A/N: after watching "Breathe", I just couldn't resist writing this. It's pretty fluffy but I hope you all like it! Bonus points for anyone who can figure out where I got Joan's son's name, because I'll admit to being awful at coming up with names myself lol. (Hint: see Joan's favorite author mentioned in ep 1x06).

xxxx

Sherlock sat at the kitchen table with case files spread out around him. He was studying the files while keeping an eye on the boy across from him. The child was working on his homework, so Sherlock kept him in the same room so they'd both stay on task. It was slightly distracting, constantly ensuring the boy was still working diligently, but Sherlock found he didn't mind the distraction.

Watson was out for the evening, having dinner with her sister. Though she had offered to get a sitter for her son, Sherlock had assured her he would quite like some quality time with the child. Watson had warily agreed.

The boys had spent the better part of the evening in the living room, Sherlock teaching the boy how to pick several different locks. He was quite pleased with how quickly the boy caught on. He was proving to be nearly as good a pupil as his mother had been. Sherlock wished he could spend the entirety of the evening teaching the boy his tricks. However, as part of the deal for letting the boys stay home alone together, Sherlock had promised Watson he would make sure the boy's homework was finished before his mother returned. So, to their mutual displeasure, the boys had recently moved to the kitchen to get some work done.

Glancing across the table at the child's paper, Sherlock was impressed to see how much progress his handwriting had made. Across the top of the page he had written "Alex Li Watson". It was quite a bit more legible than the last time Sherlock had seen Alex write his name, and Sherlock was struck by how quickly the boy was growing up. Had it really been nine years since Watson had brought him home? The time was passing too quickly. Displeased by that thought, Sherlock returned his attention to the files in front of him.

A few minutes later, Sherlock heard Alex's pencil cease marking up his paper. He assumed the boy was stuck on a problem. After a short pause, Alex said, "Uncle Sherlock?" Sherlock looked up from his files inquiringly, nodding for the boy to continue. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course, Alex," Sherlock said, putting the files aside with an indulgent smile. He assumed the boy wanted help with his homework. "What is it?"

Alex gave him a furtive glance and then looked away, as if he were afraid to ask whatever was on his mind. Sherlock's interest grew as he realized the boy must be wondering about more than just his homework. After a few awkward seconds, Alex asked, "how did you and my mom meet?"

Sherlock was momentarily stunned by the question, unexpected as it was. As the boy was growing up, Sherlock and Watson had skirted the issue of their past, never bringing up how they'd ended up in their relatively unconventional living situation. They'd always treated their living situation as normal, and Alex had never questioned it. He knew his "Uncle Sherlock" was his mom's friend and working partner, but not much more. So far he had never asked. But Alex was growing up, and Sherlock should have figured Alex would notice that his living situation wasn't the same as those of his friends. He was a bright child and was bound to ask questions at some point.

Figuring the boy wasn't old enough to hear the full story of his drug use and the boy's mother's role in his early struggle with sobriety, Sherlock sought for a way to explain their meeting to the boy, deliberately obscuring the details without lying.

After a pause, Sherlock realized Alex was staring at him with wide eyes, waiting for an answer with plaintive childhood curiosity. Sherlock coughed and shifted in his chair to buy himself some time, finally saying, "many years ago I was going through a hard time in my life, and your mother..." He paused before continuing, "she helped me through it. It was her job at the time, helping people like me who needed someone like her." Sherlock stopped, wondering if that would be enough of an explanation for the curious boy. It felt inadequate, as Joan Watson had done far more than simply "help" him, but Sherlock was unsure of how much to say to the boy. It was never easy for him to put his relationship with Watson into simple words.

The introspective look on Alex's face reflected gears turning in his head as he absorbed what he had been told. After a few seconds, Alex asked, "does she still help you?"

Sherlock smiled to himself. "Not in the same way. But yes, she still helps me. In many more ways than one."

Alex mirrored his smile. Apparently satisfied, the boy returned to his homework and Sherlock returned to his case files.

The boys continued their separate tasks in silence for awhile. Eventually, Joan returned home and saw their silhouetted forms through the kitchen window. She smiled to herself. She knew her boys got along well, though they rarely got to spend much time alone together. They had both seemed excited at the prospect of staying together tonight, so Joan was loathe to interrupt their quiet work. She slipped in the front door, closing it as quietly as possible, hoping to observe them for a bit before either noticed she was home. She listened for a reaction to her presence and was pleased that neither of them responded. They hadn't noticed her return.

