"Quickly please, Hamish," Sherlock said impatiently, standing in the doorway to the nursery, holding Hamish's little backpack and tapping his foot.

"I coming, I coming," Hamish said, dashing over to him with a painting. "I made it for you, Daddy! It is you and Uncle Mycroft!"

"That is a lovely painting. Where are your shoes?"

Hamish ignored him and pulled a business card out of his pocket. "I haves a card for you too," he said, passing it up. "From Angus's Mummy," he said.

Sherlock looked down at the card:

Rhiannon Macarthy- Mum of Max, Sophie, and Angus.

He turned it over and read the written note on the back.

Sherlock, Angus would love to have your Hamish over for a playdate this weekend. Send us an email if you're free at odonnells643 , or give me a call. Thank you -Rhi

"She sayed she called your phone lotsa times, Daddy but you not answering."

"I was ignoring it," he sighed, sitting Hamish on the ground and shoving his little shoes onto his feet.

"Oh. What it is about?"

"Angus would like to have you over to his house to play," he said quietly, stuffing the card in his pocket and grabbing his hand. Hamish grinned and jumped up and down as they walked out onto the street.

"Yay! Daddy, what Angus's house looks like?"

"I don't know," he sighed, helping him cross the road. "Please look both ways, Hamish, you can't just step out, you'll be hit by a truck."

"I ask Mycroft 'bout Angus's house."

"Whatever you like," he said, rubbing his face.

"What's wrong, Daddy?" Hamish asked, looking up at him with a frown.

"Nothing's wrong. I'm tired. John and Mary are over, we're looking at things for the wedding."

"Oh dear," Hamish sighed.

"We need to look for your suit this afternoon, okay?"

He huffed a little and frowned. "Daddy, John sayed I can wear mine Thomas shirt."

"Well I say you have to wear a suit at least for the ceremony. If you want to wear your Thomas shirt at the party then go right ahead. Now I need to go through the order of my speech with you in case I forget on the day, so you can tell me, yes?"

Hamish cocked his head to the side. "But you won't forget, Daddy. You ahmember everything."

"I forget things when I'm... ah..."

"Frighted?" he suggested.

"No," Sherlock said instantly.

"It okay, Daddy. You can be frighted. Talking to people am not um... not your job."

"I'm not frightened. I'm merely a little worried," he huffed, unlocking the front door and helping Hamish up the stairs.

"'Lo John ah Mary!" Hamish shouted as he bounded into the living room.

John scooped him up and tickled him with a grin. "How was nursery?"

"Good," he giggled. "I did a painting of Daddy, see? It is a keeper. I put it on ah fridge."

"A keeper?" John looked at Sherlock, an eyebrow raised.

The detective shrugged. "A keeper. Something he's tried hard on. Goes on the fridge," he explained, sticking the painting up.

"John. Daddy sayed I haves to wear a suit to ah wedding," Hamish said with a deep frown.

"Well... It would be nice," John said quietly, setting Hamish back on the ground as Sherlock passed the little boy a plate of afternoon tea.

"No. You sayed I not haves to wear one. You sayed I can wear Thomas. You was lying?"

"I wasn't... I didn't..." He pressed a hand to his forehead and sighed. "You're right. That is what I said. But Daddy is in charge of that decision, okay?"

Hamish's frown deepened and he gave John an exasperated sigh. "But Daddy doesn't know 'bout these things, John," he said, sighing again.

"Hamish, eat your afternoon tea, please!" Sherlock called from the kitchen.

The little boy rolled his eyes and sat on the floor in front of the television to eat his food.

"You only have one show this afternoon, Hamish, you watched television this morning."

"I know, Daddy. I just watching Peppa Pig."

Sherlock sat in his armchair and looked at John. "Stag Night will be this Friday. Geoff will be meeting us once he finishes at work," he informed him.

"I hope you mean Greg. I don't know anyone called Geoff, Sherlock."

"Greg, that's it. Exactly. Quite right. Mrs. Hudson is going to watch Hamish."

Hamish turned around and frowned at him. "No, Daddy. I coming on ah Snack Night."

"It isn't... how many times will I have to tell you this, Hamish? It is not for children."

"You sayed it is a man party, Daddy. I like parties and I am a man."

"No you're not, you're a two-year-old."

"Yes, I am, Daddy. And I coming on ah Snack Night."

