Hello everyone! This is the new and updated sequel to my other Sherlock fan fiction 'The bloodline'. You are aware of that I started another sequel to TBL called 'Death do not do us apart' but since I lost the inspiration (I couldn't write on it at all) and didn't really have a good plot for it; I decided to make a remake and thus, it became this (with the help of the lovelyJensen's Petunia here on ). I really hope you will like this new story more than the other sequel, and that you will like it as a continuation of 'The bloodline'. Just a quick reminder. It has been about four or five years since Sherlock's death and since werewolf children (in my universe) grow faster than regular children Tim and Astrid are now eleven and eight years old respectively. Just thought I should remind you of that if you had forgotten. :)

Reviews are very much welcome as always! ~ erithwolf


The sunlight basked its seemingly soft light through the white jalousie that covered John Watson's window. The now awake army doctor slowly opened his eyes with a loud grunt. He was quite annoyed by the sunlight and the fact that his newly bought blinds didn't hinder the light from seeping into his room. John Watson sat straight up on his bed and stared blankly into the nothingness that was his room before he slowly raised himself up from the bed. He went to his desk and greeted his long-lost lover Sherlock like he always did, every morning. It hadn't been a day since the death of his life that he hadn't greetedthe photo of them together with the wolf-pack. Two of his lover'sbest friends were dead; Gregory Lestrade and Molly Hooper. Their frozen, smiling faces stared back at John and the army doctor replied to their forever frozen smiles with a smile of his own, though it didn't reach his eyes. He hadn't been smiling with his eyes since the day his lover left him. How many years was it now since the doomsday? Four? Five? He had almost lost count. The years had just been flying away in front of him – like everything else. He had seen his children growing from age to age, he had been celebrating four birthdays – both at home and at Mycroft's, he had been abroad with them, they had visited Sweden a year after he had finished his book, France - two years after the finishing of the book and later publication of his book, Italy - three years after his unwanted fame and the finishing of the book(his book with the drawings had gotten very positively acclaimed and he had been at signings and whatnot, the people read it as fiction though and no one believed that the story he had written was real) and last, Norway, four years after the book was finished.

This year, the fifth year after the finishing of his book, the Watson family weren't going to go abroad anywhere. Father Watson had been thinking about leaving London, England and to move somewhere else, where the pain of Sherlock didn't hurt him as much as it did right now, though he didn't know what to do yet about it, his children's uncle and pack-mates were living here after all and he wasn't sure his children wanted to leave them just yet.

John had come to the recognition that even though he cherished his children and loved them with his whole heart– nothing was the same without Sherlock. He couldn't treasure his life the same way as he had done when he was with Sherlock and the thought saddened him a bit. He had his children, he was still in contact with Mycroft and Anderson and they hung out every now and then, but the thought of those things didn't make him thoroughly happy. The only thing that could make him as happy as ever was the one thing he could never have again. Sherlock. The sound of dripping tears against photograph-paper jerked John back to reality, away from his everyday thoughts about his lost lover. He stared at the torn picture he held in his left hand and let the tears streaming from his eyes fall freely. He didn't want to wipe them away, they were a friendly reminder to him that he was still alive. John stared at the picture for a moment before the all too familiar excruciating pain in his chest exploded like a newly lit bonfire. John groaned from the pain, his vision getting a bit blurred, his legs shaking as he wiggled where he was standing. He took a tight grip of the desk to not fall down on the floor (like he had done the day before) and took several deep breaths to try to get the pain away while he had his right hand tightly pressed against his heart. This ritual happened on almost a daily basis now. He believed that the pain in his chest was something that had to do with the death of Sherlock, probably a mate thing and the doctor didn't want to explore it further. Not now, at least.

The pain in his chest eased up a bit and he was able to walk and move away from the desktop and out of his room. He tiptoed his way to the bathroom as he didn't want to wake up his children yet. It was their first day of summer holiday and he had promised them to sleep a little longer. They needed their sleep after all, Astrid was eleven years old – soon to be twelve and Tim was eight years old. Tim hadn't been ageing as he should have, even though he should have been around ten years old now, he still looked like an eight or seven year old by his appearance. If someone asked John how old his children were, he usually told them that Astrid was eleven and Tim eight – just to avoid confusion.

John tiptoed into the bathroom and sat down on the small stool in the shower(that was left since he had been in a wheelchair). He turned on the water and let the fluid wash over his naked body, his body that wore scars from a serial killer, his body that wore memories of a dead man. John let out a quiet grunt when his chest started hurting again. He pushed his hand to his hurting heart while he leaned his forehead against the wet mosaic wall. He felt the muscle moving quickly underneath his skin and bones, each beat telling him that he was alive and would continue to be until the day of his death, telling him that the muscle of life would continue to beat– even though the colours of his vision had ran out and turned grey, even though his very existence to keep on living was gone. How do you keep on living when the one thing that made you feel alive, the one thing that made you feel loved, the one thing that made you feel beautiful and happy is gone?


