The Blog of Dr John H Watson
It's been some time since I've even glanced at my blog, so I'm sorry for whoever reads this and have been wondering what has happened to me. Well I'll tell you. Having a winged-baby eats up your time and boy! does my little-one know how to do this with style. More an that later.
My little-one is now seven months old and at the age of the Naming Ceremony. Not as if he's been without a name all this time of course. He has an official hatching-certificate with his name printed on and everything. The Naming Ceremony for winged-infants is when the winged-folk clans will welcome my little-one into the world. His name will be added to his clan's list of members and to his family tree.
Why now I hear you ask. It's been seven months since his hatching!
I'll tell you.
The first seven months of a winged-child is when they're at their most vulnerable, and before the time of modern medicine sickness claimed most winged-infants before they reached this landmark. At seven months old winged-children can walk unaided and are beginning to master speech both human and winged-folk.
Having a winged-toddler is very unlike a human toddler. My little-one's legs are twice the length of his wee body. Reminding me so much of a foal, especially when he was learning to use them. He can run faster than me and loves to climb my bookcase, which I have been informed by Mike it's all normal. It didn't stop me from freaking out the first time he managed to find his way up there!
Anyway my little-one's name will become known to all clans by weekends end and I wanted any who read this to look out as it'll be printed in "The Daily Wing" tomorrow. The day of his Naming Ceremony is today!
Keep your eyes peeled for William Sherlock Scott Holmes.
Can't wait! Going to see my nephew at last!
Behave yourself, yeah Harry?
When do I ever not behave?
Not walking into that trap Harry! But really, you need to be on your best behavour. There's a reason you haven't seen him before.
Watch your mouth Harry!
Bravo, John! You're a great father. It's going to be a great day for everyone.
William? You took my advice! Good on you mate!
Yeah, but we all call him Sherlock. Mrs H was the first to point out it suits him better. More unique than William and he has a character you wouldn't believe. Although I didn't have the heart to change his name. I love the ring of his full name. Something you wouldn't forget in a heartbeat.
John snapped his laptop shut after checking his blog. The first thing ticked off a mile long list. John's not one for list making but today is a big day for him as much as his little-one. Winged-folk make a big deal out of life milestones. This is Sherlock's first of many. It's proof to the Holmes Clan that they picked the right human to raise their offspring and says to the other clans their genes are strong. Very important things to all winged-folk. The only thing John cares about is that Sherlock has the very best start in life as possible, because the world he will one day enter is nothing like that of a human's. All the Holmes Clan cares at the moment is another way to show their strength. If John can help Sherlock show his clan how wonderful he is in some small way then he'll bendover backwards. Anything for his sweet lad.
Soft padded feet whisper across the floor towards John. That can only mean one thing....
"Jawn," chirps Sherlock looking up at John with big blue-silver happy orbs. So much love leaks from his eyes whenever he gazes at John it makes his heartache.
John's little-one is standing before him clad in a white footed onesie with black music notes of every type imaginable scattered throughout. Clutched in his right hand is his most loved toy, a knitted bee. Looking the picture of cute. The bee or Bumble as Sherlock calls it, is thanks to Mrs Hudson, who has knitted many outfits as well as toys for him. Bless her.
"Jawn!" Sherlock repeats lifting his arms up asking to be picked up, he follows this up with a small bounce.
No matter how many times John has tried to get Sherlock to say daddy, da, or dad but to no avail. Sherlock has heard everyone call him John and knows that's his name and sees no point in calling him any other title. Although he can't seem to pronounce it quite right, which is adorable.
"Okay little-one," John chuckles sweeping up his winged-toddler into his arms.
Sherlock sits on John's hip whilst rubbing his cheek on his beloved Bumble, his stubby wings fluttering happily.
"Did you have sweet dreams?"
"What did you dream about?"
John chuckles which in turn makes Sherlock smile his beautiful sweet smile.
"What about we have some yummy breakfast?"
Sherlock's smile melts away and he screams "No!" colouring his cheeks with rightous anger only a child could feel.
"What have I told you about how important breakfast is for growing boys? Hmmmm?" John questions tapping Sherlock's nose with his fingertip playfully.
In answer Sherlock scrunches his nose then yells at the top of his little lungs "No!"
Since the start of weaning Sherlock has been one fussy eater. Every meal time has turned into a battle. John can't believe that was just three months ago when all this fuss began just to get food into his little-one. Sherlock still needs his hatchling feed for top-up between meals and will need it for a few months yet but his main meals are now solid foods. All his teeth are in and ready for use.
"What about porridge?"
