Hamish ran downstairs eagerly when he heard the knock on the door. He took a couple deep breaths before answering, not wanting to look too eager.

"Hey Alex." He grinned at the shorter, fair haired boy. Alex grinned back, before stepping inside, pressing a light kiss to Hamish's pale cheek. "Come on, we don't have to stay around here. Let's go."

"No, I'm nothing but a gentleman. I have to meet your dads." Alex said, darting around Hamish.

"That's really not-" But Alex had already disappeared. Hamish gave a huge sigh before following the blond, figuring his papa would have something terrible planned up.

Sure enough, when Hamish got upstairs, Alex was frozen on the spot, staring in horror at something his papa was doing. Hamish looked over slowly, his face reddening at what he saw.

There, right in the middle of the kitchen table, was the severed head of the old butcher from down the street. The face was contorted post mortem to look like it was in anguish.

"Papa…" Hamish groaned, smacking his hand over his face. His dark haired father looked up, a pleased smirk on his face.

"Hamish. And this must be young Alex!" His focus turned to the blond.

"Where did you get the head?" Alex asked faintly.

"I have a friend in the morgue, a Miss Molly Hooper. She gave me an entire hand last week, do you want to see?" Sherlock asked, his smile growing even wider. "I'm testing how long flesh can sustain itself with freezer burns. Unfortunately, it's not as fresh as I would like…"

Alex took a horrified step back. Hamish placed a hand on his shoulder, whispering quickly into his ear. "He's just messing with you. He won't hurt you or anything. It's not as if he'll shoot you!" Hamish smiled at Alex, earning a weak smile in return.

"Sherlock! I swear this gun was clean yesterday!" John Watson said sternly as he entered the kitchen. He held a gleaming gun in his hand, waving it about in an agitated manner. "Have you been shooting things again? Really, how many times-hello!" John noticed their guest, who looked deathly pale by this point. "You must be Alex! Hamish has told us so much about you!"

John held out his hand to shake, forgetting he was still holding his gun. With a small squeak, Alex darted downstairs, running as far away from the scene as possible.

"Dad!" Hamish buried his face in his hands. "Now he'll never talk to me again."

"Oh, I doubt that." Sherlock grinned, looking at John. "He reminded me a bit of your father. He'll be back, don't you worry."

"Yeah, I could never stay away from Sherlock either. Excitement is something he craves, I can tell." John said, an identical smile on his face.

And, as always, Sherlock was right.

ur father. He'll be back, don't you worry."

"Yeah, I could never stay away from Sherlock either. Excitement is something he craves, I can tell." John said, an identical smile on his face.

And, as always, Sherlock was right.