67 Chapter 1

DO NOT OWN SHERLOCK OR ANY OF THE OTHER CHARACTERS!

Okay I am one of the people that signed up with Sherlock having rotten parents and so I'm pretending they still are. Creative license and all that. If any one is interesting in beta'ing please let me know. Otherwise flames will be used to burn Mycroft's umbrella. Also for my purposes this runs a bit fast time wise. Fair warning.

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It started with a curious package. Had John been paying closer attention, he never would have allowed Sherlock to open the simple brown box entitled with nothing more than his name. John, however, was in a terrible place along with his wife Mary.

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Mary had recently woken up with excruciating craps and blood running down her thighs. John had run her to the hospital. Not five minutes after they arrived the doctors had brought her out back, forcing John to stay in the waiting area. The doctor paced anxiously biting his lip staring at the doors waiting for any sort of news. Hurried footsteps caught his attention and he turned recognizing them as belonging to his best friend, Sherlock Holmes. The consulting detective looked at him with a tinge of worry before moving to stand in front of him.

"I came as soon as I could, have you heard anything?"

John's voice hitched as he responded."No she just went in, they won't let me in. I don't know what happened, I just woke to her screaming. There was blood and..." Unable to finish his sentence, he leapt forward, head resting on Sherlock's shoulder. The scratchy wool of his belstaff comforting as he felt a few tears escape. His arms were wrapped around his friend, and distantly he was surprised when he felt Sherlock's arms envelope him in a return hug.

John wasn't sure how long he stayed in the other man's arms. Sherlock kept quiet, his breathing seemed quicker than normal but John knew he wasn't used to physical contact and he appreciated his effort to comfort his friend. John just stood taking in the quiet calm of his friend, smelling the scent of chemicals and the spicy mint that made up Sherlock's cologne. He heard the squeak of someone down the hallway, and a tap tapping following with it. He didn't move, his mind to focused on what was going on with his wife and child.

"Sherlock, have they told you anything." John started when he heard Mycroft's voice, he pulled away looking up with red rimmed eyes, squinting at the older man who fumbled with his umbrella.

The man as usual was dressed in an immaculate black suit, white shirt pressed. What surprised him was the distinctly uncomfortable face. John glanced at Sherlock, whose face was sad and stressed but not uncomfortable. Its when he realized how far Sherlock had come from his brother. Sherlock had let people in, allowed himself to care. Something that Mycroft often teased the other man for. Shaking from his thoughts he looked once more as Sherlock replied in the negative and Mycroft allowed his cool mask to fall once more.

"Give me a moment. "

He straightened into his government pose and marched to the desk. He leaned in and appeared to say only a couple of words. The overtired looking nurse, hair frazzled and circles under her eyes went completely pale and jumped up running for the back.

In the time that it took Mycroft to walk back over to them, the nurse ran back, a doctor running after her, eyes wide.

"Ah good Doctor. My dear friend here needs to know what is happening with his wife and child. Now, if you please." Mycroft's face was steel although his voice was mild as if ordering takeout.

"Mr. uh Watson?" The doctor asked nervously, eyeing the two stony faced brothers flanking the shorter man.

"Doctor Watson." Sherlock snapped suddenly, his ice eyes glancing at the quivering doctor with distaste. He only looked away when John placed a hand on his arm and nodded at the doctor to continue.

"Do-doctor then, I -I was just about to come out to you. I'm...I'm terribly sorry, but the baby didn't make it."

John felt his heart drop, eyes glazed in tears as he stared at the man. Distantly he heard Sherlock snap.

"What about his wife?"

The doctor jumped before adding. "She's resting, but physically she's going to be fine."

John felt lightheaded, he wasn't sure if he would be able to continue standing. He barely moved when he felt a hand grip his arm steadying him. He leaned heavily against Sherlock, unsure what to do.

Finally he realized that Sherlock was tugging his arm and speaking to him. He turned trying to focus on his friend.

"...go see Mary?" He caught enough to understand and nodded his head frantically.

