Hamish & Codryss

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic
This story follows the lives of Sherlock Holmes-Watson and his lover John Holmes-Watson's two sons, Hamish and Codryss, as the young eighteen-year-olds solve their own cases, going on many adventures and into copious amounts of trouble along their way.

Submitted: July 13, 2017

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Submitted: July 13, 2017



This story follows the lives of Sherlock Holmes-Watson and his lover John Holmes-Watson's two sons, Hamish and Codryss, as the young eighteen-year-olds solve their own cases, going on many adventures and into copious amounts of trouble along their way.

Book 1 [ Sui Generis ] by Codryss Coulter.
Chapter One

Observing people was always a fascinating activity for Codryss. He found comfort in watching them, reading their movements as if the stories of their lives were being written right in front of him. He tugged up at his cerulean scarf as the breeze rushed past his face, hurrying on as he waited among crowds of boisterous, irritating college kids, near the front gates. Then came a soft but firm tap on his left shoulder and soon a familiar face appeared by his side.
"Took your time." Codryss mumbled into his scarf in annoyance.
"I do apologize, brother mine, I was educating my maths teacher upon a subject which he was finding quite troublesome." Hamish answered.
"Right, well Pa texted a while ago, told us to stop by the Stark Market to pick up some milk on the way."
"Let's go then." Hamish said, smiling down at his younger sibling "It's only about three minutes from here."
"Approximately four-and-a-half minutes at this pace." Codryss replied.
An amused smirk formed upon Hamish's features at the comment as they slightly quickened their pace.
"Anyway," Codryss continued, " Any news that I should be aware of?"
Hamish thought for a few moments, "Ah, yes, you do recall the names: Lincoln Richman and Noah Farneti I'm sure?"
"The college bullies?" The shorter brother questioned.
"Exactly. Well, I've confirmed today that they are secretly dating." A small doubtful frown from Codryss encouraged Hamish to continue, as he knew that Codryss only did this because he enjoyed listening to Hamish's deductions. "It's so obvious. They always write 'SWAG' onto eachothers wrists, which-"
"Which has three main meanings: First and most obvious, the slang 'swag' meaning to do or to have something cool, often times describing a person, used by 'popular' kids to appear more impressive,or at conventions 'swag' stands for 'stuff we all get' and generally describes give-aways. Secondly, the mafia's slang word 'swag' means 'stolen goods', and lastly, 'swag' in the LGBT community stands for 'secretly we are gay.' But how can you definitely be sure that it is infact the third option?" Codryss asked, already intrigued at his brother's speculations.
"I must admit I had my doubts at first, but I have acquired valuable evidence later on, in my science class that has rid me of any previously existing doubts, you see, I am sat a little behind the two, so I often see them exchanging notes between each other. I observed that each time they have read the other's note, they store it away in their jacket's pocket. Therefore, after class, as I was walking past Noah, I inconspicuously and successfully pick-pocketed him and have obtained a few of those notes." Hamish then proceeded to reach into his own coat pocket and withdrew a crumpled-up piece of lined paper, upon which there was a code, reading:


