The sun was setting outside, casting rays of dust all around the flat. The cars downstairs honked and rode around, so busy and unaware of the life inside 221B Baker Street. It was a week day, a hectic one. But not for Sherlock Holmes. All around the living room were books and papers spread all over the floor and chairs, apparently unorganized. The TV was playing without any sound; just the image being emitted to no one in particular, cartoons of some kind. But the real noise came from the kitchen. On top of the table was all kind of paraphernalia, pulled to a corner to make room for a strange apparatus. On the chair to the left was a big fan, still off.
Sherlock looked at the solution he had just mixed, attentively observed by the little boy with black curls and wide big eyes. It was not a very complicated recipe, just a mix of liquid dish soap, distilled water and corn syrup. The boy had helped mixing the ingredients and Sherlock was now making sure everything was okay. It seemed like it.
"It's ready, Greg." He said.
The boy looked up now, staring at him and smiled, expectation on his face. Sherlock smiled back.
He picked the huge recipient with the solution carefully and took a look at the table again, all the round circles made of plastic placed in strategic places. He passed the smaller ones to the boy who dipped them in the solution and he himself managed to soak the bigger ones. They placed it back carefully and looked at it, the same expression, both with their hands on their hips, contemplating what they had just done. The boy and the man were so alike. Not just physically, but also in what concerned their attitudes. Both perfectionists, curious and usually, bored.
Sherlock looked at his own watch and in that moment he heard the door opening and closing downstairs, and two sets of footsteps. John and Hamish were back from the dentist appointment and this was just a surprise Sherlock and Greg had set up for them. They would love it.
As the little boy entered the room, holding hands with John, his light blond hair very well combed, Sherlock and Greg nodded at each other and smiled. At Sherlock's sign, the pale and thin boy set the fan on. As the air blew out of it, millions of bubbles filled the room, making everything around them look magical. The blonde boy laughed, running closer to the apparatus and trying to catch the bubbles, and the one with the black hair joined, dancing around with him. Their laughter was contagious and so, so happy.
Sherlock crossed the room, reaching out for John's hand. The smaller man looked up, interlacing his fingers on Sherlock's and thanking him with a silent look and a smile. Sherlock smiled back and shook his head, assuring him silently that he was more than welcome.
They stood together by the door, observing the little boys playing around, surrounded by soap bubbles and happiness. As the bubbles stopped flying and the plastic circles needed a new refill of the bubble solution, Sherlock let go of John's hand and placed a kiss on his forehead.
John saw him turn away, knowing he would come back as soon as the boys were entertained and John also knew Sherlock would keep them dancing between bubbles until they ran out of ingredients to make more of that special bubble liquid, that created huge bubbles. That was Sherlock. He had strange ways to say I love you, but they were, somehow, always effective. And the family they were raising was probably not a very common one, but it surely was the best one John could have ever asked for.