Sherlock sat across the dinner table from his husband, still studying his face while his partner's eyes scrolled through the magazine in his hands. James Moriarty was the most perfect human being Sherlock had ever encountered everything from his neatly combed brown hair to his beautifully, graced feet. It was fitting that he had been able to marry a man whose intellect matched with his own and the son they had raised together for fourteen years was on his way to becoming an equal counterpart to the two men.

Sherlock placed the newspaper in his hand down, giving up the façade that he had ever been reading it in the first place and spoke to his beautiful husband. "Did you speak with Colden of his problems with his teacher?"

For the first time in ten minutes Jim looked up from his magazine and studied Sherlock's face intently before sitting up and readjusting himself in the grey suit he was wearing. "Of course I did, darling. I said I would, didn't I?"

The reassurance from his husband didn't ease the consulting detective's mind however, as said man wasn't the best at problem solving in a healthy manner. "Now was this talk in a parent's perspective or in a Moriarty perspective?"

That damned smirk that played across Jim's perfect lips was the reason that Sherlock had agreed to let him handle this in the first place but he wouldn't let it distract his from the issue at hand now. "You worry too much, sweetheart."

"I don't want that temper of yours to be passed down to our son." He argued although he knew he wasn't a saint when it came to controlling his anger either.

"Sherly, it's all taken care of." The soothing ring to Moriarty's voice did nothing to calm the consulting detective but he would have to let it go since he wasn't about to get anything else out of his stubborn lover.

As he was finally getting back to the pointless news article he had in front of him his phone vibrated loudly on the dinner table.

"Maybe it's a new case, something to get your mind off of Colden," Moriarty suggested while he didn't even look up from the magazine he had in his hand.

He answered the call and wasn't surprised to hear Gregory Lestrade's voice on the other end. "Sherlock, I have a new murder for you at a private high school."

The consulting detective immediately knew this had something to do with Jim and his parenting tactics but kept the monotone in his voice as he spoke to the detective inspector. "Who was the victim?"

"A teacher, Mr. Briggs. He was murdered in his classroom. There were about seven hundred students in the building at the time and nobody saw a damn thing, can you believe it?" Lestrade stayed silent waiting for Sherlock to give him a reaction but continued on when he realized he wasn't going to get one. "Anyways we have no leads, didn't find any DNA or clues on the body at all. The victim was asphyxiated with a plastic bag and there were no defensive wounds found. This guy who did this sure knew how to cover his tracks, like he knew what he was doing."

"Not interested," He said immediately after Lestrade had stopped talking. "Too boring, call me with something more challenging."

Sherlock hung up the phone before he gave the Detective Inspector a chance to respond and immediately looked to his husband who was pretending to be too interested in the magazine to be listening to his conversation although he knew exactly what it was regarding.

"Colden," He called out for his son trying very hard to not let the tone in his voice give away what he was feeling at this moment.

When his son walked into the room, his husband also decided it was time to give up his charade and join in on the conversation they were about to have. Their son was dressed in a purple button down shirt, similar to one his dad was wearing at the moment, and a pair of black trousers.

"Have you heard about what happened to Mr. Briggs?" Sherlock questioned the kid in front of him.

Colden nodded so his curly black hair bounced over the big, light brown eyes he had inherited from his father, Jim. "It was tragic."

He did his best to contain the smile his face was beginning to display at the game he was playing with his fifteen year old son right now. "I'm sure you were heartbroken, especially considering the fact that two days ago you told me that he gave you detention even though you didn't do anything."

"The world works in mysterious ways, Dad." He looked over to his father, Jim, who was smiling brightly at him encouragingly. "Father has always said that karma has its ways of working things out."

"I just got off the phone with my friend, Detective Inspector Lestrade, and he said that there was absolutely no evidence left behind at the crime scene even though he was choked to death with a bag there were no defensive wounds at all and he didn't mention anything about the teacher being drugged."

The teenager put his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "Looks like the killer was a smart guy."

Moriarty interrupted the conversation. "I think we should let the boy go process the horrific news alone in his room, isn't that right, Sherly?"

He nodded to his son who turned around and began to exit the dining area where his two dads had been seated. Before he could make his way completely out of the room and safe from anymore questioning, his dad called out to him.

"Colden." Sherlock was now wearing a glowing smile filled with pride on his face. "Good job."