overthemoon

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Title: Our Warped Timelapse of Love (Or Something Like It)
Author: overthemoon
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Pairings: John/Sherlock
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Genre: Angst, Pre-Reichenbach, Post Reichenbach, Friends to Lovers, Pining
Length: 16:20

Summary: Out of context, the memory snippets never make sense. It’s only when they’re strung together that the pieces can form the whole of who we are. - SH

Highlights of their relationship.

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Pre/Post music - Carry On My Wayward Son (Instrumental) -Kansas

Hamish Goes to Hogwarts - Platform Nine and Three-Quarters

John coughed as the train station’s smell of smoke and steam filled his lungs.  “Hamish?”  His son wandered through the crowd in a worrying Sherlock-like manner, lunging into and out of the mass of people every few seconds.  Sherlock squeezed John’s elbow reassuringly.

“Hamish will be fine.  He’s not stupid; he’ll be able to find us if he gets lost.”  John nodded, continuing to push the luggage cart.  The letter hasn’t said anything about how to enter the platform, but if Sherlock could deduce how to get into Diagon Alley, he could probably deduce how to make it onto Platform 9 & ¾.  A tiny knot of anxiety tumbled around in his stomach that refused to vanish, but John kept his eyes on Sherlock as the detective scanned their surroundings.

Hamish surged out of the crowd to circle the luggage cart again.  “Dad!  Isn’t this exciting?”  Hamish beamed at them, grinning from ear to ear.  “There’s magic right in front of my nose, but I can’t see it!  Can Father see it?”

John eyed Sherlock.  Sherlock smiled at Hamish, smirking.  “Sherlock?”  John asked.  “Any day now.”

“The barrier,” Sherlock said.  Sherlock ran at the barrier between platforms nine and ten.  Hamish trotted after Sherlock, shorter legs leaving Hamish lagging in the shadow of “that bloody coat”.  John hurried to keep up. When Sherlock collided into the barrier he would need stitches and they would be late and possibly Hamish would miss his train and -

Sherlock vanished into the barrier.

“Bloody Wizards,” John grumbled, and chased after his husband and son.

The sensation of going through the barrier was like going through a warm curtain of water and John emerged unhurt, pushing the luggage trolley, onto Platform 9  & ¾.

“You -”  John shook his head at Sherlock.  "I have no idea how you figured out but that was insane!  You could have been badly hurt!“

Sherlock smiled and walked over to John.  "And you love it,” he whispered in John’s ear.  “You’re my doctor;  you’ll fix me.”   John glared at Sherlock, who refused to acknowledge John’s stare.  

“Dad!  Father!  That was fun, can we do it again?”  Hamish grinned at both of them.  "How did you find out?“  John heard the station bell tolling the hour.  

"Hamish, you’d better get on your train now or you’ll miss it.”  Hamish nodded, the happiness falling off his face.

“You’ll miss me, won’t you?”  Hamish’s shoulders dropped and his eyebrows knitted together in concern.  His eyes darted back and forth between John’s face and Sherlock’s face, watching their facial expressions.

“Every day,”  John promised.   "We’ll write to you when we can.“  Sherlock nodded in agreement and patted Hamish on the shoulder.

Hamish lunged forward to hug John tight.  "I love you,”  Hamish said.  John held Hamish, unsure of what to say.  "I’ll see you for Christmas?“

Sherlock rubbed his hand between Hamish’s shoulder blades in an attempt to be reassuring.  "Yes, and if your insufferable fat uncle Mycroft has anything to say about it, we’ll be seeing him too.”

“Okay.” Hamish giggled.  

John didn’t want to let his son go.  Not off into this strange new world that John didn’t know or understand.  "He’s just a boy,“ he wanted to say.  "He’s still so young.  It was only yesterday that we were bringing him home for the first time.”

The train whistled sharply and they automatically looked up.  

“I have to go now,” Hamish said.  John wanted to do something, anything to wipe the sad smile off of Hamish’s face, but he couldn’t.  Instead, John and Sherlock nodded, and help Hamish carry his luggage onto the train.  They watched as his small black head disappeared among all the other children who are leaning out the window to wave goodbye to their parents.

Sherlock came up behind John to use him as a chin rest.  "Oi, get off you berk.“  John sighed as Sherlock wrapped his arms around John in a poorly executed hug.  John leaned back into his consulting detective’s body and they both waved at the train as it began to pull out of the station.  

“Whatever happens, Hamish will get through,” Sherlock promised.  “He is your son, after all.”

((Author’s Note:  I do plan on switching to Hamish’s POV for the rest of the fic.  I don’t know how well that’s going to work out, but this is the end of John’s POV.  Hope you like it.))

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Hamish Goes to Hogwarts: Doing the Shopping Doesn't Get Any Easier

Flourish and Blotts, declared the sign on the bookstore.  Serving the Wizarding Community since the invention of the printing press.  The store was stuffed, with parents and children spilling in and out of the doors, weaving their way around high stacks and shelves of books.  John stared at the list of book titles on Hamish’s supply list.  The foreign titles made something as simple as buying new books for Hamish, which he and Sherlock had done for normal school, became something unfamiliar and alien.

John took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and grabbed Hamish’s hand firmly.  “Come on,” he said, following Sherlock, who was already picking his way through the milling crowd of robed people.  “You’ve got your supply list with you, right?”  Hamish squeezed John’s hand in affirmation.  Together they entered the bookstore, pushing their way past a group of chattering redheads to find themselves in the textbook selection.  Helpful sparkling signs pointed them towards a shelf under a sign in red and gold, “for first year students.”

“What’s the first book on your list, Hamish?”  John asked.

Hamish began to recite from the list, reaching for the books himself.  The ones Hamish couldn’t reach, John got for him.

“Okay, I think we’ve got them all,” Hamish said.  He looked around the bookstore eagerly.  “Dad, isn’t this place amazing?”

“Yeah, yeah, it looks great,” said John.  He scans the section they’re in.  “Hang on, where’s your Father?”

“Father said something about looking at other stores,” Hamish said.  John frowned.  

“Really?  When?”

“When we were outside.  Can we go exploring in the rest of the store please?”  Hamish smiled at John.  “I’m sure Father can’t get into too much trouble.”

Sherlock apparently took the opportunity to reappear by John right elbow.  “John, this place is hateful.  I can’t get any sort of signal and my mobile’s going haywire.”  John can’t help but smile at his consulting detective’s flustered facial expression.  Sherlock’s fingers keep agitatedly tapping on the keys as the phone’s screen displays a gray fuzzy static.

“You’re just mad you can’t figure out how to deduce anyone,” John replies.  “Being in a wizarding world and all that.”  John frowned as a thought occurred to him.  He looked at Hamish, then at Sherlock.  “Do they use the same kind of money?”

Sherlock shook his head and tucked the phone away.  “No, but I’ve already gotten that taken care off.”  He handed John a small bag of heavy coins.  “I went to get the money changed at the bank down the street.”  Sherlock’s eyes lit up.  “They have goblins in charge of the money, John!  Rather creative way of protecting their currency.  Apparently it’s relatively foolproof as only less than ten individuals have managed to break into their vaults in several hundred years and I wonder how they did it.”  John stared at Sherlock.  “John, we’ve got to go look at it sometime.”  John shook his head.

“Sherlock, we are not visiting magical crime scenes.  And I’m sure that it’s not relevant anymore, anyway.”

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