Chapter One. Intro.
With Sherlock gone John was lonely. So, so lonely. It took him a year before he was finally able to go out and enjoy himself again, even a little bit. He tried dating again a few months later but that had... it hadn't worked out. Part way through the year, by some weird twist of fate, adoption paper work caught his eye at the clinic. He filled them out and in a few months he had his son. Hamish Holmes-Watson. The name was a bit of a tribute... Hamish was an intelligent toddler, inky black hair and bright blue eyes. John had fallen in love at first sight and he'd finally started to live again.

He hadn't forgotten Sherlock but he didn't cry now like he used to. He kept Sherlock out of his six year-old son's life. There was no reason for Hamish to know when he was so young. Maybe when he was older John would tell him the stories of him and Sherlock's adventures, and of how much he'd loved the man.

It was now a Sunday now, about six in the morning When Hamish had woken, whining slightly at the persistent knock at the door. He waited a bit, figuring his Daddy would get it. When the knocking continued Hamish sighed, getting out of bed. He rubbed his eyes as he shuffled out of his room. He stood up on his tippy-toes, opening the door. He was a bit short for his age," Hello...?" He asked, peaking his head around the door and looked up at the tall man standing outside their flat.

The tall man, didn't expect a child to open the door. He looked down, surprised, and said

"Oh, hi.". It was 221b right? Of course it was, he thought to himself. The tall man looked inside the flat. A black coat with a patch on the left shoulder was thrown over the couch. He also noticed the chess-game standing on the coffetable. The person who played as black where winning.

"Um, sorry to bother you at this time of the day, but is John Watson by any chance home?"

Hamish noticed how the man was looking around the flat. He glanced back, wondering he'd be looking at. He saw the chess board, him and his father had been playing a game last night. Hamish had been so close to winning but it was late so he had been told to go to bed... "It's alright." He mumbled, yawning slightly," He's asleep. Want me to get him?" Hamish was a little reluctant to though. His father had been working nights and was probably very tired.

"Yes please. You can tell him it's an old friend asking for him."
The tall man corrected his dark-blue scarf as he watched Hamish stand in front of him, sleepy and small. He looked slightly annoyed at him, for waking him up, but he didn't mind because people always looked at him like that.

Except for John.
He came back from his thoughts when after 5 seconds, Hamish nodded and walked out to get his father.

Hamish watched him for moment before relenting and going to John's room. Which was actually Sherlock's old one, unknown to Hamish. He reached up opening the door and going inside the room quietly. He moved over the bed and crawled up, sitting by his father's head.
"Daddy..." he whispered, nudging his shoulder slightly," Dad, wake up.." he said a little louder. John grumbled a bit and opened an eye to look up at Hamish," 'Mish, what are you doing up? It's early..."
"Someone's here to see you. 'An old friend'..." Hamish explained, feeling guilty about waking John up. John smiled softly and reached up to stroke fingers threw Hamish's hair.
"Alright, you can go back to sleep here, while I go see who it is?" John said, sitting up. Hamish immediately curled up in John's warm spot on the bed. John pulled a blanket over him and got up, walking out into the flat," Hello? You do know it's early, correct? You woke my son up." He said, walking to the door and opening it fully.

Chapter Two. Him.
John stopped completely when he saw who it was standing in front of him. His whole body just, stopped. Everything. His brain. His legs... Even though John's face looked as cold as a stone, he was frightened by the sight of that man, who he never thought he would ever see again.

"John..." Sherlock said, but he didn't get to say more before John was squeezing him in a hug, a hug wanted for so long. Deep buried in Sherlock's scarf, he could hear John sobbing, with tears of mixed emotions.

Sherlock didn't hesitate with hugging John back. They stood there, for longer than any of them ever would have imagined hugging each other.

John had moved and hugged him before he could even register what he was doing. His whole body was shaking and he clutched the back of Sherlock's coat like his life depended on it. Tears started pouring down his cheeks, and then he was sobbing into Sherlock's scarf. He didn't want to move, he couldn't pull back away from him.
"S-Sherlock... "He breathed, not quite believing that this was really happening. It shouldn't have been possible but Sherlock really was here. John wanted to ask how and why, but he couldn't form words. Every time he tried another sob escaped from his throat.

