Work Text:
"Are you okay?" Molly asked, looking at John's tired form slumped over the lab desk.
"I'm alright," he replied, scrubbing a hand over his face.
"Don't let him lie to you, Molly," Sherlock said, not bothering to look up from the microscope. "He's ready to drop at any moment, I'd say."
She nodded in understanding sympathy. Sherlock and John had been to the lab nearly everyday for the past two weeks, both of them seeming as though they had more energy drained from them with every visit. Sherlock seemed more irritable than ever while poor John looked downright exhausted.
"M'fine," John mumbled sleepily.
"You're a liar," Sherlock told him as he scribbled something down on the paper next to him. "And you're a terrible one at that."
She watched as John stood up, stretching his arms around in an apparent attempt to wake himself up.
"When's the last time you had a day off?" she asked, turning to the cupboards to begin rummaging through them. She knew their lives weren't conventional, there would never be a set time of rest for either of them. She paused briefly, knowing exactly how they spent their free time. Hamish was their number one priority, and she knew that. Everyone did. "Just the two of you, I mean."
A yawn nearly overpowered John's answer. "Not since before Hamish was..." he trailed off. "Jesus, has it really been that long?"
"Yes," came Sherlock's simple answer, a hint of almost regret dancing around the edges.
Molly stopped what she was doing to observe the two of them. John and Sherlock exchanged a quick glance, one tinged with guilt. What it must be like to live in a constant flurry of chaos with no signs of stopping or even slowing down. Surely, they couldn't let it go on that way forever. Time would catch up to them eventually, and sooner than they thought if they didn't have some rest. They were stubborn, those two. Too set in their ways to ask for help until the last possible moment.
"If you want," she piped up, "if you want a night off, that is, when your case is done - I could watch Hamish for you if you'd like."
"You don't have to -"
"It's fine," she said, cutting Sherlock off. "I want to. Really, I do."
She flashed them both her winning smile, and all was settled.
"He's had dinner and he's already been changed," John told her as he and Sherlock dropped Hamish off at her flat that Friday night. "But there's more -"
"Oh for God's sake, John," Sherlock huffed, cutting him off. "She knows."
Molly paid them no attention as she grinned at Hamish, kneeling down to his level. Hamish beamed up at her, and she couldn't resist hoisting the charming toddler into her arms. She straightened herself out to stand as Sherlock and John bickered on like an old married couple. Hamish seemed completely enraptured with her. Before she knew it, he had a tight grip on a handful of hair that happened to be dangling from her side ponytail.
"No no, Hamish," came John's voice. "You mustn't do that. It's not nice."
Hamish instantly let go, but the moment John turned his back, he reached out for it again.
"Hamish," Sherlock said in an even, stern voice, capturing his attention. "Not good."
He immediately let go again, for good this time.
"There's just one more thing," John said eventually. "He's ah - he's going through a phase. He doesn't like it when we leave," he told her. "So we're going to have to sneak out while he's not paying attention. Or else -"
"Or else the end result will be comparable to armageddon," Sherlock mused.
The four of them ended up in the living room. Molly sat on her sofa with Hamish standing before her as the two of them played hand games. Slowly and silently, Sherlock slipped out through the door. John wasn't far behind, giving her a final wave as he carefully closed the door on his way out. After a few moments while Hamish became occupied by the pattern on her sofa cushions, she stood in preparation to fix herself something to drink. It was then that the view from below the window of her second-story flat caught her eye. Sherlock and John stood underneath the glowing light of the streetlamps, waiting. John had tugged Sherlock's coat lapels, bringing him down for a swift kiss that left Sherlock grinning as their taxi pulled up.
Before she could smile at the moment, a soft whimpering sound immediately got her attention. Hamish was turning around helplessly in the living room in a desperate search. His bottom lip began to tremble and tears filled his eyes as the realization must have hit him.
"Oh no," Molly said softly as she bent down and soothingly stroked his hair. "It's alright, they'll be back," she told him as he looked at her with the saddest eyes, making her heart melt. "You see, that's the good thing about parents. They always come back," she promised.
