Chapter 8

~John Hamish Watson
When John walked into the hospital his hands were trembling and he held his cane firmly, it was his rock.
Mycroft and Lestrade walked behind the army doctor, as they proceeded their way to the reception desk, to ask where Hamish' room is.
"Hamish Watson-Holmes please..." John said, swallowing the lump in his throat away.
"Sorry sir, the visiting time is over. You have to come back later today."
"I am his dad, he needs me. They've only found him this morning."
"Sorry sir, I can't allow you to go and see your son."
"Excuse me, I am Mycroft Holmes." Mycroft said, the woman just looked at him; not understanding the point.
Mycroft leaned in closer to the lady and whispered something in her ear, suddenly she started blushing, with a startled look on her face.
"It's okay mister Watson, very sorry. Your son is in room 221."
John looked like he was punched in his stomach, looking pale of a sudden and tears where in his eyes.
All the memories he had shared with Sherlock in their beloved 221B Bakerstreet...
He even proposed to him there... How could he forgett that number?

~Flashback

"Sherlock I am home!" John yelled, the consulting dedective wasn't in the livingroom.
"I"ll be right there!" he heard a voice coming from upstairs, John wondered what he was even doing there.
The army doctor sat himself in his favourite arm chair and picked up the paper that was on the coffeetable near to Sherlock's armchair.
He got through it quite quickly and there wasn't any news that Sherlock would like anyway, John had learned how to look for things that interested Sherlock.
Normally when the articles included things like: suspicious, presumably or mystery it was his kind of job.
And otherwise it wasn't, easy as.
John looked up when he heard a familiar cough and when he did he saw that the dedective was dressed up.
Not that Sherlock ever looked sloppy, but there was something different about him.
Something had changed... And then John noticed it; he wore a tie!
It was the first time that John saw him wearing a tie, but he liked what he saw.
Though it wasn't much of a change, it raised Sherlock's level of class a whole lot.
"Don't stare John." Sherlock said, with that velvety voice of his.
"Oh yeah, sorry." John said, coughing nervously.
"It's okay John, don't apalogize."
"Why are you dressed up?"
"Some special occasion is coming up John." Sherlock said solemnly.
"Oh okay." John coughed again and he sratched behind his ear, something about Sherlock's manners made him nervous.
"Mrs Hudson!" Sherlock yelled all of a sudden.
"Jesus, could you warn me beforehand before you decide to imitate a leaving steamer." John said, with a smile on his face.
"Yes dear." Mrs Hudson said when she arrived up, smiling widely at both Sherlock and John.
"Is everything ready Mrs Hudson?"
"Yes it is Sherlock, it is all in the kitchen, good luck boys." she said and without an explanation she left again.
"What's that all about Sherlock?"
"Oh nothing, but let's go to the kitchen shall we?"
John nodded confused and followed his partner into the kitchen.
When he saw what happened there his jaw dropped; the table was covered and full of prepared food and there were no scary or messy experiments in the kitchen anymore, it was all so clean and neat.
"Do you like it John?"
"Yeah very much so." the doctor said, leaning in to give the dedective a kiss.
Sherlock smiled at the doctor and took a seat, so that John would do the same.
"What's all this about Sherlock?" John asked, the dedective was still smiling like a fool.
"I've got to ask you something John."
"What?"
"You remember our little talk we had about adopting Molly's child?"
John remembered the conversation like it was yesterday though it was three months ago, Molly found out that she fell pregnant from a stupid one night stand and Sherlock had asked John if he wanted to adopt the baby, John had said yes. But ever since he said yes Sherlock never said anything about the subject again.
"Yes of course I do." John said, he was preparing himself for a dissapointment.
"Molly agreed." John jumped of his chair to hug Sherlock, but the dedective didn't move.
"But..." Sherlock continued, John went back to his chair; dissapointed.
"I don't want my 'partner' to be the father, I don't think that you are -seeing that you're just my boyfriend- capable of being a father, sorry."
John's jaw dropped; he had trouble breathing and wasn't even able to answer him, his heart was broken.
He wanted to scream and yell; but he couldn't even whisper something, let alone yell.
"What are you saying?" he finally managed to say something after a few minutes, his hands were shaking.
"I am trying to say that I want you to be my this..."
The dedective got down on one knee and looked up to John, with a ring in his hands.
"Dear John Hamish Watson, my dear army doctor, my dear blogger.
I know I once told you that heroes didn't exist; I was wrong.
Though I haven't changed my mind about the fact that I am not a hero, because I am not.
But you are one John, you managed to go on without me after the fall and even more important and admirable is that you managed to love me again after I made you believe that I was dead for more than three years.
I want to thank you for all the times you were by my side, for all the times you were there for me; even without words.
I don't understand how you're able to love me; but I am sure that I love you.
So my dearest John, will you do me the honor of becoming my husband?
'Till death does us part."
"Yes..." it wasn't much more than a tiny breath of air; John barely opened his mouth.
But Sherlock had understood the answer very clearly; he embraced his soon to be husband and kissed him intensly.
6 months later; their son was born...