Sherlock had missed John so much. A tear fell down Sherlock's cheek, and with a shivering voice he said: "I missed you so, so much John. And I won't ever leave you again, if you don't want me to." They were still hugging.

"Of course I don't want you to leave!" He cried, holding him tighter. John would never let Sherlock leave if he had the choice," Sherlock… Why..?" He asked voice weak," Why would you ever...?"

I thought you might be angry with me." Sherlock said. "Are you angry with me?"

"Of course I'm angry with you! Because you're not explaining anything. You were dead and now you just show up!" John took a few deep, shaky breaths, "Explain Sherlock, please."

"John, some things I cannot explain to you. And I would have come to you sooner. But I was…" Sherlock took a pause, and closed his eyes as he said it. "I was too damn scared, John." He said, sounding a little frustrated, like John was pushing him out on the edge by asking him to explain. "And I care very much about you John. Almost too much."

"I love you." he blurted out, not even trying to stop himself. John knew that everything needed to be out in the open, right here and right now. He held Sherlock tighter, not wanting him to go," I just…need to know why you didn't come for me for help... if something happened with Moriarty..." He bit his lip, not liking to say the name.

"I would rather not put you in danger John. And I did my best to keep you safe. Please forgive me"
As he said that, he backed out a little bit, letting them look in to each other's eyes, only inches away from his face. He waited for an answer. "Of course I'm going to forgive you..." He took a shaky breath, looking in Sherlock's eyes... Suddenly Sherlock could see Hamish standing behind John, rubbing his one eye with his fist.
"I couldn't fall asleep again…" he said, watching his dad hugging the tall man.

John heard Hamish and turned around. He wiped his eyes and reluctantly moving away from Sherlock. "Is that so?" he moved, picking Hamish up in his arms," Are you hungry then?" He asked
Hamish shook his head and rested his head against John's shoulder and looked at Sherlock curiously. He didn't know who this man was, why he was making his father cry or why they had been hugging. He was too sleepy to press questions right now.

Just before John was about to walk in to the room that had belonged to Sherlock with Hamish, Sherlock asked "John, would you mind if I stayed here for the night? I can sleep on the couch. " . Sherlock of course knew that John was sleeping in his old room.

John bit his lip," I would like you to stay longer than for the night but... for now I'm going to go to bed with Hamish and... We'll talk more when we wake up alright?" John promised. At the moment he really did need to sleep. He had a headache from crying and he felt like his whole world was sort of crashing in on him.

"Of course John. Sleep well." Sherlock said, leaning in, kissing Johns forehead. Sherlock smiled, and began to take his coat off.

John smiled softly and nodded, moving back into the bedroom and settled him and Hamish down to sleep again. He figured he's having a rough time sleeping now though.

Chapter Three. Flush together.

John had almost had a heart attack when he'd woken up the next morning and saw Sherlock on the couch. He figured it had all been a dream, but apparently it hadn't been. He moved around the flat, getting Hamish ready and going through his morning like any other. John took Hamish to school, and was now on his way home.

Sherlock was up early. He sat up, resting his arms on his thighs. He rubbed his eyes, and stood up. He looked at his wristwatch. 8.39 am. John was probably dropping Hamish of at school. Sherlock wasn't hungry, but out of pure curiosity he looked inside the fridge. No head. No thumbs. He didn't know what he had expected. There were only vegetables, milk and some meat. Ordinary things.

John was nervous.

He stood outside of the door for about 10 minutes before finally letting himself go back inside.

Suddenly Sherlock could hear the door open, and then close. John was home.

He saw Sherlock at the fridge," Are you hungry?" He asked.

"Oh, no. I just looked. I guess it's just one of those things you do when you want time to pass."

." I'm glad your home. "Sherlock answered, as he turned around. He smiled at John.

John smiled slightly and nodded," Alright... just making sure. I don't mind cooking. "He said walking into the kitchen.

"John..." Sherlock said with an intense and deep voice. He walked over in front of John, standing so close that he could hear him breathing. "John, I love you too." Sherlock placed his left hand on John's hip, and the right on his cheek. He looked deep into his eyes.