The words couldn't keep the tears from overflowing as they streamed down his cheeks, but he stood near silent, almost like a little soldier. Lovingly, she wiped them away and trailed her hands to just underneath his jaw, lightly tickling him. A smile bloomed across her face as he giggled, letting out a small sniffle before sticking out his neck, urging her to do it again.
"How about some chocolate milk?" she asked after a while. Hamish said nothing, but watched her with his face lit up as if he knew exactly what she was talking about. After digging out his sippy cup and preparing the drink for him, she came back into the living room to find Hamish sitting on the floor. Her purse was next to him, unzipped and knocked over, the contents strewn around it as Hamish fiddled with the make up he'd gotten hold of. She sat the cup down on the coffee table before kneeling next to him, naming off the items as he held each of them up in examination.
"That's lipstick," she pointed out when he held up the small black tube to her face. "It's like a crayon you put on your lips," she explained, pointing to her own mouth. He scooted closer to her, holding up the item close to her face, urging her to show him what she meant. Carefully she uncapped it and ran the pink coloring over her lips to show him. "See," she said, "that's all it is. And..." She pulled up Hamish's left hand, kissing the top of it before showing him the mark it left.
Hamish smiled at it and attempted to repeat the action. He kissed his arm, frowning when he pulled back and saw no mark.
"Here," Molly laughed as she stood and picked up up. Hoisting him up in her arms, she made her way to the mirror hanging from one of her walls. Pointing at their reflection she asked, "Do you see us? Now watch." She planted a sweet kiss on his cheek, and Hamish smiled at his reflection when she pulled away. As she sat him down, he pointed at the lipstick on the floor before grabbing it and attempting to uncap it. "No," she said softly as she took it away. "You're too little for this, I'm afraid."
Hamish shrugged it off and began filling her purse with all that he'd taken out of it. The rest of the night went off without a hitch. They had played peekaboo, spent a lot of time stacking and un-stacking sofa cushions, and had done a lot of tickling. He was even well behaved when she changed him, compliant as she wiped the lipstick from his skin. He was also more than happy to get into his pajamas, the grey and navy striped bottoms matching his dark long sleeved shirt with silver stars on the front. They were in the middle of a game of hide and seek when the laughter came to an end. Molly had crawled around behind the sofa and waited for Hamish to find her, but became worried as silence filled the room.
"Hamish?" she called out. When she stood up, a smile instantly formed when she saw what was going on.
A bundle of grey and black striped fur peeked out from under the coffee table, and Hamish sat in front of it, his eyes glued to the bundle before him.
"That's Toby," Molly told him as she walked around. The cat lifted his head at his name, exposing his fluffy white chest and flashing her his bright yellow-green eyes. Hamish seemed absolutely fascinated by the creature, carefully watching his every move. "He's a nice kitty, really. Can you say kitty?"
"Key," Hamish said in an attempt to repeat the word, his eyes still fixated on Toby.
Toby came out from his hiding place at the sound of Hamish's voice, sheepishly walking up to the toddler.
"You've got to be nice," Molly said as she sat next to him. Hamish pulled his hands close to his chest with his palms open as the cat neared him, apparently unsure of what to to. "Here," Molly motioned to him. She reached her hand out and smoothly ran it over his fur.
Slowly at first as if he were afraid, Hamish reached out, petting the cat. When he drew his hand away, the cat let out a loud meow and nuzzled against him for more attention. A grin bloomed across Hamish's face, the biggest smile Molly had ever seen him give as his eyes lit up with pure joy. Toby had no boundaries and walked back and forth right across Hamish's lap, the tip of his tail reaching up and tickling the toddler's nose. Loud purrs of a happy cat and the laughter of an enchanted child filled the room for most of the evening, and Molly found herself wishing she had recorded the whole thing.
