"Sherlock!" Dad yelled in rage. I put my music up a little louder, hoping it would drown out their screams and shouts. It didn't. My dads had been fighting a lot. A lot more than usual. I opened up my Trig text book and tried to make sense of the letters and numbers, but I couldn't.

Enough to not notice my failing grades.

I winced as the book pressed into the cuts on my arm.

Enough to ignore me.

I heard Hamish cry in the other room.

Enough to ignore their own son.

I got up and silently went to Hamish's room.

"Shh," I soothed and stroked his hair, "it's all right. I'm here and I know you don't like the yelling, but I can't do anything about it." I picked him up and rocked him. "But what I can do is make sure you're not alone. I will be here for you always, even when our fathers are not. Now, go to sleep." I told him as father and dad finished their argument. "Good night, Hamish." I kissed his forehead, but didn't put him back in the crib. I picked up his diaper bag and threw in all the stuff I might need for him. Food, milk, diapers, wipes, clothes, etc. then ran to my room and grabbed the bag I had already prepared. I walked into the sitting room and reached into father's coat, pulled out his wallet, and pocketed it.

"Good bye," I whispered to the apartment that was once my home and ran.

Greg Lestrade had just come home from work and was enjoying a beer and a match of football when he heard a knock at the door. Who could that be?, he thought and looked at his watch, it's 10'o clock at night. Nevertheless he answered the door.

"Hello Uncle," the dark haired little girl said.

"Falin, what are you doing here?" he asked.

"Avoiding home," I stated. At this moment Hamish decided to wake up and cry.

"Why do you have- Falin, no," he said, finally realizing what I was doing.

"Uncle Greg," I whined.

"I know you get into a lot of fights with Sherlock, but you can't just run away," he told me.

"Yeah, well that's not the reason."

"Then tell me what is?"

"Not now," tried to tend to Hamish the best I could with my arms full.

"Falin," Lestrade took the bags. "Get in." He let me in the house.

"Thank you." I walked in, "do you have a place where Hamish can lie down?"

"My room," he pointed in a relative direction.

"Thank you." I went and laid him down then came back.

"So," I sat down across from Uncle Greg.

"Tell me, why?"

"They're fighting."

"Who?"

"A lot and it drives me insane. And they keep ignoring us. They don't care. You should listen to them. Hamish hates it too."

"Falin," he put his hands on my shoulders, "who? What are you talking about?"

"Dad and father!" I burst into tears.

"Falin, sweetie." He pulled me into a hug. "It's okay."

"I-I'm s-s-sorry," I managed between sobs.

"Why are you apologizing? It's not your fault," he told me.

"But your shirt and everything," I picked my head up and wiped my eyes.

"It is fine, just sleep," he got up, "You can sleep in my room." He suggested.

"No, Hamish and I are fine on the couch," I protested.

"Falin, it's okay," he told me again.