"Ah, I see, they wrote messages in morse code, between the letters. It says 'I love you'. Heh, that's sweet." Codryss concluded, smiling softly at the - somewhat dorky - gesture of the usually-rebellious teens and handed back the note to Hamish.
They continued to walk past a few dull-looking, drained houses with gray clouds above their heads, wandering past corners of worn-down buildings before arriving at the Stark Market.
At the push of the door came a bell-ring alerting the workers of a customer's presence.
"'Ello there boys!" An old, familiar voice shouted from one of the tills with a thick accent.
"Good afternoon, Marvin." Hamish greeted, already making his way over to the dairy isle as Codryss walked over to the till which Marvin stood behind. He was a shabby, bald man in his mid-fourties, working at Stark Market since the brothers were five. The store was usually quiet and so Marvin was normally found typing away at his laptop behind the till, much like today, except his skin looked a little darker now.
"Hi, Marv. Gee, haven't seen you in a while!" Codryss said shyly. Hamish had already joined them and carefully set down a large-sized jug of milk infront of the old man.
"Yeah well, ya know," Marvin began, setting aside his laptop behind him before continuing," A guy 'as gotta 'ave a break sometime, ay? I've been abroad the past week, ya see! Look at th-"
"You're lying." Hamish interjected, instinctively.
"I beg your pardon?" Marvin said, clearly a little alarmed. Knowing Hamish could often come across as rude due to his honest - yet curt - nature, Codryss decided to intervene.
"You see, Marv, you are tanned on the webs between your fingers, natural tans do not appear on the webs between one's fingers therefore your tan must be a spray-on one or an artificial one."
A few seconds passed before Marvin let out a quiet laugh, a laugh that Codryss believed to be slightly less cheerful than usual, "Nothin' gets past you little rascals, ay? Haha. Alright, ya got me. £1.90, Mish." Hamish paid accordingly and this time, it was Codryss' turn to voice his observations. 
"So what's your cat's name, Marv?"
The latter looked up from the cash register and sighed bemusedly.
"Oh come on, now you're just showin' off! I just got 'er two days ago, an' I told no-one. So, how-"
"Obvious." Hamish interjected, once again. "There are lots of tiny little white hairs all over your shirt."
"Yea', but surely they coulda been, like, 'airs from a dog, right?" Marv questioned, also interested in the topic now.
"Of course they could." Codryss replied. "Not in this case however, you see, there are also tiny holes all over your shirt. Most likely a feline then. I'm guessing she's a playful little kitten?" Codryss said, laughing timidly.
Marvin shook his head, still smiling, now handing Hamish a carrier bag with the purchase inside. 
"That's not it, though, is it?" Hamish said, suddenly, Codryss not quite sure what he had missed, "You got that cat for a reason, didn't you?" He continued, Marvin cocked his head to a side, brows furrowing in what almost seemed like a disaproval. A warning.
"Ah, I see." said Hamish, smirking, a familiar look of epithany on his face. "I guess some people buy pets to deal with the loneliness after a divorce."
Codryss' head whipped around to face his brother, wide eyed. A divorce?
"Okay, I think that's enough, Mish, we really need to go now." Codryss pleaded silently that Hamish would understand that he was being insensitive. Poor Marvin stood silently staring at Hamish, a mixture of anger and shock lingering on his worn features. A rage steadily growing at the dismissed warning and a theft of privacy.
Codryss grabbed Hamish's arm and tugged towards the door in encouragement of leaving the subject, milk now forgotten at the counter, yet Hamish gently slipped his arm away from the the caring sibling, and to their dismay, continued to talk.
"Your wedding ring is gone. You never took it off. It was there a week ago, then you suddenly disappear and a week later you re-appear with a fake tan, a cat and an absence of your wedding ring, making false claims as to whereabouts." Hamish stated, so consumed by his observations that he failed to notice the elderly man's exasperated expression and his brother's whispers of protest, he continued, "Now the laptop behind you. You're failure to close down the website which you were visiting prior to our arrival has let me observe that you are currently looking for a flatmate. Not living with your wife then? Hm, yes, now that she's gone, you will have to pay for the house yourself which wouldn't be very easy with your current job working at the till of a small store, hence why you're looking for someone to split the bill with. Then of course there is the faint smell of cheap alcohol on your breath and the noticeable eyebags that delineate your lack of sleep. You're too embarassed to admit to your break-up and so you decided to take a week off and pretended to have gone on holiday instead  - hence the fake tan. Furthermore, you told Cody that when you bought the cat two days ago, you 'told no-one', but surely you would have told your wife? To conclude, it is my belief that she has cheated on you as this would explain your sudden despondent state." Hamish finished, smiling proudly, completely ignorant as to the sudden shift of the mood in the store. Besides him, Codryss was perturbed by Hamish's lack of awareness. Marvin's lower lip quivered in a concoction of rage and sorrow as he stood paralysed across from the teens, staring wide-eyed.
Hamish now realizing something was amiss, looked to Codryss' side, seeking succour. "Not good?" Hamish asked, genuinely surprised. 
"Bit not good, yeah." Replied the younger sibling.


