cleared his throat. “If you can’t accept that then we will leave.”
John’s mother stopped her son from moving. “No! No, Johnny it’s been so long, years since we’ve seen you. Please stay.” She pleaded with him.
John looked at her, “Is my family welcomed?”
John’s mother paused. “Any friend of yours is welcome.” John knew that the meant, but he turned his eyes over to his son and Husband.
“We’ll talk about it,” he said as they got up from the couch and headed to the study to talk. Sherlock didn’t want to stay, but he was going to leave this up to John. It’s was his parents and his house. John sunk down into an oversized chair as Sherlock sat on the arm , placed his hand on John’s new jumper Hamish had picked out for a Christmas present. He had decided to wear it, to please Hamish. Sherlock leaned over and kissed him gently on the side of his face.
“Dad,” Hamish asked as he looked at all the books. “Why are your parents so mean? Ms. Hudson, and Aunt Sarah and Molly and Uncle Lestrade don’t care.”
John took a deep breath, closed his eyes as he placed the palm of his hands on his face and took a deep breath in. “Why don’t we stay for dinner and then drive back to London.” Sherlock suggested as he kissed John again to help him clam down. He then leaned into his ear and whispered. “I might have a few tricks up my sleeves.”
John actually began to giggle and he turned and looked at Sherlock. He knew what his ‘tricks’ were. “Okay, dinner and then we can go home and watch a Christmas movie as a family.” John stood up as all three of them left the study. As they were headed to the living room the front door opened and shrill voice rang out. “Johneeyy I’m hoooooome.” It was Harry.
And she was drunk.
John had kept Hamish away from Harry for this reason. Sure when they first got him she saw Hamish, but then things got bad in her life again and she hit the bottle that’s when John told her no more until she sobered up. He didn’t want his son to see that.
“What is wrong with Aunt Harriet?” Hamish asked as he looked at Sherlock who watched as she walked over to John and pulled him into a hug.
“She is very much drunk,” Sherlock explained to him as Harry walked over to him.
She placed a hand onto his shoulder and smiled, her long blonde hair was pulled back into a braid. “Hello brother in law,” she told him slurring a bit. She made her way to where her mother was standing in shock.
She seemed to be on one train of thought, “You knew Harriet? Why didn’t you tell us?” her mother asked.
Harry shrugged drunkenly. “Because it’s John’s decision? Because it went so well for the first child around? Because I enjoy knowing something you don’t? Take your pick,” she leaned in close to John. “See, this is why I drink before these little get together’s.”
“Maybe you should try that Dad,” Hamish told John as he took a seat on the couch. Sherlock sat next to him as John helped his sister to a chair and went to get her a glass of water. John wanted to crawl into a hole and not come out, but he was happy when his mother left the subject alone and headed into the kitchen to check on dinner.
John’s father set his empty glass down on the side table and looked at his grandson. “So, Hamish, what did you want Father Christmas to bring you for Christmas?”
Hamish pushed up his glasses and looked at his grandfather. “Father Christmas isn’t real,” he informed him. “I heard Papa and Dad talking about it the other night when I was in my room. But I told them that I wanted a dog.”
“What kind of dog?”
“Either a Border Collie or a Yellow Labrador. But Dad says that they might be too big for our flat, so now I want a Yorkshire Terrier,” Hamish told him. His grandfather looked shocked at the information he knew about dogs.
“What would you name him?” he asked.
“Gladstone of course.” Hamish said looking at him as if he had just asked a stupid question.
“That’s not a name for a dog,” his grandfather told him. John rolled his eyes as he handed Harry a glass of water, he walked over and sat down next to his son.
“Why would you say a think like that?” Hamish asked him. “It’s a very suitable name for a dog.”
John’s mother emerged from the kitchen to let them know that dinner was ready and they would be eating in the dining room. John picked up Hamish as he stretched his arms out like an aeroplane as he ran into the dining room. His son’s giggles filling up the rooms of the home. Sitting Hamish down John sat next to him and Sherlock took a seat on the other side. Harry stole the chair next to Sherlock so he didn’t have the wrath of his mother. John’s mother sat across from her son as John’s father sat at the head of the table.
“Johnny why don’t you bless the dinner,” his mother told him.
“No,” he said as he picked up his wine glass and took a sip.
“John.”
“No mother,” he told her. “You can pray if you want, but I am not. So this row can go on or we can end now.” John’s mother said nothing as she looked over at her Husband. Hamish looked at his Dad as everyone bowed their heads and closed their eyes. Sherlock took his hand; placing it on John’s knee he gave it three squeezes. After the prayer was said John put food on the plate for Hamish that he could eat with his gluten allergy. After getting his food, John put some food on Sherlock’s plate and then his own.
“So, Sherlock,” John’s mother said as she cut a piece of the turkey to eat it. “What do you do for a living?”
Sherlock grimaced at the horrible stuff that was presented to him as food on his plate. Looking up at John’s mother he tried not to have the same look of disgust as he talked to her. “I’m still a Consulting Detective, if you have been reading your sons blog you would have already know that.” He looks at John Do I have to eat this he asks him with a look.