The boys were both oblivious to Joan's return, each lost in their own musings. Deep in his files, Sherlock was singularly focused on a cold case that had been bothering him. Alex was mulling over what he had been told, trying to decide whether it was okay to ask anything more.

Sherlock was momentarily unaware that Alex had finished his homework and was looking at him again. After drumming his fingers for a few seconds and not getting a response, Alex again said "Uncle Sherlock?"

Sherlock was thoroughly engrossed in a case. Without looking up, he hummed "hmmm?"

After a guilty pause, Alex blurted "do you love my mom?"

Joan, still on the other side of the wall but well within earshot, stifled a gasp. She thought of intervening and momentarily considered sweeping into the kitchen to save Sherlock from answering. But she was too slow.

Sherlock never looked up from his file, and answered without a pause or a thought, "of course I do."

Alex considered that for a moment, then asked, "then why aren't you married?"

Sherlock abruptly realized what he had just said. He dropped the file and looked up at Alex, a guilty look on his face, his cheeks flushing. "I... um..." Sherlock flustered, unsure of what to say. What had he just said? What had he admitted? Had he just admitted... He loved Watson? Why had he said that? Why hadn't he taken a second to think about his response before answering Alex's question? Why had his automatic response been to answer affirmatively? Sherlock's head was spinning. He had no answer to the boy's latest inquiry.

On the other side of the wall, Joan's heart raced. Had she heard that right? Did Sherlock just say... he loves her? Joan shook her head and told herself that couldn't be right. That would be... Crazy. She must have misheard. With a deep cleansing breath, Joan opened and closed the front door again, alerting the boys to her presence before things could get any more out of hand.

At the sound of the door closing, Sherlock jumped up, looking guilty. Watson was home. Just in time to spare him from having to come up with an answer for Alex. Just in time to spare him from having to face his own response. For now.

As Joan rounded the corner into the kitchen, Sherlock was still stunned. His heart was beating far too fast. He worked to school his emotions, trying not to give Watson any hint of what they had just been talking about.

"Ah, Watson, you're home," he said, a bit too loudly. "How was dinner?"

Joan was similarly trying to still the beating of her own heart and control her expressions to remain neutral. It took her a moment to answer. "It was geat," she said, with a bit too much brightness. "It was nice to have some sister time." Moving to where her son sat at the table, she ruffled Alex's hair. "Aunt Lin says hi," she said with an indulgent smile, which Alex returned.

Alex picked up the papers that lay in front of him and handed them to his mom. "I finished my homework mama," he said.

"That's great," Joan said, taking the papers to make sure everything was complete. She was aware of Sherlock's eyes on her as she scanned the papers. She didn't think he knew she had overheard, but she wasn't sure. When she was satisfied with Alex's work, she looked up at Sherlock and met his gaze. He was staring at her with a curious look on his face, as if he couldn't quite figure her out. She blushed despite herself and looked back at Alex. Needing to fill the awkward silence, Joan asked, "Did Uncle Sherlock help you with your homework?"

The sound of his name brought Sherlock out of his internal toil back to the present. He whipped around the table and put a confident hand on Alex's shoulder. "I did not," Sherlock said with pride, "young Alex did it all on his own. The credit belongs to him."

Alex beamed. Joan smiled. "Alright Alex," she insisted, "time to get ready for bed young man." Alex groaned, but Joan ushered him toward the stairs nonetheless.

When he was gone, Sherlock and Joan found themselves momentarily alone in the kitchen. To his dismay and confusion, Sherlock's heart was racing again. He wouldn't meet her eyes.

Joan looked at him for a long moment. She thought of how exited Alex had been to "hang out with Uncle Sherlock" tonight, and how proud Alex had looked when Sherlock complimented him. Although their living situation was unconventional and presented problems at times, Sherlock was a good role model for the boy. He was always willing to teach Alex anything he wanted to know, no matter how much patience it took. It seemed to her that two of them got closer every year. Even though teachers and other parents would always look at her suspiciously, silently questioning the home life they had built for Alex, Joan marveled at how lucky she and Alex were to have Sherlock around. She was suddenly overcome with fondness for both her boys, especially the older one who would undoubtedly lay down his life for her and her son.

Before Sherlock had a chance to escape, Joan moved closer to him. He looked up at her in surprise, but she ignored him. She leaned in and placed a small kiss on his cheek, then moved her mouth next to his ear.

"I love you too, Sherlock," she whispered before disappearing up the stairs after her son.