ORPHANS

I. LOST BOYS

No matter how many times Sherlock tried to explain to Elizabeth – his latest caretaker (he hated the word 'nanny') – that Mycroft was going to meet them in Reykjavik, she still wanted to call him, to make sure he really would be there to meet them.

He wouldn't.

Mycroft had no intention to meet them in Reykjavik. He had no intention to be in Iceland for the next two months either. He was not even aware that Sherlock and his caretaker were heading that way. Sherlock wanted to surprise his mother, who had been living in Reykjavik for the last year, trying to 'find herself back' after her husband had been found dead in a parking lot.

However, nothing he had said had convinced Mycroft to let him live with their mother and Sherlock had remained in their old family house, now empty except for him and the old domestics.

Sherlock hated it there, so he had planned it all and now here there were, on the ferry from Aberdeen to Reykjavik, with a stressed out caretaker searching for her phone.

Sherlock was pretty sure she would not find it.

He had stolen it as soon as they had been on board.

Passing through the custom post had been stressful. Sherlock, which name for now was Loki, an Iceland citizen, had been quite proud of his forgery. At six, he had been able to create a false Iceland ID for Elizabeth 'Gunn Walsberg' and himself. He had also been very clever in his explanation to Elizabeth, who until now had been sure Mycroft, for their protection, had provided them with these new IDs.

Yes, Sherlock knew he would not have been able to do such a thing if Elizabeth had been bright. She was however, not. And as they would now be in Reykjavik in four hours, it did not matter if she realized she had been duped.

She was beginning to be quite mad at him though, so Sherlock found his way to the stern of the ship, living her in a state of panic behind him.

"Mum, why do we have to go there?" Nine years old John H. Watson asked his tired looking mother. She bent down and crouched in front of him. "I told you John, it's a new life that begins. Your dad's family home is really big, I am sure we'll be very happy there."

John frowned and crossed his arms. "But they don't speak like us, and I don't know anyone there. Ma, please, let us go back home. We could stay with Greg - ?" John would not cry, but he really didn't want to go live in another country, so far away from his father's grave.

"We don't have a choice, John. And that is quite enough with this attitude."

"But mum I –"

"No, John! Enough!" She stood up and walked to a bench, sitting herself down.

John blinked the tears away, guilt and despair storming through as he remembered how his father's blood had felt on his tiny hands as he tried to close the wounds on his arms.

He had failed.

Quietly, he made his way to the boat rail and let his head rest on his arms, looking at the sea.

"You should know that your mother has gone back in your cabin," said a voice behind him. John looked down and fell in the weirdest eyes he had ever looked into. Blue-Grey-Green light stared at him intently. The eyes belonged to a little boy, no older than five or six years old with wild black hair and a very fine coat. He was also lying under a bench.

John looked up and saw that indeed, his mother had disappeared.

"How do you know she is my Mom?" He asked, sitting himself down on the floor in front of the little boy. The latter smiled and shrugged.

"I heard you," he said.

"Oh, so you're a spy?" John said, smiling weakly.

"I am not. I am a Pirate-detective," the boy answered, but then he saw someone running around and hid himself further under the bench.

"Who is it then? Is she your Mum?" John watched the women looking frantically everywhere, looking at him for a second before walking away quickly. He didn't call her back.

He knew what mother could be like, and he was not going to betray the boy to someone he was hiding from.

"She is not my mother!" The kid answered vehemently while still keeping his voice to a low degree. "She is the woman my brother chose to take care of me. She is stupid and annoying and she never wants to experiment or investigate or let me read medical books and I hate her."

John arched an eyebrow. "Well, she doesn't seem to be much fun then. Do you want to play with me?"

The kid stared at him a long time, frowning.

He eventually nodded. "You should know that I have not played with anyone other than my brother since I was three. Other children usually dislike me very quickly."

"Other kids are stupid, I am John." John said.

The boy stayed silent again, before a smile extended itself onto his lips and he crawled from under the bench. "I am Sherlock."

Sixty five minutes later, as they were investigating a large puddle of melted ice on the deck, the explosion coming from the prow, where everyone had gone to see the dolphins almost threw Sherlock off the ship.

John caught him violently and tucked him against him.

"John, John. We are going to sink," Sherlock whispered, and John could feel him starting to shake.

John was about to contradict him, when people began shouting and crying out.

"We have to find a lifeboat," said John, alarmed. But as soon as they began moving, a new explosion shook the boat and it tilted dangerously. John yelled at Sherlock to take a hold on the rail boat, as he threw himself around Sherlock and hold onto the rail as well.

Sherlock had been right, there were going to sink and all he could think about was that he had to save that amazing little boy and that his mother was probably dead.

"John, you can't keep doing this, you know. It's really very rare for a boy your age to be wanted by a family, why don't you ever give them a chance. I promise you that we will do everything we can to find your brother a wonderful family."

John frowned and crossed his arms. It was the third time he had been sent back by the family who had taken him from the orphanage. He hated them. He hated the fact that each time some parents decided they wanted him; he was not given a chance to argue. Only the certitude that if things didn't go well with the family he could come back prevented him from taking Sherlock – Eiden– with him, and disappearing.

"They could have kept me, if they had taken Eiden with me."

The woman sighed and closed her eyes.

In this little orphanage in Montrose, John and Eiden were infamous for their stubbornness in not being separated. It was as if no one, not even the chance to live with a loving family, could keep them apart.

They had been found on a floating bench, not far from where the ferry from Aberdeen to Reykjavik had sunk. There were among the twelve survivors of the tragic accident and no one had found any remaining families for either of them. Eiden had been in a bad shape, close to hypothermia, with a bad cut on his head that had earned him an intracranial surgery and the loss of his hair.

John had claimed they were brothers, John and Eiden Watson, and, as in a twist of fate, the record from the boat's passengers had been lost because of some kind of computer virus, no one had been able to find out who they really were.

They were lost boys.

Orphans.

Hello everyone. I hope you had a good read and weren't to put off by the certainly present mistakes I made. Excuse my french roots :) Please leave a review to let me know what you thought.

'Till the next chapter, folks and thanks for reading ^^

Blibl'