TRIGGER WARNING! Okay, so this is Sherlock-based, so there's going to be murder, obviously. But also some child abuse in this chapter, so heads up.
All things considered, he was doomed from the start.
The postpartum depression had taken Lillian hostage about two weeks after giving birth, and had not subsided as the years went on. But her hopelessness carefully had morphed into something different. Something much more frightening.
Her husband knew this. He knew it all too well. Pulling into the driveway of the modest Irish home, after a long Saturday at work, he dreaded to see what damage had been done while he was gone.
"Papa!" As the door of the car slammed shut, Daniel Moriarty heard the voice call out to him.
He grinned, picking up his son. "Hey, Jimmy!" The boy laughed, clearly enjoying himself. He wasn't off hiding in the closet, so Daniel knew for a fact that everything at home had gone rather smoothly today. "You miss me?"
Jim nodded furiously, throwing his arms around his father's neck. "I drawed a picture! It had birds, and trees, and a lake, and a bunch of other stuff!"
"'Had'?" Oh, that wasn't a good sign.
The five-year-old nodded sadly. "Mummy got mad at me and ripped it." He looked up. "I was gonna give it to you."
So that was it. Looking Jim over intently, Daniel silently noted that there were no new bruises or cuts, and the boy didn't show any signs of pain when he had been picked up. "I'll talk to Mummy." He assured. "And while I do that, why don't you draw me another one, yeah?" Jim's face lit up as he agreed, small arms still clinging as he was carried inside.
In the past five years, it had become Daniel's job to do the cooking, beginning back when Jim was still an infant and it was the only way of assuring anyone would eat. Some days offered less gourmet dishes than others. This was one of them. The boy took his two sandwiches- he hadn't eaten lunch- into his room, back to his paper and crayons.
His bedroom was decently sized, and, at first glance, that of a normal child. Perhaps more books than most, but other than that, completely ordinary. But upon inspection, one could see signs of what had really happened there. A cracked window where a baseball had been thrown, an uneven spot on the wall, where it had had to be patched up. There were probably some traces of blood left on the doorknob from where a small head had impacted it, as well, but no one had ever bothered to check.
Jim began colouring- honestly not bad quality for his age- before thinking for a moment. His mother always got angry when he used his left hand, so he switched the crayon into his right. Maybe if he learned how to do that, she would finally be happy with him.
Lillian was laying on her bed when Daniel entered, as usual. "Jim said you were upset today." He put a cup of tea on the side table.
"Did he, now?" She sat up, dark hair a mess and falling over her thin shoulders. Her tone was venomous, almost disgusted. "The lying little shit."
That set him over the edge. "That's enough, Lillian! This is our son you're talking about!" He was not yelling, just speaking in a harsh manner. "I'm sick of hearing about his ripped up drawings, acting like I don't see the marks on him! I can't take it! And after what happened to..." Daniel trailed off before he stormed out of the room, Lillian right on his heels.
"Did you ever think that maybe he deserves it?"
"No!" His fury was in full now. "What could he possibly do to deserve that?! He makes the smallest mistake and you act like he's just killed someone! I'm not going to stand here and pretend anymore!"
There was only a short moment of silence. "Jim!" Lillian called, poison in her voice. He came down the stairs timidly. "Oh, hurry up." Grabbing a fistfull of his hair, she was rough dragging him into the room. She then took a grip on the tiny arm, strong for such a petite woman, bending it in a way which caused the boy to cry out in pain as he waited to hear a snap.
It was only when his mother was forcefully pulled away that he felt relief. Physical relief, yes, but in his mind, he was panicking. He ended up cowering in a corner.
Daniel was restraining her fairly well, despite her struggle. "Don't you dare touch my son!" This came in a growl as he did everything he could to keep her as far away from the child as possible. All other methods rendered useless, she resorted to sinking her teeth into his arm, and his grip loosened.
Now having the advantage, she pinned Daniel to the wall. Jim could see that this was getting out of hand. He tried sneaking out the door, to get help, but Lillian caught sight of him before he had the chance. "You don't move from that spot, do you hear me?!" She ordered, he obeyed, despite Daniel yelling for him to run. Her focus now turned back to the man in front of her. "You're not going to stand here and pretend anymore?" Her voice was frighteningly calm. "I can help you with that." One hand reached over to the counter, gripping the wooden handle of a knife. "Jim, baby, I want you to watch this, alright? See, Papa's hurt my feelings. But I forgive him. Now, I'm going to help him."
A child's innocence was shattered as he watched the blade pierce flesh, screaming for his father as he collapsed to the floor.
After retrieving the knife, she allowed it to clatter to the floor, which would now forever be stained with blood. His mother- No. No, this woman in front of him, drenched in the blood of his father, was not her. This woman, this monster, came closer to him. He did not back away, as he was paralysed in fear. "You're going to keep your mouth shut about this. Or you'll regret it. If you tell anyone, I will burn you. I will burn the heart out of you." Her snarl was cut off by the sound of sirens, which had been summoned by an attentive neighbor.
With one parent dead and the other imprisoned, it was decided that Jim would be relocated to live with his father's sister in Brighton. She and her husband had a son about a year older, whom he looked astonishingly similar to. While Richard was asleep in his room- Not really. All he knew was that his cousin Jim was coming to live with them, and he was excited- Grace and James Brook greeted him with tearful embraces. He didn't return them. There were too many images flashing through his mind.