A/N: Sherlock and John raising Mycroft's child. Simple as that. Just a nice family fic inspired by my own family and the struggles with raising children in a same-sex marriage. (My own father and his boyfriend had one Hell of a time raising all four of us kids, even in Canada.) This is a lot more lighthearted though, dealing with the family aspect rather than the drama and struggle of control that the government and schools think they have. I might have some of that into later chapters, but for now, let's watch John and Sherlock try to raise ONE child on their own.
Rating may go up in later chapters do to issues and situations that occur, but hush hush, not spoiling anything.
It should be noted that the name 'Ryder' came out of thin air. Any resemblance to an actual person is unintended and completely random.
Grounded
"Ryder, go to bed now! You'll never be able to get up for school in the morning if you don't sleep." John yelled at his son, pointing his finger in the direction of the stairs. Sherlock sat on the couch in his dressing robe, smirking sardonically at his boyfriend trying to discipline a Holmes child. Ryder, being only six, didn't understand much, but enough to know that there were certain limits to how much his dads tempers could be pushed. Trodging up the stairs in his footsie pajama's, Ryder drooped his head full of hair curls and retreated to his bedroom.
From the other corner of the living room, Sherlock smirked.
"You know raising a child of Holmes blood would be difficult. Especially once he started school." His deep voice laced with amusement echoed within the quiet walls of the flat. John was exhausted, he collapsed on the sofa beside his boyfriend, wiping a hand across his tired brow.
"It's been six years, if anything I figured he would wait until he was a teenager to get an attitude. He wasn't that bad until you decided to teach him to talk." John was right, for the most part during the infant years, Ryder was quiet, he didn't get collic that most babies get. He wasn't very destructive either, until his late toddler years when he needed to be taught to talk, walk, eat and, the worst of them all, potty train. Ever since then it was a miasma of trouble and chaos wherever they went.
"I had to teach him to talk, otherwise where would he learn it?" Sherlock smiled, Ryder may not be his biological son, but he was a Holmes, and biologically his nephew, and by God, he was going to raise him to be a Holmes. John, on the other hand, would have preferred a Holmes child raised to be a Watson. Friendly, nonchalant, curious but not overly enticed by shiny objects. John knew that by leaving Sherlock to teach their son to talk, he would learn all the elements of chemistry before he knew how to say his own name. Oh well, he figured, at least their son would be intelligent.
"Mycroft wants to visit again this weekend." Sherlock announced, leading the topic away from parenting skills and duties. John's attention perked up once Sherlock spoke the name of his brother-and the father of their son.
"Oh yeah? What does he want?" John asked, slightly aggitated. When Mycroft came to visit it was only to spoil Ryder rotten and send him back home for his parents to deal with the hyperactive child hepped up on sugar and other sweets. He understood that he wanted to see his son, and in his government position and single marital status; it was impossible to raise a child in secret. That's why he signed over custody to his brother and brother's partner. However, he knew once he did, he would assume role as 'uncle; as it stood, he seemed more like elderly grandmother. When Ryder went to visit 'Uncle' Mycroft, it was a weekend of sickly sweet candy, television all night, no curfew and more toys and gadgets then the child knew what to do with.
"It's the weekend before Christmas, and Mycroft wants to take Ryder to see Mummy and have Christmas dinner with that side of the family. I agreed, since we get Ryder for Christmas day anyway." Sherlock stroked John's sandy hair with the tips of his callous fingers, feeling his lover and, as John affectionately called him, 'co-parent', squirm to get comfortable under the touch. The older man looked up at the consulting detective, his brow slightly furrowed towards him.
"You know how I feel about Ryder spending a whole weekend with your brother." John grabbed Sherlock's other hand, kissing his knuckles softly. Sherlock let go a low sound from his throat.
"We should wait until we get back to the room, Ryder could still come down at any time, you don't want to explain to him what we're doing." Sherlock pulled John up into a sitting position onto his lap, giving his partner eskimo kisses. John chuckled, he was right, last year Ryder had caught them kissing in the kitchen and they had to start giving him the 'what grown-ups do' talk. They were procrastinating about the birds and the bees until he figured out that the word 'sex' exsisted. A Holmes child knowing what that meant was deadly, there was no telling what he could do with that information, or who he would tell. The thought of their son bringing up sex at the Christmas dinnertable in front of Mummy Holmes made John smirk, he knew their son was not the most polite child.
"I understand that you're uncomfortable, but I couldn't say no to Mycroft, John. He was gracious enough to let Ryder stay with us." Sherlock continued, subtlely trying to get John to get up and into their bedroom, Ryder was not known to stay in his room even at bedtime.
"I'm going to stop you right there, Sherlock, we willingly took in Ryder to keep him in the family, don't even start that. I'll let him spend time with your mother and his father, that's not an issue...I just wish he wouldn't feed him so much cake." John put his finger over the detective's lips, silencing him in a heartbeat. He felt Sherlock's lips curl into a smile underneath the stout appendage that rested over top of them. Sherlock was well aware John had no issue raising the child, it had been more then a roller coaster; more like a haunted house-backwards roller coaster-on high speed setting-with a full stomach, nor did he have any issue playing role of father, not not daring to tell their son his real parentage; but it was just so. Much. Sugar.
"It means we have the entire weekend to ourselves. We should go away for it. I hear Llangollan is nice this time of year." Sherlock muttered into John's hand, wrapping his hands around John, pulling him closer.
"North Wales is nice all times of the year. We'd only have three days at most, unless we let Mycroft take him for the week." John stood up, still in Sherlock's embrace, as he walked backwards, guiding the two of them towards the stairs to their bedroom. Sherlock nodded a muted yes, humming contently.
"If that's the case, we'll have absolutely no problem getting Mycroft to give us a car at his disposal, or a hotel reservation. I would love to be home for Christmas with our son though. It's the only time of year when he's forced to be pleasant and I don't want my brother getting all the good cheer." Sherlock nuzzled closer to John, his sibling rivalry showing through. John rolled his eyes, of course Sherlock would have some ulterior motives to going on vacation.
They reached the top of the stairs without difficulty, then they disentangled to open the door to their room, both grew very quiet, listening for any signal that Ryder would still be awake. Slowly entering the room, John thought of how they'd survive Christmas with their son newly arrived home with sugar for blood.
A/N: Okay, that was just the start. Next chapter, you'll get to see what happens to Ryder hanging out with Uncle Mycroft and Mummy Holmes. And Christmas! This chapter was really just to establish John and Sherlocks roles respectively as parents and to explain Ryder's background. The next chapter is when the fun begins!