”Why didn’t you tell us you found someone! This is wonderful news!” John exclaimed with great pride. Even Sherlock couldn’t help but crack just the tiniest of smiles.
”So, man or woman?”
John sighed. “I want to know so I don’t buy the wrong kind of gifts.”
“It’s ah… Well, a man,” Hamish said, fidgeting in his chair uneasily. This didn’t go unnoticed by Sherlock, of course, who silently catelogued the strange behavior. “But you don’t need to buy him anything for Christmas. He… He’s not exactly that sort. Who likes gifts.” Soon after the conversation drifted to other things, but only after Hamish promised to bring his newly found mate to Sussex to visit with his parents for the holiday.
That evening, Hamish was back in 221B, pacing the floor in a panic as his brother sat working on an article for some travel magazine. “Sit down, you’re distracting me,” he said, peering up from behind his computer.
Hamish sat in his chair and bounced his knee. He tapped his hand on the arm of the seat impatiently. “What am I going to do, Ange? I can’t take him to meet father. Dad, fine, okay. He may see reason. But father?! He’d kill him!”
”No he won’t.”
”Oh yes he will.”
“Really,” Angelo said, leaning back in his chair and peering at the screen to check for mistakes. “He won’t. Why don’t you just go down to the basement and, I dunno, conduct an experament on those thumbs you’ve been collecting.”
”Come with us,” Hamish pleaded. “You’re father’s favorite. He’d never attempt anything with you there.”
Angelo sighed, turning to look pointedly at his brother. “I can’t. I’ve got this thing in Rome. Remember, the Vatican’s Christmas thing.” He tried his best to give his big brother a reassuring smile. “Trust me, it’ll be fine. You could firecall Harriet. I think she and Rowan might have some time off.”
”They’re aurors. They never have time off,” Hamish said, waving a hand and dismissing the idea. “I’ll just have to… Ah. I’ll find a case! One so convoluted there’s absolutely no way I could have it solved by Christmas!”
Suddenly the door downstairs slammed. Angelo leaned forward again to close his computer and pack his things up. “That’s my cue,” he said. “Sounds like he had a terrible time of it today.”
Feet stomped up the stairs before the gruff looking man appeared in the doorway of 221B. “I swear,” said the dark haired angry Irishman. “If one more blasted copper tells one more bloody dumb irish joke I’ll set the entire Scotland Yard on fire! I’ll feckin burn ‘em all!”
Angelo gave him a sympathetic smile as he reached up and loosed his tie. “Hey Seamus…”
Angry brown eyes turned to the youngest Holmes and he managed to get a small smile on his face. “Sorry. It’s just… they’re all so damn…”
“I know. Just try to keep your temper in check. After all, it wouldn’t be any good for a DI to be heard plotting arson against his fellow officers, now would it?”
Hamish snickered. “Not like they would be able to sort out who did it. Since uncle retired they can’t seem to get anything right without us.”
“Damn straight,” Seamus muttered as he passed into the kitchen, still grumbling about his terrible day at work.
Hamish had tried to suffocate himself in cases. Seamus had even helped by bringing him the most difficult ones he could find. But alas, he was unable to escape a few days worth visit to Sussex.
And of course since both Sherlock and John now knew he’d found a mate, he was obligated to bring Seamus with him.
“I don’t see why you’re so worried,” the DI said, patting Hamish on the knee when they’d pulled up in the driveway. “I mean, you met my folks and it really wasn’t all that bad.”
”I met your folks because they hired me to find your sister.”
“Which you did. And damn fast, too. Now, let’s get this over with so we can get back to London.” Seamus grinned, giving Hamish another pat on the knee before pulling the keys from the ignition and climbing out of the car. He went around back to get their luggage while Hamish climbed out, nervous as a kitten. Every possible variable to this situation was crossing his mind a mile a minute. He knew he may be able to talk John around… But his father. Oh… no. No. No. No.
”C’mon then, ya beanpole. Go say hello. I’ll just get these outta the boot,” Seamus called from the back of the car. Hamish nodded, adjusted his coat and walked up the stone path to the door.
He had just raised his hand to knock when the heavy wooden door was pulled open and the gray haired doctor had pulled him into a hug. “Hamish!” John exclaimed happily before turning his head to shout back into the cottage. “I told you he’d make it!”
The shorter man tried to peer around, looking for his son’s muggle mate, but Hamish kept moving to block him. “Well, where is he then?”
”Dad,” Hamish said, putting a hand on each of his shoulders. “There’s something you need to know.”
”You’re not pregnant already are you?” he asked in shock.
”No no. Nothing like that. It’s just… Seamus, he’s ah…”
”Oh, his name is Seamus. That’s a good name. Your grandparents went to school with a boy named Seamus.”
”Yes, I know but-“
”Oy! Hal! I think I dropped one of your books. Can ya give me a hand?”
By this time Sherlock, curious to know what was taking John so long at the door had appeared behind his husband. Being taller than both John and Hamish, he was able to easily see past them both. He squinted as he pulled a pair of half-moon spectacles from his breast pocket and slipped them on.
He frowned. Then looked to Hamish, who was trying his best not to panic. “Father, I can explain.”
By now, Seamus had managed to reach the front door and was smiling from ear to ear, not understanding why his boyfriend taller parent was frowning at him and the shorter one was looking at him in disbelief.
But, Hamish had told him to be nice. Not to show his temper. And his mum had always taught him to respect his elders and mind his manners. So, he set down their bags and offered his hand. “Hi,” he said cheerfully.
”Eh… Hi,” John said, taking the hand hessitantly. “You’re-“
”Seamus Murtagh,” he said happily. Hamish was uneasy as Seamus looked up at him. “Oh, I got that book. Thanks for not helping.”
Hamish, trying to break the ice and the tension rubbed his hands together. “So, how about a nice drink then? I could kill for a proper cup of tea. Angelo sends his love from the Vatican. Now then, tea. Kitchen this way? Yes. Lets.” He turned to pick up as much of the luggage as he could carry and hurried inside, Seamus right behind him.
Sherlock eyed them suspiciously. “Murtagh,” he said darkly as John shut the door.
”He seems… nice enough.”
”I need to talk to Mycroft.”
”Sherlock, no. You’re not going to have our son’s first and probably only boyfriend dissapear. You know how hard it is for you Nymphae to actually find a mate. It could be another sixty years before he gets to-“
Sherlock cast his husband a glare and a dark edge to his voice. “Do you know what name Murtagh is a variation of, John?”
John sighed. “No, but I’m sure you’ll tell me.”
”Moriarty.” With that, Sherlock stalked through the cottage, bypassing the kitchen entirely and locking himself in his study. John was left staring after him, his mind turning over this information only to be interrupted by laughter from the kitchen and the irishman’s voice calling out to him. “Mr. Holmes, John, sir, where do ya keep the sugar?”
There was actual research done for this drabble. OMG.
Seamus is an Irish variation of James.
Murtagh is an actual Irish variation of Moriarty.
Hamish’s boyfriend/mate is, in fact, from THE Moriarty family. But he doesn’t know it. And he looks a lot like Jim, in fact. Because Jim was his father (dun dun dun!) but he never knew his parents. He was adopted by a very nice N. Irish family who brought him up to be nice, kind and considerate (even if he does have a bit of a temper…) This would also make Seamus older than Sherlock and John’s twins. But Hamish doesn’t care.
Seamus is actually a really great muggle. In fact, he’s a Detective Inspector. He can’t help it if his daddy was a psychopath and his mummy was a crazy dark witch nymphae hellbent on marrying then killing John.