Sherlock simply nodded back. Gripping John's arm once more, he lead him down the hall after the doctor, glaring when he noticed the nurse tried to argue. She eeped and just watched as the shorter man followed the tall man with the flowing jacket down the hall. All she could think was how lucky he was to have someone like that on his side.

Passing dark rooms with beeping, blinking machines, John frantically looked into each on trying to find Mary. The smell of disinfectant, usually comforting, was making him nauseous. Finally after what seemed like years, Sherlock gently stopped him and directed him to a room on the right. He guided him in. The room had a light on in the corner, the beige walls caused the occupant of the bed to seem even paler than she actually was. And Mary Watson was very pale. Her blond hair lay limply on the crisp white pillow case. Her eyelashes lay black against her white cheeks, face screwed up in agony. She was hooked up to a couple machines the blipped away in the background. John stumbled over to her gripping her cold hand tightly in his. There was a lump in his throat and burning in his eyes. The world felt surreal, he pulled the wood backed chair closer and sat head down. Only to shoot back up when he heard the door open. He didn't have to look to know that Sherlock was trying to slip out.

"Stay." He said."Please." He relaxed when he heard the door close and the footsteps from the other man come back into the room and stand behind him. He sighed studying his wife unhappily with the strong presence of his best friend behind him. He didn't know how they were going to survive this. How did you survive losing your child? Especially so suddenly and violently. A hand on his shoulder brought him from his depressed spiral of thoughts.

"Thank you Sherlock." He whispered quietly squaring himself and pushing away his emotions. Right now Mary needed him, later they could both grieve but for now he needed to be strong and he was thankful to Sherlock for helping bring him back to himself.

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Mary had stayed in the hospital for three days. She was quiet and depressed but was insistent she wanted to deal with everything at home. When they were sure that she was healed and that she was eating solid food, they suggested a psychiatrist for the two of them and with nothing more they were able to do, they released her. John hadn't left her side the entire three days. Sherlock came back and forth with clothes, and food supplies for the older man, being silently supportive but not really sure what to say. He had allowed Mary to hug him and cry on his shoulder at one point when John had disappeared to use the loo and get a tea. He had held her tight, eyes blank as he tried not to allow his emotions to overwhelm him while he comforted her. When John walked back in, Mary pulled away and stroked his face gently in thanks before turning a watery smile on her husband. Soon after the man disappeared out of the door and his friends stared after him worriedly. He was coming to pick them up, so maybe they could get him to talk then.

John helped Mary out of her wheelchair outside. Tedious paperwork had been signed and well wishes given by their colleagues. They agreed now they just wanted to find Sherlock and get home. Looking up he noticed DI Lestrade, Sergeant Donovan, and surprisingly Anderson standing near a police issued van. Eye quirked John led Mary up to Lestrade.

"We were out on a case. Sherlock texted and said he was being held up and you two needed a ride home." He shrugged almost amazed at the changes in Sherlock because of the two people in front of him.

The two nodded and Mary allowed Sally to help her into the van. It was relatively silent on the drive, but John did ask a couple questions about the case. Turns out Sherlock had not accepted the case because he was busy with other things. The Watsons looked at each other nervously at that. Sherlock had been back and forth at the hospital, but other than that what could he have been doing? The last time he'd said he was "busy" John had found him in a drug house.

Their confusion was raised even more when outside their apartment building sat one of Mycroft's many cars. Conspicuously empty of Anthea or a driver. Shrugging the couple and their escorts went in and wandered down the pale yellow halls of the apartment building, trying to keep from shuffling their feet and the pale pink carpet so as to maybe hear what was going on in their apartment. About two doors down they began to hear why Mycroft had shown up. His raised voice caused John to jump, he'd never heard Mycroft speak any higher than required for polite conversation.

"You are a disgrace! I told you caring wasn't an advantage, that it would get you hurt. What will it take for you to understand there is no one in the world that cares about you? Mother and Father's treatment of you isn't enough? How about the fact he dropped you for that woman? Then you got yourself excited about that child and it left too. You are bad luck! You are a damaged sociopath and are incapable of being loved." Mycroft's voice was like venom oozing poison at his victim whom in this case happened to be his own younger brother.