"No you're not. You're going to spend the evening at Mrs. Hudson's, then you're going to go to bed upstairs. I won't be home until late."

"Why? Ahcos of all the snacks?"

Sherlock sighed. "It's not Snack Night, Hamish. It's Stag Night. It's for before John gets married."

Hamish frowned. "No snacks?"

Sherlock shook his head. "None."

"Oh. I not want ah come, Daddy. Have a nice time."

"Hamish, please stand still so the man can measure you," Sherlock said firmly, holding onto the little boy's shoulders.

Hamish frowned. "Daddy, it am taking a very long time," he sighed.

"It needs to be right," he said gently as Hamish shifted a little and the tailor sighed. "Look, he's two years old. Can you please hurry up?"

The tailor took a few last measurements and nodded. "And it's to be identical to the best man's suit?"

"That's right. No hat though, there's no way he'll wear that."

He nodded. "They never do. So, the same as the best man's suit, no hat," he muttered, scribbling the measurements down. "Is he the ring-bearer?"

Sherlock nodded and smiled. "Yes, it's his... ah..." He frowned, unable to find the right word for what John was to Hamish. He looked up at Mary for help and she smiled.

"My fiancé is Hamish's Uncle, right, Mish?"

"Him is my John," said Hamish, pulling his shirt on back-to-front and his shoes on the wrong feet

Hamish's play date with Angus crept up on Sherlock, who had completely forgotten about it until Hamish informed him that morning. He proceeded to panic and prattle on at the small boy.

"Hamish, listen to me please. I need you to be very very good for Angus' mother. You do what she tells you, okay?" he said firmly as he got him dressed. "It will be two o'clock when I drop you off, and four o'clock when I pick you up. Be careful and nice please. Don't forget your manners."

"I know, Daddy," he sighed, rolling his eyes.

"And when Angus' mother asks you to do something, do not roll your eyes at her, okay? It's rude."

"Daddy, you am very rude to lotsa people. Why I not allowed ah be rude?"

"Because people don't like you when you're rude and I don't want people not liking you," he said softly, fixing Hamish's shirt.

"People like you, Daddy."

"Not very many people," he sighed.

"No. But special people, Daddy. John ah Mary ah Nan," he said with a shrug.

Sherlock sighed again and straightened up, starting to pack Hamish's bag. "I'm not as rude to those people."

Hamish shrugged again and then frowned when Sherlock stuffed Teddy into the backpack. "No, Daddy. I not taking him."

"What? Why not?" Sherlock asked, frowning back at him.

"Teddy is a baby toy. Woobie too. I taking Woody and Buzz and nothing else, okay?"

"A baby toy? But it's... Who told you it was a baby toy? Your mother?"

Hamish shook his head and sighed, tucking Teddy back into his bed. "No. Boys at nursery sayed Teddies and blankies am for babies."

Sherlock frowned. "Are the other boys mean to you, Hamish?"

Hamish looked up at him and shrugged. "It am okay, Daddy. I haves Angus," he said with a smile.

"But if other children are being mean to you, I need to know," he said patiently, sitting down on the bed and pulling Hamish onto his lap.

"They sometimes am mean, Daddy," he said quietly. "And I too little so if they push me, I just fall down," Hamish said, shrugging again.

Sherlock sighed and held him closer. "What mean things do they say?"

"They not let me play wif them. And they do lots of pushing and hitting."

"I'm going to talk to your teachers okay? That's not going to happen anymore. But you don't want to play with people who are mean, okay? It's better to just stay with people who will be kind to you, like Angus."

Hamish nodded and smiled up at him. "I know, Daddy. It okay. We can please go now?"

Rhiannon smiled as she pulled the door open and Hamish started to run inside before Sherlock grabbed the collar of his shirt and held him back. "You need to wait to be invited inside."

Hamish frowned and Rhiannon said, "Would you like to come inside?" with a smile.

He nodded and beamed, pushing past her and running to hug Angus. Sherlock rolled his eyes and sighed, his hands in his pockets.

"Would you like to come in too?" she asked softly, giving him a bright smile.

"Ah... I don't... He's never been to a friend's house before. I don't really... know the protocol," he managed, staring at the floor.

Rhiannon chuckled and nodded. "You can come in and have a cup of tea, or you can just drop him. Either's fine."

Sherlock furrowed his brows and nodded. "Right. I'll... go then. I have... work. Hamish? I'm going now, okay?"