John Watson sat comfortably in Sherlock's lap, sipping the freshly made cup of tea at 221b when they heard soft footsteps indicating that someone was walking up the stairs.
"Ah, the boys must be back already." Said John, setting aside his tea, and giving his husband a final kiss to his temple in exchange for a beautiful, content smile and an equally alluring blush.
They both looked up at the sound of the door opening to see a thoroughly-wet Hamish hiding behind his shorter brother in a childish, almost-embaressed manner.
There was a short pause as everyone silently stared at eachother around the room.
John heard a soft snicker behind him.
"Oh my- Hamish Holmes-Watson! What happened to you?" John asked, confounded, already making his way over to further asses the situation as Sherlock headed for the bathroom in order to obtain a towel for his drenched son.
"Wait a second." Said John in a hasty realization. "Oh, love, you did it again didn't you? How many times do I have to tell you not to deduce other's problems? It's impolite." He scolded. Hamish looked down, sheepishly.
Sherlock re-entered the room, handing the towel over to John.
"Wait - is this the milk I asked you to buy? Mish, are you dripping milk?" John questioned.
Meanwhile, Sherlock walked over and gave Codryss a loving hug. "How was your day, Cody?"
"Was fine, dad," Codryss replied cheerfully. "Any new cases?"


After the family had had tea, Hamish and Codryss sat at the kitchen table, conducting experiments with Sherlock, to help with a case, as usual, while John sat in the living room watching television just a few feet across. He loved observing them all work, and especially loved how Sherlock would lovingly ask if John wanted company exactly every half-an-hour. As he sat there observing the three most important people in his life, he couldn't help but smile.
Hamish, who insists on being called 'Mish', was the older son, nearly nineteen now. He had short blonde hair, much like John's own used to be, only a little longer, but he had Sherlock's mesmerizing eyes : a stunning emerald colour. He did still, however, resemble John more in his appearance. He was the taller brother, too, and acted much like Sherlock.
Codryss, on the other hand, looked much more like Sherlock, with his long curly, jet-black hair. Yet he had John's eyes : A gorgeous sapphire colour, and was very shy and sweet in nature, often being the one reminding his brother of other's feelings. 
John felt extreme pride watching the trio work.
"John? Are you feeling lonely? Do you want me to come join you?" 
And then there was Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes. John couldn't help the smile rising further up his cheeks.
"I'm fine, love." John called out, not wanting to disturb his husband, yet already beginning to grow impatient waiting for their daily late-afternoon cuddles.
"Dad?" Codryss said. "Why do you never call Pa any pet-names?"
Both parents were a little taken aback by the random question.
"Because, Code, 'John' is the highest form of compliment that I know. No pet-names could even come close to describing my love for him, or how perfect he is." Sherlock answered honestly, turning to see one of his favourite sights: John's adorable, precious smile.

Chapter Two
A Story of The Living Twin.