"Mycroft, get out. They're going to be here soon." Mary gripped John's arm, Sherlock's voice was quiet and seemed almost broken somehow. The two shot angry looks at each other. The man in there was torturing his younger brother and using their child to do it. John rushed forward, bursting into his apartment. Looking wildly he found Mycroft and had him pinned to the wall before the man could move.

"I am a very dangerous man the best of times." He hissed at the government official. "But you are messing with two very important things to me right now. Sherlock and my...my child." He felt tears coming to his eyes once more. "What the hell is wrong with you? Saying those things!"

He didn't notice the choking noise Mycroft was making until he felt a gentle hand take his shoulder.

"John its not worth it." He heard Sherlock's baritone voice say from directly behind him.

"He is if he hurts you." John snapped back.

Sherlock sighed. "John let him go. You are angry and you are over reacting."

At this John did release the man and spin to his friend, he was ready to yell about how sticking up for his best friend wasn't overreacting before he took a look at the other man's face. He had a wild uncomfortable look and his eyes were darting at everyone in the room. He kept looking at John pleadingly. Then the doctor realized. Sherlock was embarrassed by what the other man had said in front of his friends and colleagues. He wanted him to go away but didn't want to cause a scene. A scene that John had effectively caused anyway. He nodded once at his friend whose relief became palpable before doing an army about face to the other man.

"You get out of my house, Sherlock will be staying here with us for the foreseeable future. He's agreed to help out." Sherlock had agreed to no such thing, but they needed each other especially now, so he would quiet any arguments the other man may have. "You will stay away from us and you will stay away from him, unless he says otherwise. We know important people too, and you know we will put up a hell of a fight."

Mycroft took a step back from the raw anger and pain coming from the shorter man. He seemed to be seething with his own anger and something else that John couldn't pinpoint and at this moment didn't particularly have a care to try to name.

"Fine, don't say I didn't warn you about the what do you call him?" He turned to Donovan at this. "Ah yes, the freak."

Gripping his umbrella tightly, the only physical indication of his anger and frustration, before stalking gracefully from the apartment. John stared after him seriously debating not just letting him get away with it. Truly what was the mans problem? Three days ago he was helping them get Mary comfortable and making sure visiting hours didn't apply to himself and Sherlock and now...well he would give him the benefit of having a stressful job and leave him be. But he would be keeping a closer eye on his interactions with Sherlock from now on.

"What a horrible man!" Mary exclaimed taking a seat on her sofa. "Are you alright Sherlock?" She asked concerned.

"I'm fine!" He snapped fiddling with a brown box that suddenly seemed to appear in his hand. John glanced at it, noticing the only markings on it were Sherlock's name in a handwriting he didn't recognize from anyone that would normally send Sherlock anything. He was about to say something when a gasp from his wife redirected his attention.

Mary had gone to seat herself on their couch and get more comfortable, but she had forgotten that they had been sorting through the baby shower today gifts that night and apparently one small outfit had been left out. She clutched it in a white knuckle grip her other hand reaching to cover her mouth in her distress.

"Oh my baby." Her voice shuddered as her sobs began. John sat next to her, taking the dress and setting it aside as he wrapped her in his arms, his own tears beginning. He noticed the three escorts were standing around unsure of what to do, Sherlock was sitting at the table with his package. The agony ripped through him as he realized there would be no child, there would be no games, days at the park, no hugs and cuddles. No little feet pattering in the morning. He felt like his heart was ripping out of his body, his spine bowing with the weight of what he lost. Whenever he felt like he could stop, Mary would sniffle and he'd start all over again. It felt as though they were drowning and nothing to save them.

That was until the bang.

The two stood up quickly ready to abandon the room, but were stopped by the image in the corner of the room. A purple smoke billowed where Sherlock had just been standing.

'Nononono!" John screamed in his head as he skidded over there, coughing as he went through the smoke.

"Sherlock!" He croaked. "Sherlock are you alright? Dammit!" He nearly stepped on something, stumbling back, he hit his knees and felt around. He could feel Sherlock's coat, he tugged it towards him. It was heavy but not as heavy as it should be. He really hoped, and he never had before, that Sherlock had been neglecting his eating habits again.

