Hello, darlings! I hope you enjoy this story. It was just a little idea that popped into my mind so it probably isn't very good ^^;

Yes xxx -SH

221C was no longer an empty flat. Mrs Hudson had been kind enough to lend it to Sherlock for a little while. Why? Because Sherlock had suddenly woken up one day and decided he wanted to build a boat.

Yes, I am not kidding.

He was actually pretty good at it; Sherlock surprised John by being very good with the hand tools and after a while and his boat was coming along great after a few weeks. 221C was a terrible mess and the floor was covered in wood shavings. Tools lines the tables and empty water bottles littered one corner where the bin was overflowing. Why he had suddenly decided to build a boat was a mystery to John, and the Doctor never got a reply when he asked, but this was Sherlock and John trusted his best friend a lot, and so he chose not to question it anymore. Instead, when he wasn't too tired from the surgery or they weren't running about London on a case, John chose to join Sherlock in building the boat.

"No, John, like this," Sherlock said, moving to stand behind John and hold the Doctor's hands, showing him how to sand the wooden boards properly. They worked together, movements slow, and Sherlock rested his chin on John's good shoulder as they worked. Silence filled the basement, as it often did when they worked on the boat. After a little while, John turned his head to the side and pressed a sweet kiss to Sherlock's cheek which caused the Detective to smile.

"Would you like some tea?" John asked him.

"Yes please, but I'll make it," Sherlock replied, pulling away slightly. "You've had a tough day at work, you stay here." Pressing a kiss to John's forehead, Sherlock disappeared out of the door and the echo of his footsteps on the stairs could be heard from the basement flat. John couldn't stop the smile on his face. Ever since they met, and especially ever since they got together about a year ago, Sherlock changed for the better. At least when he is around John, Sherlock would show a lot more emotion than before. He would smile genuinely more often and he would understand when what he was doing wasn't good. He wouldn't play his violin at stupid times in the morning and he actually learnt how to make tea properly. Lestrade would often tell John that he was a very good influence on Sherlock and that the Consulting Detective had become much more bearable to be around. Even Donovan had stopped being as rude to Sherlock as she used to be. Yes, Sherlock was still an arse often, and yes, Sherlock was still himself, but things had turned for the better.

Picking back up his sanding tool, John walked over to the workbench to swap it for a file. As he did so, his hand went into his inside pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. He drew in a deep breath and placed it back in his pocket.

There didn't seem to be a file around, but after a little digging under the mess John found a blue tool box and opened it up. He found his file, but also a cassette player with a cassette in it, and was labelled 'To Sherlock xxx'.

"Music, huh?" John mused to himself, placing the player on the table and pressing play. He took the file in his hand and made his way back to the shell of the boat, listening to the noise the cassette made as it began to play. The music was a simple tune, one John recognised as Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, and it appeared to be being played by an amateur. It continued for about a minute, maybe two, before ending. A brief pause. John thought the tape had finished, but two voices stopped him from turning it off.

"Daddy! Daddy! I won second place!"

"And next time you'll win first for sure! *Kissing noise* We miss you, Sherlock, and we cannot wait to see you home safely. Good luck on your case. Love you!"

"Bye, Daddy! Love You! Bye!"

The smashing of porcelain snapped John's attention to the door where all that remained was two broken mugs and a fleeing Sherlock. John hurried after him, calling his name and pleading for him to stay, but by the time John had made it up the stairs the front door had slammed shut.

What the hell was going on?

Six hours later, at one in the morning, Sherlock still had not returned home. During this time John had cleaned up the smashed cups, tidied up 221C a little, and helped himself to copious amounts of tea. He had also thought things over and tried to make sense of the entire situation.

It was obvious that Sherlock had never intended on John finding that tape, hidden it in the tool box under all the tools. The tape itself led to even more questions. Who was it from? Who were the two people talking in the tape? The first voice had been a young girl's voice, no older than eight, and the second a woman with a very slight accent - German, John believed - but Sherlock had never made any mention of them in his life. John did his best to do some deducing of his own, muttering aloud to himself as he did.

"The woman obviously loved Sherlock a lot, so if they split up on bad terms Sherlock wouldn't have kept the tape... on good terms he may have done... but he would have had custody of the little girl if it had been good terms. So why would he keep it? Unless...?" Something in John seemed to click, his tea almost falling from his hands as the realisation seemed to suddenly make sense in his mind. His phone beeped. John looked at the text.

