Sherlock knocked on the door to 221B and for the first time in his life felt timid. He had let himself into the hall way, and although he still held a key felt that social curtsey required him to knock.
Not that there are any specific social curtseys that should be respected by those returning from the dead. And if there were Sherlock wasn't the type of person who would follow them.
However this was different. This was John.
He didn't want to scare the doctor as he wasn't sure how much grief John was still experiencing. The odd scrapes and shoe marks on the stairs bore the tell-tale signs of a drunk, staggering up and slipping down the steps. As did the scratches around the lock, clearly someone with shaking hands trying to insert their key. It also didn't bypass Sherlock that the shoe scrapes were old, and there weren't nearly enough marks on either the floor or the lock to suggest long periods of intoxicated nights. All in all it was obvious that John had grieved and dealt with this through drink, then managed to overcome his sadness, at least manageably, relatively quickly. This, however, contrasted with the frequency of which John still visited his grave. This left the consultant detective to once again ponder the conundrum of John Watson.
Sherlock could hear shuffling inside the flat in response to his knocking then a key turning in the lock, before the door swung open.
He opened his mouth to begin the carefully rehearsed speech he had prepared for John. However upon looking down he saw a mop of dark curls, not too dissimilar from his own, and not the soft blond hair he had been anticipating.
The owner of said hair lifted his head and asked politely, "Are you here to see Daddy?"
Sherlock was stunned, another emotion he couldn't recall having experienced before. The boy, for he was only very young, gazed up at him with large green eyes filled with curiosity. Sherlock tried to deduce a reason for the boy being there and for him using the term 'Daddy' obviously referencing John. He bore no resemblance to John himself meaning he only had one theory left. That the doctor had adopted this child. This was highly improbable, however it must be the case as he had eliminated the impossible.
"Ben who's at the door?" Came a voice, John's voice from somewhere inside the apartment. Sherlock's head snapped up at the sound of his flatmates voice and at the same time his practiced speech left his head. He breathed out and spoke in barley a whisper. "John."
Having not received a response from Ben John came striding into view from the kitchen. "Ben I asked…" His voice trailed off as he caught sight of Sherlock framed in the doorway.
"John." Sherlock repeated louder this time.
"Sherlock." Came the breathy response.
The two men stood staring at each other. Ben looking between John's wide mouth and Sherlock's apologetic expression trying to work out the connection.
There was a long pause before John spoke.
"But you…Y-y-you're…It's not…"
"Really John isn't it obvious I'm not dead, nor was I ever."
"But I-I saw you fall."
"It was just a trick. Just a magic trick."
John stumbled clearly just coming to terms with Sherlock being alive. He grabbed the sofa and sat down clumsily.
"Daddy!" Ben yelled as he watched. He ran to the sofa closely followed by Sherlock. The door slamming shut behind them.
After Sherlock made tea, at which was commented "You've changed.", and John had recovered from his initial fright, they all sat down to talk. First they brought Ben up to speed with the past events, and the detective was surprised at how easily the boy understood and handled all the information.
"Well Sherlock I wont ask how you did it, I really don't want to relive that day even if you didn't rally die." John set his, now empty, tea cup down.
"Sorry I didn't really introduce him before, this is Ben, Benedict." He motioned to the boy snuggled against his side who was eying Sherlock warily.
"Why did you adopt?" Queried the detective, he was ashamed that he couldn't work this out for himself but still wanted to know.
Only Ben looked surprised that Sherlock knew that, but didn't comment. "I was so alone after you…left," Began John "and Ben was alone too. His parents died under suspicious circumstances and the police weren't any help. So he brought the case to us, well me. The website was still running at that time. I was either too wasted or too hung-over to care. I tried to help with his case but couldn't. I can't do what you do, whilst I was trying though we grew fond of each other. Ben helped me work through my grief. He had nowhere else to go so it made sense that I adopt him. I think Mycroft helped with the legal side of things they went very smoothly."
Sherlock paused, deleting irrelevant information and sorting the rest. Then turned to Benedict, "So where's this case you've got for me?"
The boy untangled himself from around John and set off upstairs. "When examining the police reports lots of things don't add up. I found several of their conclusions to be inaccurate however the police wouldn't listen to me. Come on, the files are all in my bedroom."
Sherlock set off after him, idly thinking that upstairs led to John's room. Meaning John must have taken his room when Ben arrived, so where was he supposed to sleep? Instead of pondering this thought however he turned his mind to the current case. Oh how he'd missed this life with his blogger.
John's gaze followed the pair upstairs listening to them discuss the idiocy of the police force. He was exhausted. It had been a weird afternoon, but not the weirdest 221B had encountered, but still in the top ten what with: Sherlock not being dead. Sherlock voluntarily making tea. And Sherlock interacting with a child.
He got up from the sofa to put the kettle on again. Thinking he could get used to this new Sherlock, and the idea of the three of them living together brought a smile to his face.