What Lies Beneath

Small hands reached up and clawed desperately at my arm in the middle of the night; I jolted awake, barely stifling a scream as I desperately tried to adjust my eyes in the dark. I could vaguely see the outline oh Hamish’s little form as he relentlessly tried to get up onto John’s bed.

Untangling myself from the sheets, I leaned down and pulled Hamish up onto the bed and onto my lap. John gave muffled grunt as he rolled over, still fast asleep. As I held Hamish to me, I realized he was shaking; I leaned my face down to his and whispered softly,

“Hammy? Are you alright?”

Hamish shook his head; for half a second I couldn’t figure out why he was being so silent. But when Hamish leaned his face into my chest and I felt tears against my skin, immediately I realized what was happening. My poor weasel was too terrified to speak.

“John,” I urged quietly, panic gripping at me as I shook the lifeless lump next to me. He gave a grumble but didn’t stir. I turned my attention back to Hamish for a moment as he buried his face deeper into my hair.

“Hamish what’s happened? Are you hurt?”

He managed to shake his head, but his small hands reached up and wrapped around my neck as he shifted closer. Abandoning my efforts at waking John, I wrapped both of my own arms around his small body and placed my lips to his temple.

“You’re okay, little weasel. I’ve got you. Did you have a bad dream?”

“N-n-n-no,” he barely manged, snifling as he continued to cry. I brushed his curls back from his face as I rocked him gently back and forth.

“Did you hear a scary noise?” I pressed, my unease beginning to lessen as time went on. Hamish had bad dreams all the time; maybe he’d woken so suddenly he didn’t remember it was a dream. Hamish shook his head; I kept my secure hold on him, stroking his back as I asked quietly,

“What’s got my weasel so scared, hm?”

For his response, Hamish lifted a trembling hand and slowly pointed past my arm; I glanced to the side, confused, wondering if maybe the shadows from the street lamps had startled him-

There was a man in the doorway.

A tall, broad-shouldered man with large arms and a shadowed face. He stood sideways, half his body in the room, half his body at the top of the stairs. I sucked in a sharp breath and scrambled back, up against John’s arm.

The man stood very still, his face angled towards the bed as I reached out and shook John so forcefully I nearly knocked him off the bed. He slowly started to sit up, blinking sluggishly.

“There’s a man in our room,” I hissed frantically, my voice breaking as I continued to back up against him. John shot up, his head popping over my shoulder. The man moved swiftly, but not enough to avoid giving himself away more.

John was up out of the bed in an instant, ripping the gun from the bedside table and taking off down the stairs. There were loud bangs as the two of them reached the flat; John let out a shout, and then a gunshot went off. Hamish began to cry harder into my chest as I scrambled off the bed, awkwardly holding him to me.

“Hammy, stay here,” I begged, prying the sobbing boy from my arms as I sat him on the bed; if John was hurt, the man could easily take him out and then head up for us. I had to beat him to the attack. “You do not move until daddy or I come up here, okay?”

Hamish nodded as he cried; I quickly wrapped a blanket around him and then grabbed up the bedside lamp, threw the shade aside, and crept down the stairs. A door slammed, and I could hear Mrs. Hudson and her husband shouting from the first floor. I reached the bottom of the stairs, pausing behind the wall and bracing myself to find John lying in a puddle of blood and the intruder standing over him, gun drawn and ready for me.

I whipped around the corner, and when a figure reached out for me I swung the lamp on instinct as hard as I could.

John barely ducked in time, reaching up to remove the lamp from my grasp as I went to blindly swing again. He tossed it to the couch and grabbed both my arms firmly to hold me still.

“Laicee, it’s me,” he said quickly. “It’s John. I’m fine, it’s okay, it’s just me.”

“Bleedin’ Christ,” I panted, slumping against the wall of the stairwell as I began to shake from adrenaline. “Did you shoot him?”

“No, went just past him as he ran down the stairs,” John sighed, still not releasing my hands. “I didn’t recognize him, he’s a new face-“

John’s words cut off as Mrs. Hudson flurried up the stairs, a bat in one hand, the phone in the other.

“What’s happened?” she demanded, looking around as wildly as I had. “I’ve got Lestrade on the way and Mycroft on hold-“

“It’s fine, we’re fine,” John and I hurriedly assured; I pulled from his grasp to move forward and pull her into a hug. John tucked his gun into his pajama bottoms and took the stairs two at a time to retrieve Hamish.

“Who was John shooting at?” she asked, pulling back and worriedly patting my face as she checked for injury.