Later, same day...


The silvery moonlight basked down at Mycroft's private graveyard. The silvery light touched the different graves of the generations of the Holmes family. Before the full moon vanished behind a dark cloud, it basked its last rays of light on a grave that was still in good shape even though it had been standing there for a couple of years. When the moon went behind a cloud, something started to stir inside the grave. Suddenly a big, dark brown furry paw popped out of the mud, then another just as big as the first one popped up, together they started digging through the mud with sharp claws. In a matter of seconds, a big and furry wolf head popped up and surveyed the area with glowing, amber coloured eyes. It jumped up from the deep hole and when it had reached the ground, it shook the mud out of its fur and started trotting towards the Holmes mansion, like digging itself out of a grave was nothing special.

"As expected..."Mycroft whispered as he saw his younger brother standing in the entry, waiting for a sign to go inside on a TV-screen. Mycroft opened the big door and Sherlock went in. When he was inside, he transformed back into his human-form.

"I've missed you so much..." Mycroft whispered when his brother came into the doorway and embraced him tightly. "I have been waiting all these years for you to come back..." he added, digging his fingers deeply into Sherlock's damp hair.

"I have missed you too brother,"Sherlock murmured, answering the hug.

"For a moment I thought you were never coming back, but yesterday, when the Moon showed its full face for me, I suddenly knew. I knew that you were coming back,"Mycroft murmured and let go of his brother's embrace. Sherlock nodded slowly and scratched his ear.

"My body has been well preserved, thank you," Sherlock said quietly, kissing his brother's cheek with his dry lips.

"No problem at all, brother dear," Mycroft replied, stroking his cheek carefully.
"I assume you would like to have something to eat and to clean yourself?"he asked, smiling warmly.

"Yes, that would indeed be nice," Sherlock said and Mycroft nodded.

"So shall it be. I would like you to tell me everything that you have been through these years in the Other world after you have washed and areeating."Mycroft added, his younger brother nodding as an answer.

"Of course," he said and went away to the luxury shower. Anthena prepared some food for him while he was in the shower and Mycroft watched her every moment. He would never let anything happen to her; he would not fail her as he had Lestrade. Sherlock quickly came back into the room, disrupting Mycroft from his thoughts. Sherlock's skin was glistening with white again, his curls back to their ordinary lush brown colour and his right eye now sparkling with life. His left eye though, was still just a hole.

"You look great, brother dear," Mycroft said when he saw his sat down at the big table and ate to his heart's content.

"Would you like to tell me now?" Mycroft asked when Sherlock had finished eating and the younger man nodded.

"When I passed away, I was greeted with open arms by Fenrir. He told me how glad he was that I finally had joined him and he instantly wanted me to get properly dressed for the cleansing process, although I told him that I did not want to be cleansed yet. I wanted to mourn over that I had been slaughtered to death, and to mourn that I would never meet my children nor seeJohn again. He let me mourn for a week, then he told me that I needed to be cleansed, which I was soon enough. Later on, we ran over the green fields of Forever for five years. I had no thirst nor hunger, my body did not tire out and by each year that passed, my body got stronger and it slowly began to heal itself. At the last month of the seventh year, I asked Fenrir if I could be allowed to go back to this world, because I have children and a husband that need me and that I did not want to leave them just yet. He burst out in anger. He told me that I belonged to him and the Other world and that I would not be accepted to return to this world, even though I wanted to. I believed him at first, though I mulled it over for a year before I came to the conclusion that I was able to return, since my role here was not finished. I told Fenrir about my conclusion and the next night, he said that I was allowed to return, though he would miss me deeply. I embraced him like an old friend and said that I would return soon enough, but together with my children and husband. I also told him that I had plans on transforming John into one of us, and he thought it was a good thought, since John won't be able to come to the Other world if he is not one of us," Sherlock explained, his hands closed in a prayer-like gesture. His gaze rested on Mycroft.

Mycroft looked at his brother in awe. He would love to meet Fenrir and to run with him over the fields of Forever, though he knew it was too early for him to do so yet.

"I am glad you were able and allowed to resurrect," said Mycroft with a warm smile playing on his returned the smile and put his hand over Mycroft's.

"I am here again and I will not be leaving for quite a long time,"the younger brother said and the elder brother nodded, his eyes a bit misty. Sherlock stroked his hand softly and looked down at the table.

"Do... John still live at 221B? How is Astrid doing? And my second child? How old are they now? Can I see them?"Sherlock asked, his head suddenly filled with millions of questions about the ones he loved the most.