 It was a damp Saturday morning, Sherlock and Codryss were wandering in their mind palaces, each sitting as still as ever in their own single-seat sofas, Hamish was eating breakfast at the table and John was busy blogging about the latest case.
"Mish, I told you not to eat at the kitchen table, sweetheart. Weren't you dipping fingers in harmful substances there yesterday?" John called out from the living room, just as there came a soft knock at the door. Mrs.Hudson's head appeared from behind.
"Oh, Sherlock, got some clients here for you, should I let them in? I told them it was early but they said this couldn't wait."
"Send them in Mrs.Hudson." Sherlock replied.
John had already pulled out an extra chair while the teens headed for the kitchen, were they couldn't be seen. It was a policy that the children cannot be in the same room when a client comes in, however they always want to listen to the case, so they eavsdrop from the room across.
Soon, three strange faces entered the cozy flat, one of them, a male, who took the seat.
"Good morning. John Watson." John greeted, shaking each person's hand in a firm handshake. They each introduced themselves.
Firstly, there was a slim lady in a thick, lilac coat standing by the chair which her companion occupied. Her hair was neat, yet slightly greasy, in a  tightly tied-back style. "Sarah Giovanni. Pleasure."
Next was a mother-type older lady, in a neat, indigo jacket, resting one hand on the boy's shoulder, offering support. Her old age had long started to reveal itself as her hair was now mostly gray, and her wrinkles were very prominent. "Kasandra Giovanni, hello." She greeted, in a confident voice.
And lastly, a clearly-distressed man in his late twenties sat in the offered seat, dressed in loose-fitting gym clothes with messy brown hair. "Stanley Giovanni, Mr.Watson." 
"State your case." Sherlock said. Typical, wanting to get straight to the mystery.
"Well Mr.Holmes," He began," I need your help. You see, I had a twin brother once. However when I was twelve, an unfortunate car accident brought him to an early grave, bless his soul. Trevor Giovanni, his name was. Well..." He paused, eyes watering. An encouraging squeeze to his shoulder persuaded him to continue, "Well, I think that he's actually alive. Infact, I think the moved to London a few weeks ago and is pretending to be me. That's why you need to help me Mr.Holmes."
"Those scratches and bruises on your arms, how did you get them?" Sherlock questioned.
"Ah, they're nothing really, I just sometimes fall off my bed when I'm asleep." Stanley answered, confused as to how that may be relevant to his case.
"Right, and you live alone?".
"Yes, sir."
Sherlock observed that the man was constantly crossing and un-crossing both legs.
"No drugs?"
"None at all, sir."
A few long moments passed, and everyone was looking to Sherlock in expectancy.
"Sherlock?" John prompted, intrigued to know what his lover thought of the interesting mystery.
"Right!" Sherlock began, "Uh, yes, I'm sorry I'm just having a little trouble processing so much stupid all at once."
John, of course unmoved by the curt response, apologized immediately to all, used to Sherlock's blunt behaviour by now.
"Mr.Holmes! I assure you that my brother is not lying to you! Trevor must really be alive!"
Sarah responded.
Sherlock waved a dismissive hand towards her direction, "I refuse to have this much stupid in the room. Remove yourself at once."
Before anyone had a chance to respond, Stanley iterrupted.
"Please Sarah! Just, wait outside, alright? This is too important to me." The desperation in his voice mus have convinced her, because she soon spun around and hurried out of the door.
"Now wait a second, Stan," Kasandra said, "this man cannot just - just - insult Sarah like tha -"
"Ma'am, with all due respect, your existance is giving me a headache. Go stand outside."
Sherlock said. John watched the disbelief adone the woman's face as she swallowed down her anger and headed for the door.
"Good. Now that we can talk properly, can you give me any reasonable evidence to support your belief?" Sherlock questioned, his attention now back on Stanley.
"I sure can, Mr.Holmes." He reached into a large pocket in his shirt and pulled out a few photographs and presenting them to the couple. "A few weeks ago, I had started to notice that all sorts of strangers - people who I have never even met - have been coming up to me, calling me by my name and all, and just starting a conversation like we've known eachother all our lives, you know? And - and - I'm pretty sure that it's not my memory failing me, 'cause I even went and had it checked. And just two days ago, another woman came up to me, 'Melissa' she called herself, and told me something about having a great time with me last night, when in reality, I stayed home all night! And when I told her this, she just - just - laughed and showed me pictures of me and her at a bar! I got 'em printed, here. It's definitely me. I don't drink or do drugs, Mr.Holmes. And what's more, I later even found her phone number saved into my phone. I think I'm losing my mind, Mr.Holmes."
Sherlock, John observed, had a look of pure concentration on his face.
"I accept your case. Leave your contact details with Mrs.Hudson. I'll get back to you when I've solved it." Sherlock stated, in a calm, collected voice.
"Really? Oh - thank you - Mr.Holmes. Honestly, this is great! Thank you." 
John walked the client out after saying goodbye and returned, walking back over to his sofa.
"Alright!" Hamish called out, excitedly. "Finally an interesting case!" Walking out from the kitchen, Codryss following closely behind.
"Which you guys can solve." Sherlock started, "Since John and I are not going to be here. We're leaving for the weekend to celebrate our anniversary in Santorini. You both will be under Mrs.Hudsons surpervision, okay?" 
The brothers looked to eachother, thrilled at the idea.
John stood by, embracing Sherlock, "Yes, but no murders, okay? And you must stay safe, darlings." He said, caringly.
"Yes Pa!" The boys chorused syncronichally, already in elevated spirits.
"But, uh, are you sure we can really solve it, dad?" Codryss hesitated.
"Sure you can. I already have." Sherlock answered, truthfully. "There was no murder involved. I promise."
John laughed in amusement, slightly surprised but mostly proud, not expecting Sherlock to have solved it so quickly.
Hamish seemed now even more determined, smirking at his younger brother.
"I think I see." He said.