While they were playing, she quickly went into the kitchen and returned with a container of cat treats. Toby immediately tore his attention away from Hamish at the mere sound of it, leaving the poor boy confused. "Here," she said, placing a small fish-shaped treat in Hamish's hand. "Hold it out like this." She moved his arm closer to Toby, his open palm holding out the reward. It quickly disappeared as the cat gobbled it down. Toby's pink tongue shot out, licking at Hamish's palm, causing giggles so high pitched that Molly couldn't help but laugh too.
After a few too many treats and a washing of the hands, Molly let them return to their playing. Hamish and Toby sat facing one another on the floor. Hamish would reach his hand out only to withdraw it again, and laughed as the cat repeated his action. When Hamish moved himself into a crawling position, Toby propelled himself forward with a bit too much force. What was surely meant to be a nuzzle against his head ended up knocking Hamish back on his bottom, causing him to laugh even more. Molly just shook her head, loving the entire scene that played out before her. After apparently realizing what he'd done, Toby feigned innocence by dropping to the carpet and rolling on his back. Hamish knitted his brow for a moment before doing the same, dropping and rolling around on his back, just like his new friend.
Eventually as the night wore on, Molly saw him fighting tiredness. She made up a bed on the sofa for him and he crawled in happily, falling asleep within minutes. Molly took her opportunity to change into some comfy pajama bottoms and warm top before returning to the living room, planning on curling up in her soft reclining chair for the night as she read. She knew Hamish would be alright alone, but she just felt better being in there with him. When she returned, she nearly dropped her book at what she saw, and immediately returned to her room for her phone.
Quietly, she made her way over in front of the sofa, the dim lights giving everything in the room a soft glow. Hamish was fast asleep with Toby curled up next to him, purring loudly. Hamish shifted, drawing one of his arms around the fluffy creature and nuzzling against him. Toby closed his eyes and seemed to drift off as well. Making sure that the sound was off on her phone, Molly snapped a photo of the moment. It was too sweet of an opportunity to miss. Suddenly, her phone buzzed.
How is he? SH
Molly grinned.
I thought John was the worrywart? He's perfectly fine. Asleep now. x
Good. SH
Thank you. SH
Sherlock and John showed up bright and early the next day just after they'd finished breakfast. Hamish immediately came running in to greet them both with his curls bouncing and Toby hot on his heels. John scooped Hamish up into a tight hug, the look on his and Sherlock's faces more relaxed than she could remember in recent months. When John sat Hamish back down, he immediately went back to Toby, happily petting him as if showing off his new friend to his parents.
"Of everyone on this earth, he takes to that evil cat," Sherlock mumbled.
"He's not evil. He just doesn't like you," John teased. "Hamish," he said, getting the boy's attention. "Say goodbye to Molly?"
Hamish stopped petting Toby and toddled over to her as Sherlock rummaged around the flat to gather his things. She kneeled down to his level, and Hamish pointed at her lips in search of the lipstick she had been wearing. A long ago memory popped into her mind, and she just smiled and shook her head before kissing him on the cheek. When she straightened herself out, John walked over and pulled her into a friendly hug.
"Thank you," he told her, "we needed that."
"Yes," Sherlock acknowledged from behind in agreement. "Come along, Hamish."
Hamish turned around and picked up Toby in his arms, the cat nuzzled awkwardly against his chest with his feet still touching the floor.
"No," Sherlock said, "you can't bring him with you. Toby belongs to Molly."
Hamish turned and awkwardly grasped one of Molly's fingers with his hand as he held the cat. He tried walking through the door but was stopped.
"No Hamish," John laughed, "you can't kidnap Molly, either."
Disappointment spread across his face as he let the both of them go.
"Don't worry," Molly told him, "you can come play with him again, promise."
As they were almost out the door, Hamish abruptly turned and ran back. Unexpectedly, he collided into Molly with a force, tightly hugging her legs. Molly was surprised, and ruffled a hand through his curls in acknowledgement. He looked up at her, flashing her a winning smile. She knew at that moment her heart had been stolen by a lovable baby boy and there was absolutely no chance of getting it back.
And she was perfectly alright with that.