You both like Sherlock roleplay.
Stranger: ((Parentlock AU Hamish Watson-Holmes, 15)) Why are you upset with me? -HWH
You: ((Sorry, who am I supposed to be?))
Stranger: (Sherlock or John? Maybe Alex Moriarty if you want)
You: I'm not upset with you. -SH
Stranger: You're acting like it. -HWH
You: I need to be alone for a while. -SH
Stranger: Dad, don't ignore me. -HWH
You: I'm interacting with you right now. -SH
Stranger: Yes, but you were about to leave and start ignoring me. Like you have been the past week. -HWH
You: Maybe you shouldn't have gone into my bedroom then. -SH
Stranger: What are you talking about? -HWH
You: Don't test me, Hamish. I know. -SH
Stranger: Know what? I don't know what you mean. I never went into your room. -HWH
You: Yes, you have. -SH
Stranger: Then what did I do? -HWH
You: I was conducting an experiment at the morgue and brought home something. It's gone, and all of the evidence points to you. The process of elimination, you know this. -SH
Stranger: (delayed) Alright, fine. -HWH
You: You will put it back right now and tell John what you've done. I'm disappointed in you. -SH
Stranger: I can't put it back. -HWH
You: Yes you can. You are physically able to put it back. -SH
Stranger: Not if it's no longer in my posession... -HWH
Stranger: possession* ))
You: What? What have you done with it? -SH
Stranger: I used it... -HWH
You: When? Do you realise how dangerous it is for someone of your age to ingest it? -SH
Stranger: (What are we talking about he took xD)
You: (I was thinking Sherlock's cocaine xD)
Stranger: (Sounds good to me)
Stranger: About half an hour ago. Not that much... -HWH
You: I'm on my way home. Stay put. You're in trouble. -SH
Stranger: Alright. -HWH
You: Where's the bag? You haven't touched my cigarettes, have you? -SH
Stranger: No, and the bag is under my bed. I want to run. Should I run? I'm going to go for a run. -HWH
You: Put the bag back. You're not going anywhere. -SH
Stranger: Okay, okay. -HWH
You: Don't 'okay, okay' me. Open the front door. -SH
Stranger: Alright. -HWH
Stranger: (change to para style?)
Stranger: Hamish opened the door, seeming like he'd just drank about three pots of coffee. "Put the bag back, can I run now?" He asked.
You: Sherlock said nothing but grabbed the boy by the collar, kicking the door closed and dragging him to the sitting room, forcing Hamish to sit down. "You are this close to having overdosed, did you know that? You could have had a seizure." He said, tone angry and clipped. "You will sit there until you get off of the high."
Stranger: Even if Sherlock was angry with him, the boy pouted. "I can't sit for that loooong." He whined, foot tapping. He wanted to move around and get things done. "Pleeeeease can I do something?" He asked.
You: "No. It will last for at least another half hour, and you will not get out of that chair." Sherlock remembered how difficult it was for himself, but it was a deserved punishment. He had warned him on many occasions to not go into his room, and yet he did.
Stranger: Hamish groaned and let his head fall back. "I can't sit for that long!" He said again. After a moment, he couldn't stand it and moved to get up.
You: "You can and you will," Sherlock said, moving quickly to shove him back down. "I'm guessing you don't want me to handcuff you to this chair. Don't make me."
Stranger: 'But I want to move!!" He shouted, squirming in his seat.
You: "Then listen to my words and take into account the worst. Drugs are bad for you." Sherlock felt like such a hypocrite, but it was important to keep him off of it for as long as possible. He was only fifteen, after all.
Stranger: "You did it." He said with a pout. "And my head is going so so fast, it's amazing!" He shouted.
You: "I don't do drugs, I experiment with them. There is a difference." He knew it was amazing, but he wasn't addicted. It was just a filler in between cases. Hamish's situation was different.
Stranger: "You take them though. So why exactly can't I? I didn't overdose." He said, still tapping his foot, though the effects were slowly beginning to wear and he was slowing down.