"John still lives at 221B, though he told me yesterday when we spoke that he is thinking about moving away from London, in fact from the whole of England because he can't deal with the pain of not having you in his life anymore. I have not seen Astrid for about a month now, although I think she is doing perfectly fine. Your second child is named Tim and as with Astrid, I have not seen him for quite a while, although I am sure that he is doing perfectly fine as well. Astrid is elven years old now, soon to be twelve while Tim is eight years old. Though he is actually eleven years old. John tells everyone he is eight due to his size. I am not sure if you can see them right now as it would be quite a shock for everyone if you just came by and knock on their door," Mycroft stated and Sherlock chuckled a little.

"Yes... I understand I cannot do that. But why would John do that? He is our son and even though he looks like eight years old, he should still be referred as eleven years old." Sherlock said.
"I agree with you brother, but you ought to talk with John about that." Mycroft said. Sherlock nodded, it suddenly looked like he was pondering over something else.

"John... Does he have... a new lover or..something?" Sherlock asked after a couple of minutes, seemingly nervous of the answerand annoyed by the thought of John being with someone else.

"I do not know, brother dear. John hasnot visited me for a month now and even if he had a lover, I don't think he would speak to me about it. I think he would rather speak with Anderson about concerns like that. So I would not know about it. You could call him I guess, though it would be better to meet him in person... I think the best thing you could do right now is to call Anderson and make him answer your questions. He knows the answers far better than me," Mycroft said. He didn't want to tell Sherlock about the 'thing' that happened earlier today, and he didn't want to tell him that his children in fact were sleeping in his estate.

"All right. Uh... May I borrow your phone?" Sherlock asked and Mycroft chuckled at his brother's dullness.

"Of course, brother dear," he said softly and handed Sherlock his phone. Sherlock stared at it for a moment with excitement before typing to Anderson:

I think you are aware that I am revived. I think we should meet up tomorrow at your house.Does threeo'clock sounds good to you? Please answer as fast as you can. - SH

That is right my old buddy! God, I never thought I would receive a text from you again! Three o'clock is great for me. You are very welcome! - Anderson

"What did he say?" Mycroft asked softly when Sherlock's mobile phone gave off a buzz.

"He said that it is perfectly fine that I'm coming to him tomorrow",Sherlock replied and smiled at his brother. Mycroft nodded slowly and softly put his hands on both sides of his baby brother's head. Sherlock looked at him and gave him a small smile.

"I am so relieved and so glad that you have returned brother dear. I really am. I thought I would never see you again..." Mycroft whispered slowly, his eyes gleaming a bit by the tears in the corner of his eyes, threatening to flow over any second. He stroked away a dark brown curl from Sherlock's face, then he gave his brother a kiss on his forehead. A soft sob could be heard from Mycroft as he released Sherlock's head. Sherlock stretched out his arms and hugged his brother tightly.

"It's unnatural for me to see you cry..."Sherlock murmured softly against his brother's neck. "You haven't been crying since... Since mummy died..." he added and closed his eyes. Hedrew the familiar smell of his brother into his lungs. Mycroft's smell was home for him. He was finally home. In one of homes anyway, John was his other home...


Earlier that day...


"Daddy, how are you?" Astrid asked her father as the man came limping out from the bathroom; his face looked like "Ghost face" from Scream. She was dressed in an all too big Kiss shirt, probably 'stolen' from John's wardrobe.

"Oh Astrid, my dear" he said softly to his daughter. Hesquatted down in front of her and hugged her tightly with one arm, the other one held onto a towel that covered his genitalia. Astrid hugged him back with her thin arms. "I am doing so-so..." John replied after a while, he didn't like to lie to his children.

"Why only so-so?"Astrid asked with a worried gaze and released him. Her eyes had the same colors as his, grey tinted with a light blue color.

"I am thinking about your fatherand it saddens me." John said truthfully and kissed her red, curly scalp before going with small steps to his room.

Astrid followed him.

"Why does it sadden you? You know he is still with you and will always be." Astrid said while she jumped up on his bed, watching her father dressing himself in a wine-red knitted jumper with white deer-prints and dark blue jeans.

John scrubbed his hair with the towel before answering.

"I know dear, it is just that I don't have him here..."said John and gestured with his arms in front of him. "... with me."

Astrid nodded. Sheunderstood what he meant and she wanted to have her second father here as much as John wanted to as well.

John sat down on the bed beside her.

"Though I am so glad I've got you and Tim, you're so much like him and you remindme of him every day, in a good way of course." John said and caressed his daughters red, long curly hair.

Astrid smiled at him and put her arms around him, hugging him again.

"I love you daddy, I love you so much.", she said and Johnfelt a sting of warmth and love in his stomach.