"Y-Yeah?" John asked shakily, watching him walk close. He took a deep breath and nodded, John leaned into the touch on his cheek. His eyes wouldn't leave Sherlock's for the second.

"Oh, John. Without you... I..." Sherlock couldn't say anything else before he couldn't fight it anymore.
He kissed him.

And as much as John wanted to hear what Sherlock had to say, the kissing was definitely better. His hands moved up, fingers threading themselves in the detective's hair and pulling him in closer, so their bodies were flush together.

Sherlock was so overwhelmed by John's eagerness that he walked over to the fridge, letting John follow him, as they kissed. John pushed him back up against the fridge. Sherlock stood with his back against the fridge. He let a little bit of tongue slip in. John gasped, his own tongue tangling with Sherlock's. He let his hand glide from John's hip, to his back, where he put his hand up his shirt. John shuddered at the touch of skin.

Suddenly Sherlock stopped.
"John, before we go any further I think we need to talk."

John bit his lip and nodded "You're right..." He blushed slightly and moved back a step.

Chapter Four. An hour.

"John, who is that boy?" Sherlock asked. It was quite weird, to open the door, expecting someone your age, but seeing a six-year old.

John smiled softly "That's Hamish... my son." He could see the confusion on Sherlock's face "Adopted son."

Sherlock's facial expressions changed immediately from turned on to surprised. A 10 second pause, and Sherlock finally said something. "Oh… Your son... He seems nice. How old is he?"

"He's six" John smiled, amused by Sherlock's surprised expression, "He's a really good boy. Brilliant..."

"John, I don't mean to pry or anything, but would it be possible if I could stay with you two?". Sherlock already knew the answer, but he wanted to clear things out and to be certain.

John smiled softly, stroking his cheek. "Do you even need to ask?"

"I suppose not." Sherlock lifted his hand up on Johns, and closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the warmth of his hand. John was so loyal and caring. The sweetest man he knew.

The rest of the time they had alone, they spent with each other. John had kept his violin, so he played some music for John.

John had made tea for them both as he listened to the music he'd missed so much. He bit his lip, wanting to say more. He felt like things still needed to be said "Hamish... he um... may be a little hesitant to accept you here at first. He's shy..."

Sherlock stopped playing. He looked at John instead of looking out of the window like he always did when he played the violin. "I don't think that will be a problem." His voice turned a bit unpleasant, almost like if he was talking to Anderson.

John frowned a bit, raising an eyebrow "I'm just making sure you know... I think he'll like you and you him. He's smart, your kind of smart."

"My kind of smart?" Sherlock frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?" He smiled, hoping it was a compliment.

John smiled softly " Brilliant, fantastic, ridiculously so... just like you. That chess game?" He motioned to the board " He's beating me, he's beat Lestrade, he beat Mycroft. Who was not pleased."

Sherlock grinned a bit. "Heh... I bet he wasn't. But he probably won't beat me. That's my old chess board you now. I've been playing since I was six years old."

"I bet he'll take that challenge "John laughed" Well he's six now... if he can't beat you now, in a few years maybe."

Sherlock changed the subject. "When are you supposed to pick him up after school?"

John glances at the clock "An hour" He said, "He's a grade ahead in school. They're thinking about advancing him another."

"That must be tough. "Even though Sherlock wasn't the "big feeler", he tried to have a little compassion for the kid. He had a rough time in school as well.

John nodded "He doesn't have many friends… and being in an older grade is always difficult, especially since he's shy. He does well though and doesn't seem troubled."

"His education is important." Sherlock packed the violin down its case. "Yes it is" John shrugged
"In that hour we have, what do you want to do?" Sherlock asked.

"You're the one who's back, you choose" John said.

"Let's have dinner." Sherlock answered.

"Yes, I'm feeling hungry too actually..." John trailed off and his eyes widened in realization," Do... Do you mean dinner like food? Or dinner like...?"

'"Oh John you pervert! Food. I mean food.For once in my life, I'm actually starving." Sherlock smiled at John. He walked over in front of John, and kissed him on his forehead. "Silly you."