Chapter Three

"Silence! Go, prick thy face, and over-red thy fear, Thou lily-liver’d boy!"
"Mish, you are one Shakespearean insult away from getting slapped." Said Codryss.
Hamish laughed, "Did you like it?"
"Which? Your ridiculous plan or the quote from Macbeth?"
"It's an excellent plan, brother mine, not ridiculous. Speaking of which, Mr.Giovanni should be here any minute."
"Wha- Hamish! I can't just pretend to be a professional therapist! Why are you even doing this? What will this prove?" Codryss panicked. "Is this even legal?"
"Don't fret, Cody, as ever, you are slow to observe the obvious. I need you to do this so that you can realize the evident. I also need your confirmation upon something."
"Can't you just tell me what I've missed, Mish? Really?"
"I apologize, Code, but I have neither the time nor the crayons to explain this to you right now. Now relax. You'll do fine. You've always been better at the whole 'human emotions thing." Hamish reasoned, turning around to make his way up the stairs and disappearing into his room.
Codryss stood a little bewildered for a few moments before he heard a soft knocking at the door.
"Cody, love, there's a man at the door for you? Said you'd knew he was coming." Mrs.Hudson called out from downstairs.
Codryss paused, dreading the meeting due to his demure disposition. 'This better be worth it' he thought. "Uh, yes, please send him up."
He went over to prepare two cups of nettle tea, still wondering why Hamish had set up a fake therapy session for Stanley, telling him that he must have a single session with Codryss, 'a phenomenal therapist', before he could start working on the case.



Codryss collapsed onto Hamish's bed in fatigue with a heavy sigh. The elder put down his phone, on which he was just typing, in favor of listening to his sibling's revelations. 
"I'd unplug your life support to charge my phone, you know." Codryss mumbled.
Hamish snorted. "Oh, you know you love me really."
"I would sell you to Satan for a corn chip."
"Oh" Hamish realized." You haven't made the connection yet, have you?"
"You said it was obvious." Codryss said dejectedly.
"It really is, my dear brother." Hamish responded. " Well, tell me what you've learn't about him."
"Can't, I'm afraid, 'brother mine'," Codryss said, in a mocking tone. "Patient confidentiality." He joked.
Hamish sat up a little straighter, leaning against the bed's headboard.
Codryss sighed again, and started, "Stanley Giovanni. Aged 29. He confided in me his struggles of dealing with the loss of his 'beloved best-friend', Trevor. And how he was diagnosed with mild PTSD after his death. He said he's feeling pretty stressed out lately and-"
"No, Cody, I'm not interested in his depressing life problems. Gee, you really didn't notice, did you?" Hamish questioned, sincerely surprised.
"Aparrently not, Mish! Why don't you just tell me?" Codryss spat in frustration.
"Alright, fine." The older brother spoke. "His sleeping patterns."
"His sleeping patterns?" Codryss asked, still uncertain of the link.
"Percisely. Haven't you wondered how dad worked it out so fast? Stanley must have done something that gave away the answer, during their first meeting. And after much analysis, I believe that I have spotted what was wrong. You see, dad's questions struck me as odd. Do you remember what the first question was?"
"Something about how Stanley got his scratches and bruises?"
"Exactly. Well, Stanley replied that the cause was due to him falling off the bed at night. Therfore he recieved the injuries at night. Next, his constant leg-crossing and un-crossing movement. Well, it turns out that that is RLS."
"Restless Legs Syndrome?" Codryss interruped.
"Correct. And this can be a symptom of...?" Hamish enquired.
"A chronic disease, medication, pregnancy?" The younger brother listed doubtedly.
"And?" Hamish investigated, slowly smirking.
A sudden anticipated realization crossed the inky-haired sibling's face.
"Sleepwalking!" Codryss exclaimed. "Oh, I see! That explains everything. For instance, his stratches and bruises! He leaves the house while sleepwalking, and heads over to, a bar, for example, and since sleepwalking people can't form proper sentences, his mumbles were interpreted as intoxication by others. Such as, Melissa. He met many people, so they know him by name even though he has no recollecton of ever meeting them, since he was asleep. Moreover, the last question dad asked was if Stanley lives alone, which of course is obvious since no-one ever noticed him leave the house in the middle of night. He sometimes bumps into things - hence the injuries. Also, during the 'therapy session', he kept rubbing his eyes. Clear sign of constant weariness. Furthermore, sleepwalking can be an effect of PTSD - which he has! It all fits!"
"Well done, Cody. You got there in the end." Hamish said, smiling, satisfied with the conclusion.
"Well, when do we tell him his case is solved?"
"Already done, my dear brother." Said Hamish, waving his phone in front of Codryss.






















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