Sherlock was not sitting on the sofa, nor was he even lying on the sofa, he was hanging upside down from it like a bat. His curls had fallen away from his head and his grey eyes were following John around the room.
John continued to ignore Sherlock as he tidied up the flat.
John still continued to ignore Sherlock; he was pretty pleased with himself considering that ignoring a 6 foot sulking consulting detective was no mean feat, especially one who had just had a tantrum and thrown most of his books around the room.
“John,” Sherlock whined, “I am actually going to die from boredom and you don’t care.”
John muffled a laugh with his jumper sleeve and turned to look at Sherlock.
“You’re not going to die from boredom- we’re leaving in three hours, Sherlock. You can keep yourself occupied for three bloody hours!”
Sherlock huffed and tried to right himself on the sofa, but instead managed to fall off backwards and hit the floor with a thud. For a second everything was silent, and then John burst into laughter as Sherlock let out a string of swear words.
“Stop laughing at me. I think I broke something.”
John crossed the lounge to examine Sherlock, and once he was satisfied that nothing was broken he continued to tidy up the flat, much to Sherlock’s chagrin.
“Three hours? John, we have to wait for three hours?”
“Yep. Look, I know you’re excited about Hal’s graduation, but we can’t go turning up whenever we feel like it. We’ve got the train to Warwick booked and there’ll be plenty of time to get to the ceremony. Be patient.”
Sherlock strode over to his violin, picked it up and started to play a lullaby he had composed when Hamish was a baby. Hal had trouble sleeping through the night, but Sherlock discovered that when he played softly to him in the muted, flickering glow from the dying fire, Hamish went straight back to sleep. John hadn’t heard Sherlock play it in years, and he found himself moved to tears. As Sherlock finished the final notes of the lullaby, John circled his arms around Sherlock’s waist from behind and pressed a kiss behind Sherlock’s ear.
“That was lovely. Thank you.”
Sherlock bowed his head and gripped John’s hands.
Finally, they had arrived in Warwick and Sherlock was eager to get straight to the university. First there would be the graduation ceremony itself, with only two guests allowed for each student, and then afterwards there was a prize giving ceremony in a local theatre which was large enough to hold thousands of people. It typically went on all night with the new graduates and their friends dancing and celebrating until the early hours of the morning.
John persuaded Sherlock to check in at the hotel first, where John immediately made himself a cup of tea and Sherlock started to get ready for the ceremony. His enthusiasm was adorable to John, who couldn’t help but watch fondly as Sherlock hung his suit up, making sure nothing was creased or out of place. Sherlock paused, and turned to look at John. John beckoned Sherlock over with his hand and Sherlock took it, pressing it against his face.
“All right?” John asked softly.
Sherlock gently tugged John down so that John was lying on his back on the bed and Sherlock was pressed up against his side with his arm across John’s chest.
“Is it normal to feel this emotional at your son’s graduation?”
“Entirely normal, Sherlock.”
Sherlock burrowed further into John’s side.
“I keep thinking back to his first day of school. He was so nervous and he looked rather silly in his uniform, but when he came home that afternoon he said he couldn’t wait to go back again the next day.”
John grinned at the memory.
“God, yeah, that uniform was a bit pretentious wasn’t it? It was the hat that did it, looked funny on a five year old. Look at him now though, graduating from university with a First in Chemistry. Takes after you, he does.”
“Maybe. But he takes after you in all the important ways. You were there when he fell over and scraped his knee and started crying. It was you he wanted when he had a nightmare.”
“And it was you he told first about Bradley! That was huge for him, Sherlock. He went to you for approval. But you know what the best thing is? That together we’re a team. Together we have raised Hamish over the past twenty one years and I wouldn’t have had it any other way. I love you.”
Sherlock leant further across John and kissed him gently.
“I love you, too.”
The Vice Chancellor called out Hamish’s name and everyone clapped as Hamish walked across the stage to shake the Chancellor’s hand and accept his scroll. Hamish was wearing his graduation gown; black with blue lining in the hood, and a black suit underneath. He looked so much like Sherlock that John’s heart clenched. Sherlock gripped John’s hand as they finished clapping and John noticed that Sherlock was crying. John squeezed Sherlock’s hand back and Sherlock smiled softly.
“That’s our boy,” John whispered.
Two hours later and Sherlock was practically dragging John through the crowds at the evening ceremony. Hamish had been presented with a departmental prize for outstanding achievement, Sherlock had cried again and John had followed suit. They had not seen Hamish for several months and Sherlock was desperate to congratulate his son and meet his new partner.
“John! There he is! That must be Bradley.”
“Take it easy, don’t overwhelm him, it’s been a big day.”
Sherlock shot John a withering glance.
“I know, John. I’m not stupid. Come on!”
Sherlock all but barrelled into Hamish who grinned and threw his arms around Sherlock. John decided that fuck it, he was joining in on what looked like the hug of the century and put his arms around his husband and his son.
“Actually can’t breathe,” Hamish panted and wriggled out of his parents’ grasp. Sherlock’s expression turned serious as he took Hamish’s hand in his own.
“Hamish, I’m so proud of you. John and I are overcome with joy for everything you’ve achieved, and for your engagement.”
“Oh, fuck, yeah,” Hamish whirled around and grabbed a smartly dressed blonde haired man in a sharp, black suit. “Can’t forget Bradley now can we! Bradley, these are my parents, Sherlock Holmes and Doctor John Watson.”
Bradley smiled nervously and shook Sherlock and John’s hands in turn, as John protested- “Call me John, please, none of that Doctor Watson stuff.”
“Dad, Father, this is my fiancé, Bradley James.”
Sherlock fished around in his jacket pocket and triumphantly pulled out his phone.
“This calls for a photo!”
Hamish and John groaned, for they knew that once Sherlock got into photo taking mode he acted like a paparazzi all night, buzzing around photographing everything almost obsessively.
“One of Hamish and Bradley. Come on, indulge your father.”
Hamish and Bradley shuffled together, both unconsciously mirroring the other by putting their hands in their pockets and Sherlock grinned, taking the photo.
John swooped in and plucked Sherlock’s phone from his hands, placing it in his own pocket.
“I’m confiscating this and rationing it out to you, Sherlock. One photo an hour, you hear me?” John was visibly amused, his face relaxed and a smile playing on his lips. Sherlock swooped in and kissed his husband and deftly pocketed his own phone. John wouldn’t notice for a while yet, and Sherlock grinned against John’s lips.
“Right, well, we’ll leave you two lovebirds alone for a bit. Bradley and I are going dancing!” Hamish laughed as Bradley looked outraged.
“We are, are we?!”
“Yeah, Brad, we are. Come on, you can’t be worse than my dad at dancing.”
John let out a half-hearted protest as Hamish and Bradley retreated to the dance floor, but Sherlock claimed his mouth once again.
“Oi, Sherlock, there are other people here too, you know. And they are staring. At us.”
Sherlock smiled mischievously. “Let’s give them a show then.”