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The boys beamed as their legs were bound together with a skipping rope. Ever since they’d learnt that there would be a three legged race they had been determined to do it together.Their teacher had tried to explain that the point of the race was to get to know people who you didn’t normally play with.

“Why would I want to do that?”
“Other people are boring.”

To the teachers credit, she had tried to up hold this ruling, telling herself it didn’t matter how influential the parents were, she needed discipline in her class room. This was of course before Alex had given her a remarkably cold look for on so young and told her,

“Daddy doesn’t like it when people don’t let me do what I want.”

The poor teacher had wondered which one was daddy, before deciding it didn’t matter as she never wanted to get on the wrong side of either of those men.

Not to be out done (and as if any more persuasion was needed) Hamish had added,

“And I’m sure people - especially the headmasters wife - wouldn’t be to happy to find out how you got your job.”

( This was something Sherlock had said once, and John had made him promise never to repeat, but Hamish felt it was okay to say it now)

The teacher sensibly relented, telling herself that it was wrong to hate any of her pupils, let alone be scared of them. And so they ran together, and won - Hamish told himself that this was because they were better than everyone else, and not because Alex had tripped that girl when no one was looking - and both spent their separate journeys home gloating about it, further confirming John and Sebastian’s belief that swollen egos must be hereditary.

 

John and Sebastian get on quite well. In alternative circumstances they could have even been friends but as it is they meet at these rare school events and discuss their times in the army and the idiosyncrasies of their respective partners.

"I found a hand in a jam jar the other day, the jar still had jam in it, I almost put some on Hamish’s toast."
“You think that’s bad, this morning Alex asked if shrunken heads were real things, Jim said he’d get him one, I’m dreading his next birthday.”

They’ll laugh and make sympathetic noises while each secretly wondering how someone could put up with that.

Of course, there are some things they can’t even pretend to agree with each other about.

Jim and Sherlock are glaring at each other from across the start line. Sherlock has his coat collar turned up against the wind and Jim looks hilariously uncomfortable in a pair of jeans and one of Sebastian’s jumpers. The other runners are mostly women, young second wives and even younger Au Pairs.

They’re signaled to start, one lap around the immaculately mown playing field, first one to return to the start is the winner. Sebastian had thought that Jim wouldn’t be too bothered, but the dangerous glint in his eye tells him otherwise.

Soon Jim and Sherlock are far ahead of the other runners (this isn’t surprising, seeing as most of them were wearing stupidly high heels and look like they’d much rather be anywhere but here).

"Come on Sherlock, beat the skinny Irish bastard."

Sebastian rolled his eyes as John looked over and quickly added,

"Oh sorry."
"No worries. If you don’t beat that twat Jim, you’re sleeping on the sofa."

The end is too close to call, they cross the finish simultaneously and is declared a draw. Jim is fuming and will.not be placated by Sebastian telling him that unlike horse races, school sports days didn’t have access to photo finish technology.

"Well they bloody should the amount of money we give them."

Sebastian sighs, deciding it’s probably best to go home nods goodbye to John, taking Jim by the hand and leading him away before he can make too much of a scene.

“I’m not going!”
“Sherlock, you have to, Hamish asked specifically.”
“I don’t see why you can’t just go.”
“Because I told him we’d both you.”

John let out a slight sigh of exaspration. Thinking, not for the first time, that it felt like he was rasing two children instead of one.

“Please Sherlock.”

Sherlock glared at him

“What’s the appeal of a school sports day anyway?”
“They’re fun.”
“No, they’re dull. Boring and pointless.”
“For the children Sherlock, not for us.”

Sherlock pouted and once again reminded John of a petulanr child, after a moments silence he spoke again.

“Well I’m not going if he’s going.”
“Of course he’s going, apparently his sons is as persuasive as ours.”

Sherlock’s glare deepened

“How do you know that?”

John muttered something inaudiable, embaressed at the knowlege he shouldn’t really have. Sherlock fixed his steely gaze on him and John squirmed.