Tugging the jacket and heavy object free from the smoke he heard gasps from everyone in the room before looking, his own jaw dropping. Laying there, pooled in Sherlock's clothes was a child. John blinked to be sure. The child had alabaster skin, much like Sherlock, he had curly black locks, much like Sherlock, from the bit of bare chest John could see, he could tell the child was absolutely emaciated, much like Sherlock looked if he neglected himself too long. What got the army doctor though was the bruises covering the boys face and pieces of skin he could see. Somehow he knew that he couldn't blame the explosion either. Clearly on his face, and neck were finger marks. Someone had grabbed this child by his face and neck at least.

"Oh please no." He whispered, but he knew that it was false hope. Everyone had seen Sherlock standing over there, they'd seen him just before the explosion and here this child was after the fact. Someone had done this to him but why? And how?

His medical training finally kicked in, and he knelt next to the boy, barking orders as he went.

"Mary we need warm water, towels and a first aid kit. Lestrade call that no good brother of Sherlock's and get him back here. Sally in the room down the hall to the left grab me the pillows and a blanket. Anderson, make tea!"

As the rest scrambled to do as they were told, John slowly reached a hand out to the little boy before him. The boys face was grimaced, as if he was fearful even in his sleep. John's heart dropped a bit at this. He remembered what Mycroft had screamed before he'd run in. Had Sherlock's parents abused him? How could that be, he'd met them, they'd seemed so ordinary, so nice. Suddenly John wondered if the real reason they had never been at Sherlock's funeral wasn't because they knew he wasn't dead but because they didn't care. He forcefully took his focus off that. There was no reason to jump to conclusions until Mycroft got there.

Acknowledging his wife's return, John began by removing the boy from Sherlock's oversized clothes. He felt his anger come back as he saw the rest of him. His body was bruised, his arms and wrists had more finger marks, his chest and back were marked with what looked like a whip of some kind.

"Oh Sherlock." He whispered."Alright I need a towel and that water." He was very glad that Mary was a nurse. While she was clearly upset by the state Sherlock was in, she quickly and proficiently handed him what he needed.

When Sally came back he had her set the pillows and blanket on the couch before shooing her off to assist Anderson. He was sure he could see tears as she looked down at his little patient.

Moving on from cleaning the wounds, he found that there were only two wounds that were in need of stitches. Deciding against the local as the boy was unconscious anyway, he quickly and neatly stitched before closing the kit and motioning for the blanket. Wrapping the boy up so he was covered and warm, John held him bridal style determining what to do. Deciding he didn't want Sherlock to be alone on the couch when Mycroft came in he sat adjusting the pillows on his leg and over his arm, placing Sherlock's head there and allowing him to lay across his lap so his legs were on the couch, while John's were set on the floor. One arm cradled the pillows and the child's head while the other held Sherlock gently by the middle. Trying to give him the unconscious feeling of safety while that the same time making sure that no one could take the boy from him. He wasn't losing anyone else.

Silence reigned the flat after that. Sally and Anderson had come back with tea, they were seated on a couple of kitchen chairs nearby sipping and studying the child every once and a while. Mary had shifted Sherlock's legs into her lap so that she was close to John and him. No one moved until the door finally opened revealing Lestrade, Mycroft and...John stiffened when he saw the boys parents standing behind them.

"Well well." Mycroft said simply his eyes deducing the room. "He played with something he shouldn't." His face almost seemed to deflate when he noticed the wounds, but it went back to cold in a matter of seconds.

"I'm not doing it again!" It was the father, his face looking disgusted at his newly deaged son. "Once was enough with that bloody freak. I"m not doing it again! I won't promise not to kill him this time around. No punishment could put manners in that little demon's head." He turned to his wife, face full of rage. "No!"

Simpering she walked up to him, and patted his arm. "Dear he is no longer our responsibility. There is no where it says you have to take care of a mistake twice."

John couldn't believe what he was hearing. He murmured something soothing to Sherlock who had begun to shift in his sleep.

"Don't bother comforting him."The mother said. "He will just disappoint you. We tried everything to make him normal and as you well know it didn't work."