The little boy looked up at him from down the hall and smiled, running back to the door to hug him. "Bye, Daddy. I be good," he said happily.

"Good boy. I'll see you later."

John pulled the front door open and frowned. "Um... is everything okay?"

Sherlock nodded and sighed. "Yes, it's fine. They didn't have any cases for me at the Yard and Hamish is at a friend's house."

"Right," John said, doing his best not to laugh. "You want to come in?"

"Well why the hell else would I be here?" he frowned, pushing past him into the kitchen. "Hamish's suit came yesterday. I've yet to be able to get him into it. He might be wearing a Thomas the Tank Engine t-shirt to your wedding after all," he told Mary with a sigh.

"Never mind, love. As long as he's there. That's all we care about," Mary said.

"He can sit at the head table, yes?" Sherlock asked, rifling through the papers spread out across the kitchen table.

"Of course. He's got the seat next to the best man," she smiled softly. "Mrs. Hudson, Greg and Molly all said they're happy to take him for a walk if he gets restless or anything. You don't need to worry about him."

"He'll be fine," he said with a small frown. "He's very well behaved."

John rolled his eyes. "We know. We're just saying, you don't need to worry."

"I'm not worried," he insisted, then, "Do you think this other child's mother will call me if something happens?"

"Nothing's going to happen, Sherlock," Mary said gently, rubbing his arm. "He's fine."

Sherlock picked Hamish up at precisely 4PM, hurrying him out of the door and into a cab.

"Did you have fun?"

"Yes, Daddy. Angus haves lotsa trains but no Daddy. Angus's Mummy sayed families are all different," he said, fidgeting in his seat.

"That's right."

"What you did today?" Hamish asked.

"I visited John and Mary. Will you try your suit on tonight for me? I need to know if it fits."

"No, thanks," he said with a smile. "I not wearing that one. It is silly."

"Hamish," he sighed, pressing a hand to his temple. "You... Don't you want to look nice and handsome at the wedding?"

"Mine Thomas shirt am handsome, Daddy. When is your man party?"

"It's tomorrow evening."

"I go to Nan's?"

"That's right. But we're not finished talking about the suit, Hamish."

"Yes we are. I not wearing it. Thank you, Daddy."

Hamish sat on his bed with his nursery backpack, shoving toys, books and for some reason, a pillow into it.

"Be good for Mrs. Hudson please."

Hamish nodded and smiled. "Yes, Daddy. You be good for John, okay?"

"Yes, fine. I'll be good. Now, you're to go to bed when Mrs. Hudson says so, alright?"

He nodded again, packing toys into his backpack. "Yep, okay."

"Hamish, you don't need to pack those things, you're only going downstairs," he frowned.

"I going to Nan's, Daddy. I need ah take things."

"Just hurry up, John and I really need to leave."

John frowned from the doorway. "Sherlock, what's with the rush? Greg can't meet us until half-eight anyway."

"We're on a schedule. Hamish, please hurry up."

The little boy gave him an exasperated sigh and rolled his eyes. "Okay okay, Daddy. I coming," he huffed, dragging his backpack behind him as he trotted down the stairs.

It was a little after eight when Mrs. Hudson decided to take Hamish up for a bath, the little boy running out of her flat and up to the staircase. He started and then frowned. "Daddy? What you are doing at home?"

Sherlock and John stirred and sat up, groaning slightly when they opened their eyes. "What? Why are you still up?"

"It am only bath time, Daddy," he said, Mrs. Hudson rolling her eyes at them.

Sherlock frowned and stood up. "Right then. Well we'll... Right," he said, stretching and heading up the stairs, followed closely by John.

Hamish frowned and followed them up. "Daddy, you not look very good. What about a drink of water?" he suggested, before Mrs. Hudson ushered him down the hall and into the bathroom.

"Never mind about them, love. They're big boys," she sighed as she started to run water into the tub and stripped him off.

"Why they am tired?"

"They've been having too much grown-up juice, I think," she said gently, sitting him in the bath.

Hamish sighed and nodded. "Kay. They seed Uncle Greg?"

"I'm not sure, love. I don't think he'd be finished at work quite yet."

He nodded again, looking up when he heard them giggling from the living room. "Silly Daddy ah John," he said quietly. "Nan, they meant ah be out. Not at my flat," he frowned.

