[gallery]

johnlockluvhusbandsforever:

watsonsdick:

AU - Parentlock

Post Reichenbach

"Who do you love the most?"

Mads Mikkelsen as Sebastian Moran

Hamish didn’t want to pick. He loved them both, he really did.

His Father, who gave him his smarts- who stayed up with him when his mind was too loud, who completed experiments with him, who helped him make decisions and deductions, who gave him his sense of style, who taught him how to play violin. A man who tried incessantly hard to love and care for him when it obviously wasn’t his forte. He had gotten used to Father’s way of praise, which usually went around words such as “You’re not an idiot” and “Amazing, Fantastic” (which he knew that Dad had influenced)- and learned to read just what exactly his Father was saying. How his words of love where conveyed. How he loved by action, and not just by words like "those idiots" would do. How he was always there, always ready to go storming in when the school was giving him trouble. When the other kids were giving him trouble. The one who, within his means, spoiled him. The one who understood when Dad did not, who let him express himself "they are idiots” without calling him off on it. The one, who, despite everything, was direct (though Dad didn’t understand it) and would often leave little clues to him and Dad about what he wanted. The one who got him his first smartphone: the one who he loved dearly.

Or his Dad, who gave him his caring- who taught him how to cook, how to deal with his Father when he had mood swings, who educated him in social rules, who helped him attend school when he was bullied, who taught him how to type, who taught him first aid, from whom he inherited a love of tea, who taught him that toughness that he had, who doted on him with words of praise. The disciplinarian, certainly, but was always fair about it and had endless patience where Father did not. He was more direct about everything: he answered questions that Father had no patience or did not know of, who chided Father when he said "those idiots" and he reined in his Father when he jumped off without saying anything. He would be the one that intimidated his principal: with his cold smile, and his quiet, but demanding influence. He would know what his Father was trying to say when no one else did. The one who decided that if he was getting a smartphone, he damn well was getting a laptop and that was that: the one he loved dearly.

He couldn’t decide. Life without the other would only bring immense pain.

Life without his Father, without experiments or violin duets and concertos. Without makeshift stages, without performing with him to their private audience. Without limbs and experiments in the house, without constant curiosity and learning. Without his roundabout praise, without the clothes (because Dad just didn’t get style). Seeing his Dad unbearably sad, in a gray world. Without adventure and excitement, without that smirk or they way he picked him up. Without small touches to his hands, without the mood swings and the shooting at the wall. The part who understood about his lack of social awareness, about his love of texting. The one who understood a good half of him.

Or, without his Dad, who understood the other half: the wanting to be social, the caring and direct loving, the balanced life that his Dad gave him: without the food that he made, without the jokes and the smart-arsery, the one who helped him through with the emotions. Seeing his Father retreat into himself as he would lose all sense of balance, without family and their unit would seem so incomplete. Without the typing or the sweaters, or the laundry. Without kisses to his head, and guidance on how to best talk to his Father when he wanted something or was upset. Without an enormous emotional support and without the leverage on keeping the counselor (who he hated to talk to) away… The one who understood the other half. 

No more games of Cluedo, as a member would be missing.

No more lively cases, with the funny back-and-forth.

A great deal of love lost, because without one… His life would be incomplete. Along with whoever lived.

No more Mrs. Hudson coming up and taking care of him when they were “busy” as they never would be again.

No more smiling or laughing as they would be miserable.

Because how could you choose when each was irreplaceable? Where there was only one in the world?

"It can’t be that difficult to pick, is it?" 

"Kill me." His Dad’s voice was heard first, his eyes glassy. 

Sherlock gritted through the pain, and mumbled, “No, unacceptable.” But only Hamish could hear it.

"Sherlock…" He heard his Dad say. "You need to take care of Hamish."

"NO. I already said no. Not without you John, not again." Father managed to defy Dad even though it cost him a great deal.

"Sherlock.. You can do it, okay? Last time it was you to die to protect me, and now I’m going to repay the favor." His Dad was scared, Hamish could tell. But he continued on anyway, though it looked like his heart was about to break. "Your Dad’s a soldier, Hamish. He’ll do anything for us- anything at all."

"No, John. I do not accept your repayment. You promised. You promised to stay with me, with us." "I promise to stay with you both, above and beyond death. Always. We’ll always be together. You and You, Hamish, and Me… Against the World." He knew that Father, despite his state, was trying to find an answer, a way out. Father needed them both, he had said so. His father was the great Sherlock Holmes. They would get out of this. They had to.

"Hamish, please take good care of your Father. Sometime’s he’s a prat, but he loves you." Here, his Dad looked into the eyes of his Father. "I love you both. Very much." He was closing his eyes now, as if resigning to his fate. No. Please, you can’t give up, Dad. You can’t. I need you. 

"Touching, Dr. Watson. Really, absolutely moving. But you see, little Hamish has to pick. He has to be the one.” Moran said, his sadistic smirk making its way to his face, and looking at Hamish. 

"Hamish-

"QUIET, Dr. Watson." The gun again hit John’s head, hard. 

John didn’t make a sound, but his Father screamed in frustration.

"Tick, tock, little Hamish. Save one, or have both killed."

Hamish hesitated.

"If you’re not going to choose, I’ll have to do the honors." He pointed the gun first to his Father, (as if planning it all along) and said, "Mr. Holmes- I believe it’s your turn first.."

"No!" His Dad screamed.

Before Hamish could open his mouth,Moran tipped forward, jolted back, and landed face first into the ground. Blood shot from his head and his chest, and Dad was quick to get a gun and dispose of the other captors, and Father was right at his side.

"New Scotland Yard! Secure the area!" Lestrade, one of both his Dad’s friends, was quick to assess the scene as his uncle Mycroft handed Lestrade a gun.

Hamish, at first, stood there- shocked at the sight of a recent dead body. Sure, he’d seen bodies at the morgue, but he’d never witnessed a murder before. But, then a thought struck him: it was okay, they were both alive. Alive! They were all alive!

Then, he ran to both of his fathers, who both secured him in a hug, despite their injuries, and each of them was crying. Hamish, because both where alive, and his Dads because they were still together. Nothing could take them away from the other. They were never going to be separated again, they had promised.

"He wasn’t going to choose, you know." Mycroft said, as Lestrade held the gun. "And you won’t have to do paperwork." (Here, he ignored Lestrade’s goofy grin.)He was observing the scene with a great deal of relief, though he didn’t show it- because he had helped his brother. Helped him preserve that of which he had built. Hamish had, again, given him a chance to become a better elder brother. 

"He’s a bright lad, yeah? Those clues were top notch." Lestrade answered. "But My, you weren’t going to let Moran hurt your brother."

Mycroft sneered. “No, not after I saw his state. Not after he threatened my brother’s family.”

And Hamish didn’t have to choose, because his uncles had saved them. And more than his Father aand his Dad cared to admt, they owed them a great deal.