John pulled the figure closer, anger pooling, eyes going red. This woman appeared to honestly think she was doing him a favor by warning him against the young boy. Adult Sherlock was difficult to be sure but he was the easiest person in the world to love if only for the fact he didn't expect to be liked never mind loved.

"What did you do to him?" He spat hatefully.

"If we tell you." Mycroft cut in. "There are a few conditions. First of all my parents will leave, there will be no arrest. Second we will have nothing to do with him. Do we agree?"

John looked piercingly at Lestrade. At this point it was really too late to arrest them but they did need the information.

"Fine." Lestrade added. The detective was clearly very angry himself. He had known Sherlock since he was a teenager and more open to emotions than he was now. He cared for the consulting detective and knew some about his past. He hadn't known that he didn't have a safe home growing up and it killed him.

"BUT SIR!" Donavan began before her superior shushed her with a pointed look. She quieted down but looked angrily at the older people in front of them.

"The freak was never a receptive child. You know him, he blurts out deductions without thinking things through. He experiments on everything. He doesn't understand a social cues or what's proper no matter how often he's told. He's been nothing but a disappointment. I've used belts, whips, sticks, frying pans and my fists to beat sense into him." The father said almost gleefully.

"I tried locking him away in the closet when he did something wrong, we kept food from him as a punishment, kept him from sleeping to try and slow him down. Nothing worked. He really was a mistake."

The room just stared at the two parents, unsure what to say. The silence was broken by a crack. Mary had stood and slapped the mother across the face.

"How dare you! How dare you take such a gift and throw it away. You had a child. A child who despite everything the three of you have done to him, is very loving, generous and sweet when he feels he can be! How could you!" She screeched tears at her own loss and the un-justice of one of her best friends shaking her core.

"Just...just get out." John said quietly, cuddling his friend closer, unable to wrap his mind around everything his friend had been through. He was amazed he was still living. Being tortured at school, and work but then to find out there hadn't even been a reprieve at home. They would work to bring his Sherlock back but while they were with the child version, he would know a better way of growing up. Sherlock wasn't the only one who could make a vow, and this was John's.

"Yea well we already told you the mistake you were making. If you want to keep him, good luck." Sherlock's father sneered before taking his wife's hand and tugging her out. "Coming Mycroft?" He called.

"Just be a moment father. Government business never ends." His father nodded before finally leaving the flat.

Mycroft reached into his coat and pulled out a long piece of leather. John thought after a moment that it must be a wallet. Opening it, he pulled something out and reached to hand it too John.

"Whatever you may think of me, I did it to protect Sherlock so he wouldn't be betrayed again like he was with our parents. This is to help with his care until he is returned to his correct size. No limit." John considered leaving it, but decided he should take it in case. He didn't want to have to use the prat's money to take care of his friend, but no use in not taking a back up.

He nodded coldly at Mycroft, who simply put his wallet away and turned walking out. Everyone sat for a few moments not quite sure what to do next.

Lestrade shifted and decided to speak first.

"Well I suppose we should head back to Scotland Yard. Give us a call if you need a hand yea?" He said to John and Mary waiting for their nods before motioning to Donovan and Anderson to follow him out.

Sally stopped in the doorway. "Me too yea? I know I wasn't nice but... well I wish to make it up to him if I can. Even a little." She turned before they responded, trying to hide the tears in her eyes.

Mary stood looking down upon her husband and the child they had gained in the wake of their own loss. She'd loved the man dearly but now her maternity instincts had kicked in. If anyone tried to hurt her Sherlock again, they would find the dark side of Mary Morston Watson very quickly.

"Well dear." She said waiting for John to look up at her." I suppose we should ask Mrs. Hudson if we can move to 221B. Two bedrooms, and someone to help look after him."

John was reminded once again why he loved this woman. He was still back in punching people land, she was already three steps into the future. "Good idea love. We'll go over right now, I'm sure she'll be thrilled once we convince her who this is. She may even go kids shopping with you." He wouldn't dare leave Sherlock with anyone else. He'd always had a special bond with the detective and it had only solidified more when he looked down at the small painfilled face.

