Harry sat in the taxi, immersed in his own mind as it flippantly ran through the world around him. The awkward silence in the car was rather stifling but like with any other human inequity, he either ignored it or far forgotten it in his social depravity. So he sat, legs kicking out from under him, a stupid smile plastered like plastic on his young face and humming something nonsensical. All this while wondering, when was it exactly that he became what he was this day?
He wasn't speaking of the responsibilities he held but rather the point when death stopped disturbing him, when mortals became silly little children and the world around him a play pen. Harry didn't know but he often wondered if he still cared. Maybe not. There were times when his sanity was rather lacking and his mind ran away with him and he couldn't remember what he was doing here, still. It was annoying, vexing, frustrating. Brilliant, wonderful, exciting. He couldn't decide what it was, another contributing factor to what he thought was his deteriorating mind.
At the edge of his mindscape he could hear his little mortal speak to the sociopath on his right. "Where are we going?"
A good question, one he no longer asked so he tuned out the answer if the raven head was going to give a straight answer, that is. He doubted it but still. Harry continued to look out the window, watching the world pass by. He wanted to laugh at the concept, how London had changed! Even if it wasn't his London, not even his world, he still expected everything to stay still. If he had the power, he wondered if he would freeze the world in time, so they would just stay still. But, they, everything moved, whether it be running, walking, crawling, dragged themselves over shattered glass, they were still moving forward. Harry envied them at times, hated them at others, and loved them through out it all, because the world still turned, stars continued to burn, die, explode and create new life, people evolved and transformed along with society around them and Harry sat, watched them, never moving, never changing.
His body shook and Harry wanted to groan, what was wrong with it now? It had been so long since he had to worry about the complexities of health and the well beings of well, anything. Life was not his domain, not anymore. Looking up, green eyes clashed against worried blue.
"Are you alright Hamish? We're here." His John asked gently, always afraid to upset.
It endeared the man to Harry but at the same time annoyed him, he had no idea why. Emotion, at times took him by surprise, it had been too long since he had to use them. He had been alone for a long time. It was annoying, really, not really, it was fantastic. Another thing he couldn't decide on.
"Yay! Let's go." Harry whooped with joy, happy to run away from his thoughts.
There it was again, that worried tone that John used when afraid to upset him. He seemed to want to say something but fell silent and soon a soft smile took over his face and Harry wanted to rage at the man, to scream at him for his naivety. And then there was that small part in him that wanted to run to the former militant and bury his face in those ugly and warm, so warm, jumpers he favored and let John take care of him like the child he looked like, like the child he never got to be. But he couldn't, he wouldn't allow it all to become a thing for Harry, it was Hamish's and so he simply smiled back and hopped out of the car.
Only then did he notice the silent man watching the two, his sharp blue eyes narrowed in on him, watching his face with eyes of a man that could see. Harry paused and held in a grimace because he knew that one Sherlock Holmes had seen the raging, depressive and loving, churning thoughts and quick flying emotions of someone who didn't exist. And in his eyes, Harry swore there was a flash of pity. He had no doubt that he confused the normally unchallenged man, that despite seeing the emotions flying across his face too quick to properly register, he didn't understand the meaning behind them. So Harry took a small leway and shot the dark haired man a bitter sweet smile filled with his powerful need and longing for something even he didn't know, watching at blue hawk like eyes widened and his body froze.
And just like that Harry disappeared and Hamish stood in his place. Happy Hamish, loving Hamish, naive and intelligent Hamish, Hamish that John loved and cared for, Hamish that would protect.
It was better that way. Skipping towards flashing lights he ignored the still stiff man, his burning eyes of curiosity and what ever other emotion he couldn't understand and the wonderfully caring eyes following his movements.
He hated that.
He loved that.
He didn't know anymore.
He didn't want to know anymore.
And he was a liar.
Sherlock watched as a dark storm crossed the boys face and oddly enough it was the most open he had seen him and though he was too proud to admit it, as with most things he immediately zeroed in on everything he could take in, in the approximately twenty-eight seconds the child- Hamish let his guard down. And what he saw disturbed him, he watched as self loathing flashed across, and small shaking pale hands curled up into balls and cut into soft flesh. He wanted to know exactly what a child could hate himself for, especially one that acted as if he was on a constant sugar.
Things didn't add up with Hamish, he showed no signs aside from these mere seconds of a war ravaged mind. Just a child who was attached to an officer, who loved being coddled an yet at times there were flashes of annoyance when John mother hen-ed and then there was an almost savage love for the man that followed where he would practically leach to the mousy blonde as if he were the mother and John were the silly little child.
Sherlock watch as rage flitted across Hamish's face when watching the world around him, followed by a tender love as his entire body relaxed, his eyes became distant and dreamy and he almost swayed where he sat. A pathetic, loving smile drifting up on his lips. And then there was envy and distaste and more amusement and love.
He watched as the army doctor shook the boy long after he himself had gotten out of the taxi, he watched as pure annoyance took over the small boys face, looking about mere seconds from groaning and wrecking the world around them. He watched as a purely plastic smile, touched his lips and it was almost like poison with the way it made him feel, the way it clearly made John feel.
He watched, his entire body leaning forward, so absorbed was he when John smiled at his ward, Hamish freezing and self hate flaring once more and then hate, most disturbingly, directed at John, then more love, so much so he swore the army man glowed and he watched as it disappeared and in it's place a fake smile again as the small form leaped out of the vehicle with all the grace only a child could have.
He watched as the boy looked at him and pure panic instilled its self on his face, leaving Sherlock with the odd urge to wince but he stayed still, like a rodent playing dead, afraid that he made a move the boy would dissappear again behind a sugar high and a singing voice. He watched, his heart freezing up into a solid block of ice that he often claimed it to be as green eyes peered into what he thought might have been his soul. Begging, they pleaded with his own and for once Sherlock didn't know what for and as if giving up on him, the pleas disappeared behind laughing green and never before had Sherlock felt so inadequate, so entirely useless.
Guys, it's been so long! I'm going around quickly updating my stories with small chapters, trying to get back into writing. I'm so sorry that has taken this long but with school and the like I'm afraid things have been so seriously busy. None the less,, I hope you enjoyed this little look into the mind of two main characters since we often get a vague Harry and Hamish with a mothering John.
Reviews and the lot are appreciated. I apologize for the wait and any mistakes made.
Thankyou for sticking around guys,