John chuckled, blushing, "You can't blame me! I heard that innuendo at least forty times that year… Would you like to go out or should I make something?" He asked standing up.

"Let's go out. We can pick Hamish up on the way home. Where do you want to go? A lot of restaurants or café owners owe me, so it can be just about anywhere." Sherlock walked over to put his coat on as he talked.

John didn't mean to be sentimental but he could only think of one place, "Angelo's sounds nice..." he said, putting his coat and shoes on.

Sherlock stopped right before he was about to put his scarf on, looking at John. A smile slowly formed on his lips. He continued to put it on.
"Angelo's it is then. Let's go."

Chapter Five. Blocked call.

They went down the stairs. John gave Sherlock a soft kiss before they went outside. He hailed a taxi and they both got inside.

When they arrived, they both got out of the taxi at the same time. They walked up to the front door of Angelo's and Sherlock opened the door for John.

John smiled at him and stepped inside. He went and sat at their normal table.

Sherlock followed him. They both ordered a meal. When they had finished they were about to go pick up Hamish, when John got a call from a blocked number. He answered it.

John found it weird and answered his phone," Hello?" There was silence," excuse me? Who's this?" he asked.

"Dad? Dad!" Someone shouted.
It was Hamish.

"Hamish? Sweetheart, what's the matter? I'm just coming to get you now." John said.

"No dad, don't." Hamish answered.
"John, where is he?" Sherlock asked.

"What do you mean? You're at school right? It's time for me to pick you up."

"Dad. This guy named, I don't know, Morty or something, is not letting me go. We are on the top of a building. Bart-something hospital. I ask him stuff but he only answered those questions. He keeps asking for Sherlock. Dad, who's that? Please come quick dad."

John's hands shook as he held the phone " I'll be there soon, okay Hamish? I love you, just wait for me." When the call ended John ran from the restaurant, pulling Sherlock behind himself. "Moriarty has Hamish... You come back and Moriarty kidnaps my son! What the hell is going on Sherlock!?" he demands as he hails a cab.

"John, I... Never mind, let's just go get him."
The cab arrives and they both get in fast.
After a little while they arrive at Bart hospital.

John pays the fare and runs from the cab. He goes into the hospital and sprints up the stairs to the roof.

Sherlock, was right behind John the whole time. But when John tries to open the door, it won't. It's locked with an electrical lock. It needs a password.

Chapter Six. Gun.

John turned to Sherlock "Open it, please" He begs.

Sherlock immediately tried when he saw it.
"I'm trying."
It was a 4-letter code.
Sherlock tried anything he could think of. But nothing worked. On the top right corner on the door, a speaker was set up. Sherlock quickly figured out, that after trying a number of times on the password, the speaker would release a message. He tried 8 times, and then the speaker was starting to give sound.
"John, Sherlock. How nice to see you again. Well…I'm not exactly seeing you, but you get the point. Anyway, my computer tells me you've made some guesses, Sherlock. They are pretty dull. John. Dead. Fall...And so on…"

John bit his lip and tried to think. Four letters, four letters... nothing at all came to mind. John hadn't had panic attacks for a long time but he was about to have one now. Moriarty had his son on the other side of the door and it wasn't just like he was going to give him back...

"What do you want Moriarty!?" Sherlock shouted.

"Wow, wow take it easy. No rush." Moriarty answered. "There is a fucking rush!" John grunted, then he froze. He continued: "Now, who of you wants to take his place?"

Silence between John and Sherlock.

John's first instinct was "take me". The other was that he needed to be there for Hamish, and as much as he loved Sherlock, his son was more important. "Why can't you just leave us alone!?" John demanded.

Sherlock looked at John. "John, I'll go. It's my fault that he took Hamish. And for that I am truly sorry."

John looked at him with wide, pleading eyes" I just got you back..."

Sherlock hugged John.
"I-I love you" Sherlock stuttered.

John hugged him tightly, squeezing his eyes shut " I love you please... just... come back"

"I'll be dead, John. I won't come back."
Sherlock looked John in his eyes. Then he turned against the door. "How would I... do it?" He shouted out to Moriarty.
Moriarty answered: "Behind the speaker, a syringe is attached to the wall. Use it. I'll promise it'll be painless."