Packing what they would need for a few days, they had made their way to Sherlock's flat. Mrs. Hudson was surprising easy to convince that the child in front of her was Sherlock. John supposed she had been expecting something strange for years with all of his experimentation. As John had predicted she'd been delighted to have them take the flat.

"I've been so worried about him being alone up here. Never sleeps, never eats. It's not healthy." Before immediately agreeing to go out and get some essentials for the a young boy.

"How old is the dear?" She asked. John gave a sharp look at Mary. Of all the questions they should have asked.

PING it seemed a Holmes brother was one step ahead again. John shifted Sherlock into one arm, his head on John's shoulder as he reached for his phone.

-He's seven for reference of supplies. I apologize for not telling you sooner. MH-

"Seven." John had said, watching the girls go on their way, Mycroft's credit card in hand.

Sighing, he decided to make himself comfortable as he waited for the boy to wake. Finally settling himself in his old chair he cuddled Sherlock to his chest and put his head back to stare at the ceiling. Even without trying Sherlock managed to distract John from his own problems. He knew that the loss of his own child was very raw and he and Mary had rough times ahead. But he also knew with the responsibility of their child friend it wouldn't be as bad as it could have been if it was all they were thinking about. Where they going to be a good replacement? He had no doubt that Sherlock was a difficult child. He was a difficult adult, and it didn't help how his parents treated him. But he knew that he couldn't give up on his friend as everyone else had done.

John started from his thoughts as the figure on his chest began to stir. He studied him, as the little boy yawned sweetly his blue grey eyes starting to open, still blurry with sleep.

"My?"His high pitched voice questioned before he stiffened. Finally realizing he wasn't with his big brother. The boy skittered backwards. John grabbed him enough to place him so he wouldn't crash to the floor before releasing him and allowing the boy to push himself backwards looking at him fearfully.

"Don' wha'ever I did 'm sorry." John would probably have awed at how cute Sherlock's speech was. He couldn't seem to say his t's very well and had a little lisp. But the moment was lost by the words the child did say. It was that bad that he was apologizing for nothing, the doctor wanted to growl but he held it in focusing on the child.

John put his hands out in a surrender gesture before sliding to the floor, sitting indian style.

"I'm not going to hurt you Sherlock." He said quietly.

An angry look tinged Sherlock's face. "How' d you know my name? Where's Mycrof?!"

How was he going to explain this to a child? Especially one that was an adult a few hours ago. As he reached for an answer the boys eyes darted, he appeared to be trying to deduce what was going on, and his breathing quickened when he realized he couldn't.

"Sherlock I need you to breath deeper and slow it down. Can you do that for me?"

The boys breathing quickened, he was paling which darkened his bruises on his skin. His eyes no longer stayed in one place. Throwing caution to the wind John slid over to the boy picking him up. Ignoring the huge flinch the boy gave, he placed the boys hand against his chest and his own hand against the boys.

"Sherlock can you feel me breathing? Copy me. You need to calm down please." Finally realizing that the stranger seemed to be trying to help, Sherlock did as he was asked and calmed his breathing. Still gasping a bit, he never the less didn't have John worried he was going to pass out anytime soon.

"To answer your questions, your brother had you removed from your parents. He didn't like that they were hurting you. We are friends of his and he decided that we would be able to take care of you better." Not completely a lie but the whole truth would probably be damaging.

Sherlock looked at him, eyes sad and just a little bit wet. "He didn' wan' me ei'her?" He asked almost too quiet to hear.

"No, that's not it. He works for the government. He's gone to much, he didn't want you to be alone either. I know you don't know me or my wife and have no reason to trust us. But just keep in your mind that your brother picked us out to care for you."

"Wife?" The small voice piped up.

"Yes her name is Mary. She went out with our landlady to get you some clothes, so you don't have to stay wrapped in the blanket. You were hurt, and Mycroft got you out, but he didn't bring anything with him."