"I love you too Astrid." he said and held her tight to his chest. The pair just sat and hugged for a couple of minutes before John asked Astrid if she knew Tim was awake but she didn't know.

"Then let's go and wake him up." John said and took hold of Astrid's hand; together they went to Tim's bedroom.

"What would you like to eat for a very late breakfast?" John asked his children as they sat down by the table.

"Pancakes." Tim said at once.

"Nooo please, not pancakes!"Astrid said with aversion in her voice. They had eaten pancakes for breakfast two days in a row and she was tired of it.

"No pancakes all right." John said, watching his two children on each side of the table.

Tim stretched out his tongue at his sister and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Then I don't want anything to eat."he said stubbornly.

"You've got to eat my love, otherwise you won't grow." John said with slight worry in his voice. Tim hadn't been eating properly the last few days and he had gotten a bit thin.

"I don't want to eat anything otherthan pancakes."he said with a pout, staring angrily at his sister with his green/blue eyes. He looked exactly like Sherlock, just much younger. The sight of Sherlock inside his child made John's eyes tearup.
He quickly turned around to grab some paper to wipe them away, when thepain in his chest struck him like a bolt of lightning. The sudden pain caused John to fall helplessly down on the floor.

"Dad!"Astrid and Tim screamed in unison and came running to him. They put their hands on his back and looked at him worriedly. Tim tried to fight off tears that had started to flow from his eyes.

"Call Un...Uncle Mycroft and 999... Hurry..." John managed to say, the pain almost too much, making it hard for him to speak properly. Astrid hurried up on her legs and ran to the telephone to dial 999. The fear of losing the only father she had left made her skin burn hot. Shestarted to see black blobs in front of her eyes when she felt a transformation to wolf was near. She quickly dialled 999 and explained where they were and what had happened before she couldn't hinder the transformation any longer. Her limbs started to crack and transform, her spine grew longer and the bones in her face shaped into something else. The phone flew down on the floor with a loud bang. Astrid slumped down on the floor by the transformation impact before hurrying up on her legs again. She went over to John and pushed her furry face to his cheeks, whining loudly. John didn't take notice of her; he had his eyes closed and his teeth gritted.

Pain pain pain pain was the only thing he could hear and feel.

Tim was running around upstairs searching for his father's phone. He ran sobbing into John's bedroom and found John'sphone lying on the bed. He picked it up and called Mycroft. The older brother Holmes answered after one tone.

"Mycroft! Father he is..."Tim started telling Mycroft but he got interrupted by the older man.

"I know. You have called 999?" Mycroft asked.

"Yes, Astrid just did and I think she transformed. Please come over here and help us!"Tim sobbed, completely panic-stricken.

"Take it easy and try to make Astrid calm down and transform into her ordinary self. I will come as fast as I can."Mycroft said and cut the call.

Tim ran downstairs and saw his sister and father lying on the floor. John's face was as white as snow; italmost looked like it was glowing on its own in contrast to Astrid's red fur.

"Uncle is on his way." Tim said, still sobbing. He sunk down beside his family and tried to hug them both with his short arms.

The door suddenly opened and Mycroft, together with Anthena, came through the doorway. Astrid quickly ran upstairs to transform herself and to put on some clothes. Sirens from the ambulance they had been waiting for could be heard from outside. Mycroft went over to John and lifted him up in his arms. He carefully carried him to the waiting ambulance. Tim followed him and Astrid came outside a moment later.

"The ambulance will take John to the hospital and there, they will help him, all right? In the mean time, me and Anthena will take care of you." their uncle said softly to them and patted their heads lovingly.

Astrid nodded slowly. She turned her gaze to Tim, whom was still crying, and brought him into her arms.

"Daddy will be okay, I promise..." she promised to herbrother and carefully wiped his tears away with his arm sleeve.

Tim nodded slowly and looked at her with big, teary light green eyes.

"I hope so...", he said in between his sobs and put his arms around his sister's body.

"I promise..." Astrid whispered softly.

The ambulance quickly drove away with John with its sirens blinking and screaming. Mycroft, Anthena, Tim and Astrid went into Mycroft's private car and hastily drove to the Holmes estate. When they arrivedMycroft's servants had already prepared some breakfast for the children and they ate in silence.

Later in the evening, the children went to bed and when the clock struck midnight, Mycroft felt something inside him ease up. Suddenly, he knew that his younger brother had awoken from the dead.

"Anthena."he said to his mate while he was looking out on the moonlit graveyard through the window.

"Yes, Mr. Holmes?" she asked.

"Keep an eye on the children and do not let them hear Sherlock's arrival."he said to his mate and she nodded, understanding the situation and she quickly made her way to the children's rooms.

"I will let the children meet their father later, when he has spoken to Anderson and has heard what happened with John..."Mycroft thought before he went downstairs to open the door to welcome his brother.