“Well, I got a call from…”

He was saved from having to explain further by Hamish, who came bounding into the room with that unnatural energy only posessed by small children.

“Dad-dy!”

He clutched at Sherlock’s leg

“Please come daddy.”
“Well I’m not sure that’s the best idea.”

 Hamish pouted

“Alex’s papa and daddy are going. Do you know why his daddy is going.”

“Because he’s criminally insain.”

Sherlock muttered this under his breath, but it still ernt him the worst look Hamish could muster and a quick elbow in the rib’s from John.

“No. His daddy’s going because his daddy loves him. Alex says that you can’t love me if you’re not going to sports day and that is cruel.”

Hamish lowered his gaze, then looked up at Sherlock from under his thick eyelashes.

“But you do love me don’t you daddy, and so you must come.”

Sherlock couldn’t help smiling

“Okay, I’ll come, if only to get both of you off my case.”

He ruffled the beeming Hamish’s hair and gave John a quick peck on the cheek before walking into the kitchen to start dinner.

It wasn’t until later that night, when Hamish was tucked up in bed and Sherlock and John were curled on the sofa that Sherlock asked

“So, how did you know Moriarty would be there”

John shiffted slightly uncomfortably, knowing it would be easier just to tell Sherlock now than let him find out himself.

“I got a call from Sebast- Moran, saying he’d be there.”

He looked down as Sherlock shot him a look of disgust at the first name familiarity.

“Why was he calling you?

Sherlock was genuinly perplexed.

“He thought he’d warn me. Neither of us want a repeat of last year.”

Sherlock had the good grace to look sheepish, but couldn’t resist adding.

“Well he started it.”

John looked at him reprochfully.

“You’re both grown up with Children, would it be too much to hope for that you could act with more muturity than your seven year old son. Hamish was mortified, he threthened to move in with Mycroft.”

Sherlock moved to lean his head on John’s shoulder, looking up it to his face.

“I’m sorry.”
“I know, but you’re on your best behaviour this year okay.”

“A parents race?”

Jim examined the sticky letter with Disgust. Alex had thrust it into his coat pocket earlier that evening before rushing off to tell Sebastian about what he’d learnt that day in history (“Archduke franz… something, got shot in the head, it started a war. Have you started a war by shooting anyone Papa?”) .

“You’ll have to do it Tiger, I couldn’t possibly run in Armani.”

Sebastian didn’t even bother looking up from the article he was reading.

“S’not in my job description.”

An age old excuse he used every time Jim asked him to do something he didn’t want to.

“We’re married now you pratt, your job description was null and void years ago darling.”

Jim sidled over to sit next to Sebastian, pulling the newspaper from his hands and placing a hand on his thigh.

“Fine, it wasn’t in my wedding vows then.”

He smiled slightly as Jim pouted, having no choice but to except the validity of his point.

“When we renew our vows you’ll regret saying that.”

Jim’s eyes glinted, Sebastian chose to ignore him.

“Besides, think how good it would feel if you beat Holmes.”
“When I beat Holmes Tiger, when.”
“What ever you say Jim.”

Sebastian grinned, taking Jim by the hand and leading him to the bedroom, turning off the light as they passed.

“Now, you must be quiet, we can’t wake Alex.”

Parentlock head cannon time. I like to think that Sherlock and Moriarty are forced to interact. Being so similar it make sense that they chose to send their children to the same school (the best in London obviously) and therefore meet far more often than they’d like at school events and the like. When you’re a grown up you have to put up with things (and people) you don’t like, it’s a social convention and though Jim and Sherlock don’t quite understand this they have John and Sebastian to tell them when they’re being unreasonable. I also like to think that John and Sebastian get on, it’s nice to have someone who understands what it’s like to have a husband that’s rather insane. With this in mind I wrote a few parentlock drabbles about a sports day that I’ll be queueing, they’re not that brilliant, but I like the general idea.