Sherlock nodded a bit, before scooting himself backwards into the corner again. He continued to study John but said nothing more. John wondered if he should speak or what he should do. Finally he decided that perhaps Sherlock would do something normal for himself. He figured the safest would be to offer him a book. Standing slowly and moving carefully away from the watchful boy he moved to Sherlock's bookshelves. Scanning them he found a dusty chemistry book on the bottom shelf. Pulling it out he realized it was a high school book. He wondered on Sherlock keeping something so old, but filed it away for something else to ask the adult Sherlock when he came back. Turning he focused on the present Sherlock whose big eyes were staring fearfully up at him, flinching unconsciously at every step John took towards him. Stopping a couple feet away, he went to his knees before slowly reaching the book out to the boy.

"Something to look at while we wait?" He offered. He watched the calculations cross Sherlock's face. Should he trust this man? No but he hadn't harmed him yet and he was offering him a book. Normally it would have been thrown at him. Taking a breath, and deciding to be brave for My, he reached out a hand and took the book. Snatching it and backing up eyes closed waiting. After several moments when nothing happened he opened his eyes to see John looking at him sadly. For some reason deep down Sherlock didn't like seeing the man so sad. Unable to quite understand it he decided he wanted to make him feel better.

"Thank you siw." He said quietly, feeling lighter when a small smile came to the man's face.

"You're welcome Sherlock. But you can call me John. I probably should have introduced myself before. Stupid me." Again Sherlock felt the need to step in.

"No' s'upid, jus busy." He mumbled, lightening when once again the man smiled.

"Hmm I suppose you are right. But that doesn't surprise me. Anyway I am John Watson."

"Pleasure." Sherlock nodded his head, John nearly laughed at how adult Sherlock it was but instead nodded back. "I'll let you get to your book while I make a spot of tea and some biscuits.

He hated the look of betrayal that longing and sadness that crossed Sherlock's face before it went into a mask almost like his adult one. He simply nodded and opened his book.

John went into the kitchen to make something up. Wondering about the face before he nearly slapped himself for being stupid again. Sherlock had been denied food to the point he had an eating disorder as an adult. Of course when he heard someone mention food he assumed someone was just going to eat it in front of him. Really wishing he'd taken a shot at the parents like Mary had, he focused on pouring the tea and pulling adult Sherlock's favorite Chocolate biscuits out and piling them on a plate. Hopefully he'd eat a few and they could start putting weight on him.

Walking back into the living room, he smiled as he saw the deep look of concentration on the boys face. His nose was scrunched adorably and he was mouthing the words along as he read them. He saw the fleeting look that Sherlock gave the biscuits and John before focusing back on his book, his shoulders suddenly hunched.

"Sherlock, time for tea and biscuits." He sat down, studiously ignoring the wide eyed curious look directed at him.

He poured the tea in each cup placing the amount of sugar the adult Sherlock took and placing it in front of the boy. Then taking a biscuit for himself he pushed the plate over in front of the boy as well. Looking up he noticed Sherlock still staring at him. A bit fearfully now.

"I know what your parents did and what they said. But they were wrong. You need to eat and here you are allowed too. Whenever you're hungry I want you to tell me." John supposed he was going a bit fast but then again he was sure that these things were going to be repeated more than once so might as well get started now. He noticed Sherlock still hesitating.

"Go on, my hands are full." He held up his biscuit and teacup."Nothing I can do."

Hesitantly Sherlock nodded, before quickly snaking a hand out and grabbing one of the sweets. Still studying John, he reverently put the book aside and holding it in both hands he began to nibble. After a couple of those he reached out and took a sip of tea, looking at John in amazement.

"How' you know I like i' like 'his?" He lisped.

"I deduced." John said waggling his eyebrows. Sherlock gave a tiny smile, showing a gap where his front left tooth should be.

The boys then finished their snack in peace. Sherlock quietly told John what he had been reading about after a bit of prompting on the man's part. Sitting on the floor talking chemistry is where Mary and found them when they came home, arms full from the shops.

"Hello dears!" Mrs. Hudson said breezing in. Sherlock jumped up at the sight of new people and moved until he was standing behind John, looking warily out from behind him. Heartened that Sherlock already saw him as safe...or at least the safest person in the room, he turned to the two woman smiling in greeting.