“Someone broke in,” I explained, moving us to the couch before the both of us collapsed from adrenaline. “Hamish came and warned us, and John chased him out of the flat.”

“Oh dear,” Mrs. Hudson fretted, her warm face pulling into an anxious frown. “It’s getting worse, it is. Those men coming after you. It’s just not safe- oh, I forgot about Mycroft,” she murmured, more to herself than me. She got to her feet, shuffling off towards the kitchen with the phone as John reappeared in the flat with Hamish clinging desperately to him.

I got up instantly, circling the couch to wrap my arms around both Hamish and John. My little weasel buried his face in my hair again, his small hand latching to my shirt as John pulled me closer.

“You were very brave, Hammy,” I told him, pressing my lips to his forehead. “You were quick and saved us.”

Hamish pulled back a bit and stared up at me, his bright blue eyes shining with scared tears.

“Me?” he asked in a small, trembling voice. A smile broke out across my face.

“Completely you,” I promised. John beamed at me as we pulled apart, pushing Hamish into my arms as the living room lit up with Lestrade’s police lights.

“I’ll bring him up,” John told me, his hand lingering on my waist before he disappeared down the stairs. Hamish stayed attached to me, not even moving as Mrs. Hudson pulled us both into another hug. I slipped down the hall into Hamish’s room and grabbed his fleece blanket up, wrapping his around his still-trembling body.

As we reappeared into the hall, I found not only Lestrade, but Mycroft, Donovan, and even Anderson gathered by the couch, speaking with John. Lestrade glanced up as I came into view, and he slipped past the others to grip me in a bracing hug.

“John’s just told me,” he fretted, looking several years past his actual age. “Are you-“

“I’m fine, really,” I promised, hugging him back as we both made our way to the couch. Donovan nodded warmly at me, Anderson ignored me, and Mycroft gave a fleeting kiss on the cheek as I dropped down onto the couch. Hamish had gone even more still than before, and I glanced down as I tucked the blanket a little tighter around him.

His tears had stopped and he laid cradled on my chest, his eyes fluttering shut every now and then. When he felt my gaze on him, he glanced up and stared at me for a moment. I smiled down and brushed the curls from his forehead.

“Safe now?” he asked me in a hush voice so the others wouldn’t hear; I nodded and whispered back,

“Yes, perfectly safe.”

“Don’t leave,” he begged me as he snuggled just a bit closer. I tightened my arms around him and gave him a soft kiss on his forehead.

“I’ll be here when you wake up Hammy.”

Hamish fell asleep shortly after that, and I nearly dozed off as John spoke with the others. I vaguely remembered Lestrade and Mycroft telling me goodnight, and then I remembered Donovan telling Anderson to mind his manners as he shot off a snide remark in my direction. I closed my eyes for a moment, and when I reopened them I saw John shutting off the last light in the kitchen.

“Tired?” he mused, coming over to me and brushing my hair back from my face. I nodded into his hand, and John smiled a bit wider.

We’d been sharing a bed for nearly a week now, having completely moved Hamish into Sherlock’s old room (which he thoroughly enjoyed). We’d become each other’s constant companions- not so much dating, but more than just friends. We both needed one another and we kept it at that.

“Come on you,” he said softly, wrapping an arm around my shoulders to help me to my feet. He guided me up the stairs as I shuffled slowly upwards, careful not to jostle my weasel. We slipped into the bedroom and John shut the door, then came around to pull the covers back for me. I crawled into bed and shifted onto my side, keeping Hamish still and nestling him under even more blankets.

John crawled in on the other side and slid over to us, wrapping an arm over me and pulling his son and myself to his chest. He leaned down and I tilted my chin up, pressing my lips firmly to his. He hummed sleepily into the kiss, brushing my face lightly as we pulled apart.

“Mrs. Hudson was right,” I said softly. “Moran’s attempts are getting too close to home now.”

“I’m going by Lestrade’s in the morning, and we’re sorting out a security watch to keep us under better guard,” John promised. “This won’t be happening again. Not if I can help it.”

“John you can’t keep all the dangers away from us,” I said to him, and John chuckled quietly.

“Just watch me, Lace. I’ll do anything to keep you and Hamish safe.”

“You better,” I teased sleepily, tucking my head down onto his chest.

As John and I fell into sleep again, I couldn’t help letting my mind wander. We hadn’t recognized the man that broke in; how many times could we have passed him on the street? How many more were outside now, watching the flat, watching us? Waiting for the right time to strike?

How long would we have until Moran took his revenge?