Well done on figuring it out, Doctor. Now, would you be so kind as to open the door? -MH

Ignoring the fact that Mycroft had been watching him all this time, John got up and opened the door to the flat for Mycroft, who stood there in his crisp suit and umbrella as usual. Only this time, under his arms, was a book.

"May I come in?" Mycroft asked, completely out of character. John nodded and let the British Government into his home, offering him a cup of tea which was kindly denied. So, the pair of them simply took the seats by the fireplace.

"Mycroft, what is this all about?" John asked. Mycroft made no reply. Instead, he took the book into his hands and opened it to the first page, the proceeded to hand it to John.

It was a photo album.

The first photo was of a curly haired teenage boy and a shorter light brown haired teenage girl standing with arms around one another outside the entrance to Cambridge University. It was titled "Sherlock and Elizabeth - first day of University; September 5th, 1992". All the photos were labelled in a similar way and most were dated.

"Sherlock and Elizabeth - first Christmas; December 25th, 1992"
"Sherlock and Elizabeth - Sherlock's twentieth birthday; January 6th, 1994"
"Sherlock and Elizabeth - Elizabeth's twentieth birthday; April 21st, 1994"
"Sherlock and Elizabeth - Graduation, July 17th; 1996"
"Sherlock and Elizabeth - Moving to 221B, November 13th; 1999"
"Sherlock and Elizabeth - The Happy News! December 25th; 2002"
"Sherlock and Elizabeth - New Parents, June 18th; 2003"

All photographs after "New Parents" now showed a third face, that of a little girl.

"Sherlock, Elizabeth and Charlotte - Charlotte's first Christmas; December 25th, 2003"
"Sherlock, Elizabeth and Charlotte - Charlotte's first birthday; June 18th, 2004"
"Sherlock, Elizabeth and Charlotte - Charlotte's first steps"
"Sherlock, Elizabeth and Charlotte - Family Holiday; August 2006"
"Sherlock, Elizabeth and Charlotte - Wedding; May 12th, 2007"

The photos continued on and on in such a fashion until 2009. Then they all stopped, with the final one being one of Sherlock - who was looking more recognisable now - standing next to Elizabeth with little Charlotte in their his arms down by the Coast, with a wooden boat in the background. A boat that looked very similar to the one Sherlock had been building for the past month.

"Elizabeth Liesl Charlotte Hanover was Sherlock's best friend since College," Mycroft said, and John looked up from the book to give Mycroft his full attention. The older Holmes shifted in his seat, letting the Umbrella he always holds slip from his grasp onto the floor. "They met in their Psychology class - Sherlock took it for fun, Elizabeth took it as she genuinely wanted to study it - and Elizabeth was one of Sherlock's few friends at the school. You see... Sherlock was never always like he is today,"

"What do you mean?" John asked.

"Sherlock's diagnosis of 'High-Functioning Sociopath' is a self-given one. He only gave it to himself about a year before he met you. I'll come back to this," Mycroft said, and John nodded for him to continue with his original story.

"Elizabeth and Sherlock got along well. In his youth Sherlock was never any good at making friends not just because of his great intelligence and nature to scare people off, but because he was actually quite shy and kept to his books and experiments more often than not. When he used his smarts on people they would call him names and it was actually very hurtful for him... in more ways than one... Elizabeth was able to help him get through this, and he actually made quite a few friends because of this. They started dating when they joined University - both got into Cambridge; Sherlock studying Chemistry, Criminology and Psychology, Elizabeth studying Psychology and Law." Mycroft pointed back to the first photograph. "This photo album captured everything about them during their time together." John flicked back through the photos again.

"They moved to Baker Street?"

"Yes, it was Elizabeth's idea." A grimace appeared on Mycroft's face as he continued. "I'm sure you know by now of Sherlock's past with drugs; well, Elizabeth never forced him to stop, instead chose to help him through it gradually. They moved to this flat so they had somewhere safe in case Sherlock did feel the need to use. It also meant they weren't living at Mummy's. During this time Elizabeth had gotten herself a job as a Lawyer at Scotland Yard, which, a few years later, would be how Sherlock met Detective Inspector Lestrade. Things continued in this way for a good few years until-"

"-until Charlotte came along," John finished, and Mycroft nodded.