"Hello. Sherlock and I were just having a snack and getting acquainted." He turned and kneeled before Sherlock who looked at him warily.

"This is my wife and our landlady I was telling you about." Sherlock's eyebrows twitched as if to say idiot but he simply nodded his head.

"I know I know you deduced that. But there is no reason to be afraid. Now over there in the red jacket is my wife Mary." Sherlock waved a bit. "And that is our landlady." At the sight of Mrs. Hudson Sherlock got an odd look on his face. He stepped out from behind John and walked right up to her. She had placed the bags down and bent down to be face to face with the child.

"Hello dear."

John was heartened to see the tiny smile come back. "You can make biscui's!" He announced as fact.

"Why yes dear, would you like to make some with me sometime?"

Sherlock had a look of awe upon his face. "You'd le' me help?" Then it got serious. "BU' I would ruin i'. Mummy n daddy says so." He added sadly.

Mrs. Hudson, pulled the boy into a hug. "They were wrong. You don't ruin anything, you make it better. We will make biscuits and they'll be the best anyone has tasted."

Sherlock stood back tilting his head a bit, before dipping his head in ascent and then backing back towards John. From there he began to study Mary. He wasn't sure how he felt about her. She seemed nice, what he could deduce about her was nice. But there was something else, something dangerous. He wasn't sure what to make of it, he shot a pleading look at John.

It's alright, she had a dangerous job once. But now she's a nurse, a wife and with you here, a mother." He said poking the boy in the nose. Who just wrinkled it and looked at him almost offended. At that John couldn't help but laugh. Sherlock looked affronted at that. But in the end just shook his head and rolled his eyes at Mrs. Hudson who in turn had a giggle. Sherlock seemed pleased by this before turning his attention back to Mary, who had been busily unpacking things from the store while letting the boy talk with the other two. She slowed to a stop and looked down as he shuffled up to her.

"Hello Sherlock." She said quietly as he read her face. Seeming to like what he saw, he reached out a hand which she gently took in her own. She tried to hide the sadness at how thin and fragile they were.

"Why are you sad?" He asked curiously.

"Oh honey, I just wish we'd been able to help you before." He looked startled at her answer and blushed a bit.

"Why?"

Mary's voice caught and she looked to John for help.

"Because." He said. "No one deserves to be treated like you were."

"If you say so." The boy said dubiously.

THe three adults looked at each other. This would not be easy.

The rest of the evening was spent getting Sherlock in proper pj's. Getting him to eat dinner, which he tried to refuse saying that he wasn't hungry after the biscuits, when they could clearly hear his stomach growling. When John had called him on it, he had shrunk back hands in front of his face.

"Please don' hur' me. M sowwy I jus don' wan' my brain 'o slow down or I'll be even s'upider."

Gently John had taken his hands in his running a thumb comfortingly over the back of Sherlock's tiny hand.

"I will never hurt you. But you need to eat. You're brain will slow down. You need nutrients to keep it healthy. I will bring you a book and prove it too you tomorrow." Sherlock had looked at him startled then. Debating with himself he finally agreed and ate a few spoonfuls of the chicken soup Mary had bought for him, knowing his shrunken stomach wouldn't handle much else. Satisfied that Sherlock had eaten as much as he could in that moment.

Next came bed time. It was just as much of a nightmare as it was when Sherlock was an adult. Except this Sherlock was too afraid to leave the bed. He just lay tossing and turning. At their wits end, Mary had a sudden idea. Going in she sat on the bed with Sherlock who stared at her waiting.

"Come here love." She said, shuffling over slowly he knelt next to her. She pulled him up into her lap, studiously ignoring his flinch. She lay his head on her chest over her heart and gently began to rock him. When John came in ten minutes later to check on him, the two were fast asleep. Sherlock's hand fisted in Mary's shirt and the woman holding the boy tightly. John snapped a picture with his phone before going and laying on the couch. That way he could hear if one of them needed him.

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Several parter. I kind of want to do chapters based on things the Watson's can do with him as a child. You know zoo's, parks, etc. Anything you want to see just PM me or note it in your review. Thanks for reading hope you enjoyed the first installment.

R&R