You: "You can't control yourself. You have a developing brain that you will destroy if you continue. Don't they tell you this at school? I don't want to see that happen, and if I ever catch you at this again, I will lock you up in your room." His expression was very serious.
Stranger: "But I really like it." He said, still squirming around in his seat. He was becoming less fidgety.
You: "Just because you like something doesn't mean you can have it. Learn that now." Sherlock sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to calm down.
Stranger: "Well you're not always home. It's boring alone." He complained.
You: "Read. Fill your mind with knowledge. I don't know, whatever kids do these days other than do drugs or anything else that's dangerous." He shot back.
Stranger: "A looot of kids do drugs." He replied with a little grin on his face.
You: "You're not going to be one of those kids." He frowned. He'd expect one of his own to be more intelligent in decisions.
Stranger: Hamish huffed and crossed his arms. When it was finally over, he felt awful.
You: "Go make yourself tea, and lots of it. It helps. And mineral water," Sherlock added, standing up and looking down at him.
Stranger: Hamish nodded and stood up, leaving to do what he was instructed. Sorrys wouldn't help and he knew it.
You: Sherlock went into his bedroom and pressed his hands to the back of his neck to relieve the tension. He had to be more careful with his substances now that this had happened. He anticipated it would happen at some point, but he was still angry. He grabbed two nicotine patches and rolled up his sleeve, applying them and laying on his bed, taking a deep breath.
Stranger: Hamish made himself some tea and got himself some of the water, sitting on the couch and curling up. He was feeling so awful.
You: He didn't expect Hamish to go straight for the cocaine, at the very least. It was a hard drug, not one for first users. It worried him, but he pushed away the feeling temporarily. How would John react when he found out? Not well, that was for sure. He might take away his cigarettes again.
Stranger: After finishing his drinks, he got up and walked to his dad's room, knocking gently on the door. "Dad?..."
You: "What do you want?" He asked sharply. Sherlock didn't want to hear any apologies, just expected better next time.
Stranger: "I... I don't feel well." He said. "I understand I'm supposed to, but it's... I /really/ don't feel well..." He mumbled,
You: "Come in, describe how you feel." He forgot to roll down his sleeve as he stared at the door expectantly.
Stranger: Hamish steppe inside, glancing at the patches then looking away. He didn't want to argue. "My head and stomach really hurt, and I feel really sick... And sort of dizzy." He admitted. He stood for a moment, the symptoms just getting worse until he actually fell over.
You: Sherlock cursed, hopping off of his bed in an instant. He kneeled by Hamish, checking for his pulse. Still elevated. "By the name of...how much did you have?" He asked quickly, eyes widened slightly.
Stranger: "I don't know. A little less than a palm full?" He said, closing his eyes and feeling honestly horrible.
You: "Hamish Watson-Holmes!" Sherlock shouted before quieting down. In a lower voice, he said, "That's too much, far too much. You're not supposed to take more than...well, that doesn't matter. Here, lay down." He helped him onto the bed. "How dizzy are you?"
Stranger: "I almost can't see straight." He said, wanting to keep his eyes closed. He held his head in his hands, feeling his own heart pounding away in his chest, his breathing getting faster. "Dad, please make it stop..." He whimpered.
You: "Shh, stop talking," he said, pacing around quickly as he called John. He wasn't sure what to do, but he knew that he had to keep a level head.
Stranger: Hamish did as he was told, staying quiet and feeling like he was going to have a heart attack with how his heart was going. John answered the phone. "Is something wrong, Sherlock? You never call." He said.
You: "Never mind that, Hamish needs your medical attention. He overdosed on my cocaine. A handful," Sherlock spoke in a rushed manner.
Stranger: John didn't speak for a moment. "Oh my God, Sherlock, he needs to get to a hospital. Until you can get him there, I need you to keep him calm and make sure he doesn't panic. If you can, get him to try and get it out of his system in some way." He said.
You: "I already phoned the hospital. There's too much in his system to just get it out." He sat on the bed, looking at Hamish and absentmindedly letting the worry show on his face.
