Um... Hello! How are we all? So I wrote this yesterdaay and it was literally about 400 words, then I sat down to edit it and this is what churned out! Hope you all love it and can't wait to read any feedback x
- Livvy x

Chapter 1

After hours of study at Bart's, he'd called it a day and now Sherlock was trudging through the streets of London in the dark, miserable at not finding what he'd wanted from the hours of intense research on a particularly interesting body. H e pulled his coat closer to him, grateful for the warmth on the cold night. Sometimes he hated living in London.

Sherlock let out an audible sigh of relief when he came to the street that led onto Baker Street, grateful that he wasn't far away. It was then that he heard it - a scream coming from close by. He stopped and listened, facing the direction of the sound. It came again, followed by a plea for help. Then a thud and silence. Sherlock decided quickly that whoever this person was might need him, and that if there was ever a time to be a hero, now was that time.

It wasn't like him to go running off to help random people who were strangers to him. He didn't care about strangers (he'd only recently started to care for his family and gain friends) so why was he running off in the dark for some person? What had John done to him?!

Sherlock came to the entrance of a dark alley, and hesitated for only a moment, listening to the sound of faint crying coming from it before going down it into further blackness. "Hello?" he called into the dark. It was a risky move, going into that alley, because if there was a mugger or even a murderer here, he was essentially dead already, as he couldn't even see his hand in front of his face.

"H-hello..?" A small voice replied.

"I'm here to help you." No turning back now.

"W... What?"

"I'm here to help you," he repeated, resisting the urge to roll his eyes despite the possibly serious situation. "Are you alright?"

"I don't... I don't understand," came the small voice. Sherlock guessed that they were about five meters away from him, but he couldn't determine a gender or an age due to the shaky voice and the sniffs.

"I heard you calling for help so here I am. What happened?"

"We... I... We were attacked."

"Are you hurt?" Sherlock questioned.

"I... Yes... My arm."

"Okay. Um..." Sherlock was at a loss of what to do. If this person was injured, they'd need a doctor. But then again, if they had been attacked, perhaps it was best to report it to the police first. He couldn't leave this person on their own, as they were obviously in a bad way. Then, an idea struck him. "Do you want to come back to my flat? My friend's a doctor, and I can get in contact with the police if you wish to report the incident tonight."

"Um... Okay..."

"Unless you have someone else I could ring for you? A friend? Family member, perhaps?"

"I don't have... Any... Family... Anymore," Was the strange reply. Sherlock turned to leave the alley, assuming the mysterious person would follow.

"Well, come with me then. I suppose I can provide accommodation for you until tomorrow, and then I shall escort you back to your home. If you just wait for a second, I can get the light on on my phone to help you see where you're going."

"Alright." There was a loud sniff, and then the unmistakable sound of the person standing up. Sherlock fished around in his coat pocket for his phone, turning it on and scrolling through to find his torch. "I'm... I'm not alone, though."

"That's okay," Sherlock replied, not really listening. He turned on the torch and shone it in the direction of the voice.

There stood a small child, about the age of nine. He wore a thick brown jacket, but it was sliced up the arm and nothing but tatters now. Blood was seeping rapidly from the gash in his arm, staining the small hand that was clamped over it tightly. His hazel hair was messy and matched the colour of his eyes. However, Sherlock saw more than just a colour in those eyes. He saw fear, pain, sorrow and exhaustion.

He was more than a little surprised that the person he'd been talking to was a child, and shocked at how he'd failed to realise it before hand from the voice.

Laying next to the child was a woman of about thirty, who was unmistakably dead. Her eyes were open in shock, but her mouth was closed.

Sherlock looked over to the child, hoping above hope that he understood that his mother (presumably that's who she was) was dead so he wouldn't have to explain it, as he knew he wasn't perhaps the most tactful when it came to death and small children.

"She can't come with us though, can she?" the small boy asked, eyes wide and tearful.

"I... I don't think so."

"Are... Are you going to leave her here?"

"No, I'm not. I'm going to call a friend of mine who will take her to a morgue so they can find out who killed her."

"That's... Good." Sherlock quickly deduced that the child was half asleep, and looking at him in the light he could see the slight unsteadiness the boy had on his feet. He'd contact Lestrade a bit later, when he had a cup of tea steaming in his hands.

"But right now, we have to get back. It's not far, can you make it?"

"I..." the child took one step and swayed dramatically, and Sherlock found himself reaching out and catching him. He was slightly alarmed by this new sensitive, caring Sherlock, but he decided to ponder upon it later.

"No, you can't," he stated as he tucked his phone into his pocket and picking up the child, albeit hesitantly. The contact felt strange, as it had been the first he'd had (except for handshakes and accidental nudges on the street and the tube) since his childhood.

"I'm... I'm sorry," came a small, shaking voice, slightly muffled by Sherlock's thick coat.

"What for?" he replied, absently. Most of his mind focusing on getting out of the alley without tripping over.

"That I can't walk."

"It's fine. It's all fine."

They continued in silence. Sherlock walking hesitantly and slowly until he finally reached the main street and could walk normally, and the boy trying hard not to cry into his savior's posh coat, trying even harder not to get his blood on it, but trying the most not to fall asleep.

I am planning to continue this and it's probably going to be a three-shot or a full length story (it all depends on the amount of reviews).