Eat the bread John told him as he put a fork full of lettuce into his mouth.
“Oh, does that pay a lot?” she asked him.
“What people deem to give, I receive, I don’t charge them,” explained Sherlock as he moved the food around on his plate.
“So,” John’s father said as he set down his wine glass. “You are basically lazy and are mooching off my son.”
“Dad!” John huffed. “If anything, Sherlock brings in more money than me, especially when he has high profile cases. No body mooches.”
Sherlock smiled and looked at John, “It’s really okay, I feel your father wants to know for himself, his private practice has gone under and he has taken to drinking and the occasional smoke. He has lost a lot of money for he gambles, bad habit to have,” Sherlock told him. “Horses, you can tell by his shirt, he has been a few of the clubs and there is a stain on his shirt from where they spilt a special wine they serve and it’s only there and it’s on your shirt you are wearing now. Your mother wants to pretend it’s not happening but he needs to find work, or ask you for money.” Sherlock smiled as he took a sip of his water.
“Excuse me?!” John’s father yelled.
Harry covered her mouth so not to spit out her water as she laughed. Hamish looked down at his plate so not to be rude, even John figured that letting Sherlock loose on his parents would make this evening a little less horrible. Sherlock turned and looked at John’s mother. “Oh and Mrs. Watson,” he said. He got the look in his eyes.
John had seen this only once in his life, and it was when Sherlock shut down Mycroft to the point of him admitting Sherlock was correct. John cleared his throat and got ready for a fast exit. “You know you pass judgment on your son when you yourself are no saint. You turn you head to your husbands issued while you, yourself have been taking medication. But, no they are no prescribed for you. You are shaking now because you need your fix. Another nasty habit you should fix.” Sherlock told her.
“Mr. Holmes,” she hissed throwing her napkin onto the table. “I won’t tolerate you talking to me like that in my house.”
John turned to his mother, “Really?! And you got on my about taking medication for my shoulder?”
“Johnny,” she said looking at him. “That is not the point.”
John laughed as he stood up from the table, setting his napkin on his plate of uneaten food. “You,” he stopped as he composed himself. “You are a hypocrite and for once, god why I thought this I must have been high,” John laughed. “I thought that we could have a bloody civil dinner. But were going home. Now.” John explained as he pulled out Hamish’s chair. His son got down and headed to the front to get his coat and shoes back on. “So I do hope you enjoyed seeing your grandson for this will never happen again, we can stick to email the less personal I feel the better it is for our family.”
Sherlock stood up and followed John to the foyer. They said nothing as Hamish sat on the floor and put on his boots. John handed Sherlock their son’s coat as he pulled out Sherlock’s and his. His mother came running into the foyer to try and stop them. John slipped his coat on and buttoned it up, he then checked Hamish’s bag that everything he needed was in there. His father handed them a bag of their gifts that they had gotten them. Sherlock took them for he knew John would feel bad if he left them there.
“It was a pleasure to meet you Mr. and Mrs. Watson,” Sherlock told them as he looked down at the gift. All of which would be thrown away or given away.
“Dad,” Hamish asked looking at John as he buttoned up his coat. “Can we get Chinese for dinner when we get home?”
“If Papa agrees that it’s fine with me,” John said kissing the top of his son’s head as he buttoned up his own coat.
Sherlock looked at John and then to his parents. He took John’s hand and pulled him close. John placed his hands on Sherlock’s hips as their lips pressed up against each other. Sherlock moved his hand and cupped John’s arse and gave it a squeeze. These actions neither of them engaged in while they were in public but Sherlock felt that he needed to leave the Watson house with a bang. As he pulled away John blushed as Hamish took the present bag and his own bag. Sherlock took his husbands hand as they headed out the front door and back into the snow. Sherlock unlocked the boot of the car to put their stuff in. Hamish crawled into the car and into his booster seat as John stopped Sherlock. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a cigarette. “Happy Christmas,” he said kissing him on the lips as he handed him a lighter and took the keys to warm the car up while he had a quick smoke.
While John’s parents stood there in amazement, Harry looked out the window, her lips formed into a smile as she watched her brother, happier than she had ever seen him even when he just had a horrible evening. “Good job Johnny boy,” she said to him.
The ride home was quite. It wasn’t until they got onto the M3. John turned and looked at his son as his gaze was fixed on the passing cars. “So Hamish, what do you think of your grandparents?”
Hamish turned and looked at his dad. “We don’t have to visit them again do we?” he asked. “They were very rude to you and Papa.”
“Nope,” John answered with a smile as he turned back to look out the front of the car. Hamish’s gave went back out the window at the passing cars.
“John,” Sherlock said as he turned and looked at him.
“Yes Sherlock.”
“What are we going to do when we meet my parents?”
Hamish looked at the rear view mirror; his deep blue eyes grew wide. “There is more?”
John smiled as he took Sherlock’s hand. “Maybe Harry was right for once.” Sherlock looked at John from the corner of his eye. “Maybe we should go to their house buzzed.”