Stranger: "Alright, Sherlock, stay calm. If you don't, he'll notice. If he panics he'll..." John couldn't say it. More than likely Hamish would have a heart attack or worse if he panicked. Hamish still had his eyes closed and he was curled up.
You: "I know, I know. I'm doing my best," Sherlock exhaled through his nose, placing a hand on Hamish's shoulder. It felt odd; he didn't comfort him very often. In fact, it was pretty rare.
Stranger: "Keep me on the phone, tell me if anything happens." He said softly. Hamish looked up at Sherlock. "I'm sorry, dad..." He said.
You: "I will," Sherlock said quietly. He looked at Hamish, shushing him down again. Maybe he should have been more compassionate to him. That was what regular people did, wasn't it?
Stranger: Hamish felt the tears in his eyes and curled up more. "Am I going to die?" He asked.
You: "Don't be ridiculous, you're not going to die," Sherlock muttered, looking away.
Stranger: Hamish moved and grabbed his dad's sleeve. It was a miracle he could see straight enough. He didn't say anything, just wanted to feel like he had an anchor.
You: Sherlock took a small, shaky breath, placing his hand beneath his head. "You'll be alright, Hamish." He said quietly.
Stranger: "I'm sorry, dad." He said softly. "I just wanted something so I didn't feel alone here..." He whimpered. He always felt lonely because he barely saw his parents anymore. With him in school and them at work, he only saw them if Sherlock didn't have a case or John was off for the day.
You: "It's not your fault," He muttered. Soon enough, an ambulance arrived, and Hamish was placed on a stretcher.
Stranger: The boy wanted his dad, asking the paramedics if he could ride, almost begging them.
You: "I'll be there soon, don't worry," Sherlock reassured, to which the paramedics carried him away.
Stranger: A few days later, and Hamish was lying in a hospital bed, just beginning to wake up after having been worked on for a while. The doctors had barely managed to save him from the edge and his parents were told that.
You: Sherlock hadn't so much as gotten a wink of sleep the entire time, leaving him to be slipping in and out of consciousness occasionally. But that didn't matter. As soon as he was allowed, he went to visit Hamish. He finally got to see him after a few days, and he came into the room, still wearing the same clothes that he was wearing on that day and with heavy bags under his eyes.
Stranger: The teenager looked up when he saw his dad, wincing as he sat up. He was sore and felt a little nauseous. "How long have I been asleep?" He asked, voice rough, though he was glad he was alive.
You: "A day or two I think," Sherlock replied, sitting down.
Stranger: "Oh..." He mumbled, looking down, then back at his dad. "What happened?" He asked softly.
You: "You stole my drugs and nearly killed yourself," He said shortly but quietly.
Stranger: "Oh..." He mumbled, looking down. He remembered some of what happened, but not much. "I'm sorry dad..."
You: He closed his eyes momentarily. "Don't...Don't apologise."
Stranger: Hamish frowned, not saying anything. Now that he was beginning to remember, he felt awful.
You: "Hamish?" He asked a bit reluctantly.
Stranger: The boy looked up. "Yes?" He asked.
You: "Please don't do this ever again. You have..." Sherlock took a shaky breath. "You have no idea how difficult that was for your father and I."
Stranger: He looked back down. "I won't." He promised softly, then looked back over. He wanted to explain himself, but wasn't sure if he could.
You: "I know how you feel, but you should have just talked about it to one of us."
Stranger: "I didn't mean for this to happen, dad..." He said softly. "I just felt like you and papa were never home and I felt alone...
You: Sherlock wanted to say sorry, but he couldn't seem to get himself to say the words. He instead took his hand, squeezing it.
Stranger: Hamish looked at him, then he felt the tears in his eyes. "I know you need to work, but I wish you were home more... I barely see you..."
You: He looked down guiltily. "I know. I promise, I'll be home more often." It wasn't the old times anymore, they couldn't just leave and rarely be home anymore. They had taken a child in, and it was their job to raise him.
Stranger: The boy didn't mean to, but he started to cry. "I'm sorry, da...." He said, wiping his eyes.