"The moment Elizabeth told Sherlock she was pregnant, Sherlock was overjoyed. Granted a little shocked and very worried to begin with, but overjoyed. He refused to touch drugs or his cigarettes ever again and began to keep his experiments cleared away. He changed for the better, and everyone liked the new Sherlock. Charlotte was born on the eighteenth of June, 2003. She was the perfect mix of the two: Sherlock's curls yet Elizabeth's light brown hair. Sherlock's pale skin yet Elizabeth's bright blue eyes. She grew up with her father's intelligence and curiosity yet her mother's compassion and valiance. Two years after Charlotte's birth and Sherlock met DI Lestrade and began to take on cases, but only when he wasn't caring for Charlotte if Elizabeth was at work. Sherlock and Elizabeth married when Charlotte was three turning four; I was his best man. For a while... all was right in the world,"

A silence formed between them. It wasn't a comfortable one. John had a lot of questions he wanted to ask, but only one seemed to form on his tongue.

"Was I correct?" He asked, and Mycroft looked up at the Doctor, "My 'deductions', about what happened to them. Was I correct?"

Mycroft nodded.

"It was a case," the British Government began slowly, "Elizabeth witnessed a part of the case she should have had no part in and she was being taken with Charlotte to a safe house up in the North to keep them safe. The criminal was very dangerous, too dangerous for Sherlock to let them return to Baker Street," Silence. A deep breath.

"The car was blown up, sniper straight into the fuel tank. Records put it as a 'faulty engine', but everyone on the case knew better."

John's head fell into his hands and he rubbed at his temple. He had expected something bad... but not that.

"What happened to the criminal?"

"Dead. Shot at long range whilst driving from Edinburgh to London. Good riddance." Mycroft explained, sitting up a lot taller in his seat. John asked no questions as his short answer was all he needed.

"Sherlock changed for the worst. He was distraught and he felt horrible about everything, blaming the entirety of it on himself. He stopped taking cases for a long while, had to move out of Baker Street because being there was just too much for him. I let him stay at mine for a year until he felt like he was back on track. He changed into quite a different person; he was colder and always much more irritating. He would sneer at people, call everyone idiots, much like he does now. He distanced himself from everyone. He began smoking again, taking drugs. I helped him the best I could but it was just too much for him. It was hard, it still is, but then he met you." John's face contoured with confusion.

"Me? What did I do?"

"You saved him," Mycroft said, shifting slightly in his seat. "When he met you he was only just getting back on track. Our deal was he could move back to Baker Street if he found a flatmate, and he found you. You became his friend, didn't call him names or be rude to him or shove him away when he needed you most. You helped him move on, and helped him continue. Eventually, he began to fall in love with you. Yes, he still loves Elizabeth and Charlotte and he still misses them a lot, but he told me he "Couldn't help falling in love" with you. He wanted you to know about his wife and daughter, but he was just afraid of how you would take it. He was already scared you would up and leave 'him at any time if you got too irritated with him,"

"Why would he think I'd leave? I'd never leave him!" John argued, but Mycroft held up a hand to quieten his words.

"I know that, and so does he now," Mycroft said, "I'm sorry for the events of yesterday and so is Sherlock, he was simply frightened. He'll be home within a few hours, seeing as how it is almost two am. Just promise me you will not push this unless he want's to speak about it. He isn't the best as this sort of thing."

After a nod from John, Mycroft gathered his umbrella and the photo album in his arms and stood up, saying his goodbyes before making his way to the door.

"What about the boat?" John asked. Mycroft smiled, a genuine one this time, and turned back to the Doctor.

"Charlotte asked Sherlock to help her make a toy boat, Sherlock said they could make a proper boat and go sailing," Mycroft bid John goodbye and then made his way down the seventeen steps.

An hour later and John was in bed, trying his best to sleep. But he couldn't. He couldn't because he wanted Sherlock to come home. John simply laid there, eyes closed, breaths even, when the door to his room opened. A figure moved around the room, draws opening and closing, and after about five minutes the covers were lifted up and the figure slipped into the bed next to John. Curls tickled John's nose as the figure curled up against John's chest.

"I'm sorry," A hoarse voice whispered. John's arms wrapped around the figure and pressed a kiss to the curls.

"It's alright, Sherlock," John replied, "it's alright. I understand, I really do. I love you,"

"I love you too,"

"There's something for you in the top draw," John said before he managed to slip off into a calm sleep.

When John awoke many hours later, Sherlock was gone, but the same velvet box from hours ago sat open and empty on his bedside table with a little card that simply said "Yes xxx -SH"

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