John presses a kiss to Sherlock's dark mop of unruly curls.
"I'll pop some honey in. You like honey," John says as he makes his way to the kitchen.
Sherlock opens his mouth to no doubt scream some more then thinks better of it. Blinks his eyes as John's words catch up to him.
"That's right sweetness. Bees makes it remember?"
"Yeah. Bumble is a bee and bees make honey. That's my clever lad."
Sherlock lets out a happy giggle which dances in the air like beautiful music. Nothing makes the winged-toddler happier when his daddy praises him.
Setting Sherlock in his chair at the kitchen table John gets to preparing breakfast for them both. Honey or anything sweet is only given to Sherlock as a treat, as today is a very important day for him John sees today fit for spoiling his sweet little-one.
Jam on toast for John with tea will see him through the morning, for Sherlock as promised porridge with honey mixed in and orange juice to wash it down.
Placing Sherlock's first meal of the day before him John says "Be a good boy and eat it all up. We have a long day ahead of us," a kiss to the crown of Sherlock's head "Give me Bumble whilst you eat," John says gently removing the knitted toy from Sherlock to rescue it from any food damage.
John places the bee on the far end of the table and starts munching on his toast. Sherlock has long mastered the skill of feeding himself...if he wants to that is.
After a few bites of his honeyed porridge Sherlock picks up his sippy cup. It's bright blue with a winged-boy pirate wearing an eyepatch and holding a sword standing dead centre, a treasure chest in the background. Sherlock's eyes flick from his sippy to John's mug then back again.
"I want a big boy cup!"
With toast laidened with Strawberry jam hovering in the air John's navy-blues snap to his little-one.
"Sherlock," he warns.
"Big boy cup!"
"You know you're not old enough."
Since Sherlock somehow confinced Mrs Hudson to give him his juice in a mug that one time Sherlock has been fascinated with mugs.
"Big boy cup! I want!"
Sighing John drops his toast on his plate.
"No Sherlock. You're being naughty and you know what happens to naughty boys. They get to sit in the naughty corner. You don't want that do you? It's boring and we both know how you hate being bored. Now be a good boy and finish your breakfast."
Pouting with all his worth Sherlock lifts his sippy above his head.
"Don't! I mean it Sherlock, that's naughty!"
John moves to remove the cup from Sherlock's tiny fingers but to no avail. Sherlock throws his sippy clear across the room. The plastic hitting the floor with a dull thud and juice dripping from the spout.
"Sherlock! Naughty boy!"
"Big boy cup! Want it now!"
John closes his eyes counting to ten, rubbing his forehead. Today is definitely going to be a long day.
"Yoohoo!" Mrs Hudson sings as she enters 221B. Drapped over her left arm is her pride-and-joy. Love is in every stitch.
John beams at her as he crosses the living-room, Sherlock is on the sofa hugging his long legs to his chest, sulking up a storm after not getting his way this morning. No one can show their displeasure more so than Sherlock.
"Oh dearie, aren't you a sight for sore eyes," Mrs Hudson exclaimes.
John is wearing a suit he bought for this very day. He couldn't wear his heaven-knows-how-old suit for such a big day for his little-one could he? This suit is charcoal, paired with a white shirt and dark blue-grey tie. The day before he had a hair-cut for good measure.
"Thanks Mrs Hudson."
"How's the little-one. I heard the fuss this morning. He's such a spirited one isn't he?"
"That's one way of putting it," John answers with a bright smile.
"How would you put it dear?"
"I'm never bored."
With that they share a fond laugh.
"Here dear, its all done and ready as promised," Mrs Hudson says recovering from her mirth, holding out the garment she'd worked so hard on.
"Oh it's beautiful," John breathes as he holds the golden satin naming-robes in his hands.
The naming-robes all winged-childern wear for their naming ceremonies are coloured to match the richness of their clan. The Holmes Clan as part of the most richest of all Englands clans means the robes must be gold.
"Speak nothing of it John, it was my pleasure."
"You know I could of bought ready made robes for Sherlock."
"You could of done no such thing. This is my gift for Sherlock's special day."
John smiles knowing without a shadow of a doubt that a wrapped present is hiding some place with Sherlock's name on it. She spoils him more than John.
"Do you think there's time to get a cuddle in before you need to go?"
"Go right ahead. I'm sure it'll put a smile on his face."
Mrs Hudson claps her hands then skips round John to a sulky Sherlock.
"How are you sweet pea?" Mrs Hudson's voice flows to John's ears as he runs his fingers over the robes that'll be the first step Sherlock will make into the winged-folk world. What would that world make of Sherlock Holmes? Time will only tell.