You: "Don't be sorry," he insisted. "It's not your fault at all."
Stranger: "Yes it is..." He said, sniffling a little. "I was stupid... I shouldn't have... I'm such an idiot."
Stranger: (Do you have a wattpad?
You: "Listen to me, Hamish," Sherlock said, looking at him suddenly with a piercing look. "Don't say that about yourself. I thought the same thing when I was younger. I believed I was an idiot because of my rubbish brother. I'm not letting that happen to you. I can't bear to let it."
You: (Yes, I do. icy_flame202)
Stranger: (Okay, just for when I have to leave)
Stranger: Hamish frowned and wiped his eyes again. He had asked before, but he had to ask again. "Why did you adopt me?..."
You: For once, the answer was different. "Because I need someone to rant to when John isn't home or when my skull gets taken away," he joked lightly, eyes twinkling.
Stranger: Hamish looked up at him, but couldn't help smiling a little. "Really, why did you?" He asked, feeling a little more at ease.
You: "I don't know. We felt we were ready to contribute to the human race and raise someone," Sherlock answered honestly. "John saw you and he said, 'Sherlock, I found the one'. Mind you, you slapped me right across the face but warmed up to him just fine when we carried you."
Stranger: Hamish smiled at that. "I was three." He chuckled. "I thought you looked scary." He said. It had been true at the time, but now he loved them both. He didn't even remember his past family.
You: "I'll be honest, I thought you looked funny at first," He smiled in return.
Stranger: "I had pretty big ears." He said, remembering the picture they had of him.
You: "You still have pretty big ears." He joked.
Stranger: "I do not." Hamish said, though laughed still. "The rest of me just hasn't grown into them."
You: "You should see the amount of times John talks about my cheekbones," Sherlock laughed quietly.
Stranger: "What about his nose?" he said, smiling big. "I think we all have something." He said, chuckling and chewing on his lip.
You: "We do," He agreed.
Stranger: "So um... when can I get out?" He asked, looking up at him.
You: "Tomorrow," Sherlock replied. "And I was wondering something..."
Stranger: "Yes?" He asked him.
You: "Would you like to accompany me on a case when you get out?" A small smirk typical of Sherlock appeared on his face.
Stranger: Hamish was a little surprised, but smiled wide. "Yeah, I'd love that." He said.
You: "Wonderful. You can learn some deductive skills too."
Stranger: The teenager smiled and nodded his head. "Yeah. Thanks, dad. I love you."
You: "I love you too." Sherlock stood up, giving him one last smile. "I'll see you tomorrow, I need to get sleep."
Stranger: "Alright." He said, smiling softly. (I have an idea if we timeskip a while?)
Stranger: (Okay What if a year later Hamish is okay, and he ends up getting a crush or something and tries to hide it?)
You: (Ooh, sounds interesting xD)
Stranger: (Okay I can start us off)
Stranger: It was a little over a year since Hamish's near overdose. Now, he was just fine, though still a little off. Currently, he'd just gotten home from school, sighing and throwing his bag onto the couch before he headed to the kitchen. He was annoyed because one of the boys in his class was really making him feel odd. He knew what it was, and he didn't really want his parents to know, so he hoped he could calm down before he saw them.
You: Sherlock had made a quick stop at home for a few supplies, and he heard Hamish coming in. He opened his door, stepping out to greet him. Halfway into his first word, he paused. "You like somebody," he guessed easily, glancing him over.
Stranger: Hamish looked over. "What? No. I just had a bad day at school." He said, looking through the fridge and picking out the jug of milk. He only drank them on certain occasions when he was really happy or really upset. Now it was for both. He got a glass and drank it.
You: "Who is it?" He asked, ignoring his simple lies and smiling slightly as he walked over.
Stranger: "No one." He said, wiping the excess milk off his upper lip. "He's just a boy in my class, I don't like him." He said, then paused and cursed himself mentally. Hamish had just given it away.
Stranger: (Okay please reply over wattpad??)
Stranger: (Thanks! Bye!0