She nodded and sighed. "I know, dear. It's alright. We'll just go to bed, they can deal with themselves. Do you have a story before bedtime?"

"Yep. Daddy reads for me. But maybe not ahday," he said thoughtfully.

"No, I'll read for you today. For something different," she smiled, washing his hair and pulling him from the water, wrapping him tightly in a towel.

Hamish giggled and rested his head on her shoulder as she carried him out of the bathroom, through the living room and up the stairs. He quite happily fell asleep after a chapter of Matilda, and slept right through the night.

Hamish woke up early the next morning and clambered out of bed, grabbing Teddy and Woobie and heading down the stairs. "Daddy?" he said, looking around the living room and the kitchen with a frown. He looked in Sherlock's room, saying, "Daddy?" again, before heading downstairs and banging on Mrs. Hudson's door. "Nan!"

Mrs. Hudson opened the door with a steaming mug of tea in her hand and curlers in her hair. "What's wrong, Hamish, love? Are you alright?"

Hamish nodded and sighed. "Where is Daddy?" he asked, his head cocked to the side.

"Is he not upstairs?"

He shook his head. "I looked anywhere. Even in hims room."

She sighed and nodded, picking him up and carrying him inside her flat. She sat him at the kitchen table and set about making some toast. "I'm sure he'll be home soon, Hamish."

"He not camed home, I think," he said, sitting Teddy on the seat beside him.

Mrs. Hudson nodded and smiled. "That's alright, love. I'm going to call Uncle Greg in a minute, okay?"

Hamish nodded. "Maybe Daddy ah John getted arrested by Uncle Greg," he said cheerfully.

"Well I hope not," she chuckled, setting his jam toast in front of him.

"Ta, Nan," he smiled and took a large bite of his toast.

Sherlock and John came home a little after nine in the morning with their tails between their legs. Sherlock went straight upstairs and John headed into Mrs. Hudson's flat, rubbing his eyes and sitting beside Hamish on the sofa. "Lo, John!"

"Shhh. Quiet mate," he said, frowning deeply and pulling Hamish onto his lap while the little boy stuck his thumb in his mouth.

"Why I have to be quiet?" he whispered loudly.

"I've got a headache."

"Oh dear. I get you a drink ah water," he said with a smile, slipping off of his lap and running into the kitchen. He climbed up onto the counter and stood up, grabbing a cup from the cupboard and carefully running some water into it. He smiled and slowly climbed back down to the floor, the water sloshing over the sides of the cup as he carefully walked back to the living room, the little cup only about a quarter full by the time he passed it to John.

"Thanks, Hame. That's really kind," he smiled, taking a sip of water.

Hamish nodded. "Daddy sayed ah be kind."

"Daddy said that huh? That's a good thing to remember, Mish."

He nodded again and crawled back up onto the sofa, cuddling into his side. "Where am Daddy?"

"He's upstairs, mate."

"Okay. You getted arrested from Uncle Greg?"

"Um... Not exactly, Hame. Are you going to see Daddy?"

Hamish thought for a moment and nodded. "Kay," he said, slipping down onto the floor and heading up the stairs. "Daddy? Daddy!" he shouted, heading into Sherlock's bedroom and climbing up onto the bed beside Sherlock. "Ah morning, Daddy," he said with a bright smile while Sherlock groaned and pulled the duvet over his head. "You need a drink ah water too, Daddy?"

Sherlock grunted and waved a hand at him.

"Kay. I get a drink ah water. Wait right here, kay, Daddy?"

He grunted again and Hamish quickly dashed off, quickly returning with a cup half-filled with water.

"Here go, Daddy," he said brightly, handing it to Sherlock, who pushed the duvet off and took a sip of water, pulling Hamish up to his chest.

"Good morning," he mumbled.

"Ah morning, Daddy. You haved a good snack night?"

He chuckled. "It was fine, for a snack night."

"You getted arrested from Uncle Greg?" he asked, a hopeful look on his face.

Sherlock smiled and kissed his forehead. "Not by Uncle Greg. But we did get arrested."

"Why?"

"For being silly," he said softly.

Hamish frowned. "Oh dear. I can get arrested for being silly? But it is fun, Daddy."

"No, it's... It's a different kind of silly. You don't need to worry, Hamish. You can be as silly as you like."

Hamish smiled and cuddled into him. "Kay good," he said happily. "You be silly too, kay, Daddy? But careful silly."

"I think I can probably manage that."