As always I have no rights... etc regarding the characters... you get the jist.
The Legacy of Redbeard
Redbeard, for the majority of his life, had been Sherlock's closest and most cherished companion. He was his masters First Mate and, more importantly, a figure to keep Sherlock on the straight and narrow. Even if that course meant that they hi-jacked his mother's kitchen every evening demanding a bounty of biscuits in exchange for leniency.
When his beloved pet died, that affection was ignored and kept closed off. It was used as a shield against the outside world and his family. As the small boy grew into a troubled young man and moved on to other things, the need for structure and stability morphed into a dependency for the routine drugs demanded.
When he sobered up and resurfaced as The Consulting Detective, he moved to solving crimes and the intoxicating world of psychopaths.
Everything stopped and changed suddenly when Sherlock Holmes, the Great Consulting Detective, met Dr John Watson and a new companionship was born. For the first time in a very long while, he had a friend by his side to assist him in saving the day.
Like most friendships, it had taken its sweet time to settle into any form of equality. John, even now, would argue that they have never truly found the equilibrium you would find in most partnerships. Mary would remind him that any relationship with the impossible Sherlock Holmes was never going to be, what society considered, normal. Sherlock would maintain the view that he trusted John and therefore any measurement of equality was redundant anyway. That there was nothing more important then trust.
Mycroft, if anyone asked him, would argue with his brother's sentiment.
It was no secret that Mycroft would tease his younger sibling over his affection for the family pooch. It was, after all, a novelty for any of the tempestuous Holmes boys to show emotion, let alone yearn, for the affection of another. When Redbeard had died their mother had expressed her regret at the loss of her son's innocence, even if it is was at the gain of getting her kitchen back from the pirates and the biscuit tin lasted long enough for the next shopping trip.
Their father had debated getting another 'replacement' of Redbeard but decided against it at his sons lack of interest in anything pirate-related after the burial. Not to mention pet related. Violet was allergic to cats, he hated birds and anything aquatic was too boring for any of their children. The hope for his sons recovery, and the possibility of a new companion, died the day he was duly informed that 'Sherlock' would not longer acknowledge William as a form of address.
Mr Holmes vowed never to tell anyone how much that had hurt his feelings. He loved his son unconditionally and mourned the loss, and pain, that he was suffering. He would never mention to Sherlock how hard he had fought his mother to agree to call their youngest son after his own father, or how difficult it was to address him by his late father-in-law's name (a man he detested) when his own father's was tossed so carelessly away.
He knew his son was suffering but the pain was still there and it did cause a rift between the father and son during his troubled childhood years.
The one thing Mr Holmes would admit is how grateful he was that Violet never mentioned, or bragged, the victory of her win to him. If anything her unwavering understanding and patience made him love her more, especially when she continued to address him as William whenever the children were not around.
John learnt of Redbeard one late evening at the Holmes Residence in Christmas, the Watson's were demanded to attend the Yuletide festivities every year, when rummaging though a draw for a pen he stumbled across a picture of a wild-haired pirate capturing his unwilling, and definitely canine, victim.
When he inquired and no answer was forthcoming, Sherlock in a huff of annoyance, leaned forward and emerged his friend in the world, and numerous adventures, of Bootstrap Bill and his First Mate.
It did not escape the Great Detective's notice that pictures of his faithful pet began slowly appearing on the walls of his childhood home, after an absence of 30 years, nor that a copy of the same picture appeared hidden behind a lamp in Baker Street.
It did, however, take John 4 years and move to discover that a copy had been hanging in his hallway for some considerable time.
It remained in every Watson household long after the stories of Bootstrap Bill and Redbeard were forgotten.
End.