As Sherlock got the information, he did as he was told. He folded up his sleeve on his left arm. He was shaking.

"No" John breathed, reaching out and grabbing Sherlock's wrist "Please no... We'll for anything Moriarty but not this! He'll stop chasing you, I swear! "

Sherlock pulled his arm back.

"No he's not, John. I'm going to do this. For Hamish, and for you. Don't you see why it's the right thing to do?"

"I... I do know..." He bit his lip before surging forward to kiss him quickly " I'm sorry, God Sherlock... I love you so much..."

"Love... Love? LOVE! OF COURSE!" Sherlock shouted.

He dropped the syringe on the floor, and typed in the letters.
L-O-V-E
Correct. The door opened.

John's eyes widened and he grinned in delight "Sherlock! Oh thank God!" He grabbed Sherlock's hand and ran onto the roof with him.

Moriarty stood on the edge of the roof, with an arm wrapped around Hamish.
"Stay. Right. There" Moriarty said calmly. He pulled a gun out of his jacket, with his other hand. He pointed it at John.

"Hamish!" John called, stopping immediately when he saw the gun. The one time he didn't have his on him... He saw how scared his son looked and swallowed nervously," It's okay, 'Mish, it's going to be okay sweetheart..."

Sherlock took a little step forward.

"Moriarty, why are you are you doing this?" He said with a calm voice.
Moriarty looked like a mess. He was wearing a loose tie, his jacket was unbuttoned, and his hair was messier than usual.
" You thought you'd beaten me. You thought you won. I WAS DEAD, AND YOU LIVED. But not this time. Oh no. Not this…"
Sherlock pulled out his gun.
"Give me Hamish." Sherlock said.

John's eyes were wide," No one had to die... you've won! We're begging! Just... please."
Hamish whimpered slightly, trying to wiggle out of the man's arms.

"THIS IS A GAME, JOHN." Moriarty shouted. "AND NOT ONE I'M WILLING TO LOSE".

And as he said that, he shot Hamish in his arm.

Chapter seven. Hospital.

"Ouch..." Hamish said as he woke up. Bandages. "Where... Where am I?"
"In the hospital. Your father is asleep. He has been sitting up all night waiting for you to wake up." Sherlock answered.

Hamish's head swiveled around and he let out a sigh of relief to see his father sleeping, snoring softly in a hospital chair. Hamish took a shaky breath and nodded," R-Right... what...w-what happened to that man?" He asked, eyes wide and face paled in fright. He reached a hand up to touch the bandages on his arm.

"Well... When he had shot you, you fainted and then you fell to the floor. And... I shot Moriarty, so that he fell off the roof. He is definitely dead now. No more tricks from him." Sherlock said calmly. He tried not to talk too loud, so that he wouldn't wake up John.

Hamish took a relieved breath and nodded," T-Thank you..." He stammered. He looked relieved but at the same time still scared. He'd been so worried that the man would have shot his dad...

"You are welcome." Sherlock replied. "No worries."

Sherlock stood up. "Is there anything you need? Anything you'd like?"

"Just some water… Maybe... and some explanation?" He asked, completely curious as to why things went crazy as soon as Sherlock came back. He seemed nice enough...

Sherlock went over to the sink across the room, and filled a plastic cup, with water. "Moriarty is my nemesis. My arch enemy. And a long time ago, he tried to kill me. He wanted to tear me down piece by piece. And for a while, I had to leave Joh... Your father." He walked back to Hamish with the cup. He continued: "Your father and I have missed each other a lot, and that is also why your dad was a little sentimental the other night. The reason why Moriarty took you, is because he wanted to hurt the things I loved. By taking you away from your father."

Hamish took the glass, taking a drink as he listened intently to Sherlock, "That makes sense. Thank you for explaining... " Then it hit him and he looked at Sherlock, eyes wide," You love my Dad?"

"Yes I do. Very much."

Hamish sipped at his water and after a minute nodded," You'll be living with us then?"

"Yes. Are you okay with that?"

"As long as my Dad's happy, I'm happy... if you promise I won't get kidnapped again..."

"I'll give you my word."