A/N: I'm taking this a different directions than it maybe have been conveyed I will update the new summary soon :D so for now enjoy this new chapter :D
Chapter 2: Dreaming Wide Awake
John slowly but surely got himself moving after such a devastating heartbreak. It was one of the first times he's left the flat in the last two years. He was slowly dieing and going outside did not the condition any worse. Grabbing the thick black cane John limped out of the flat and down the stairs to the cabbie that Mrs. Hudson had called for him.
"Where to sir?" The cheerful cabbie asked him.
"St. Bartholomew's Hospital." John said grumpily as he made himself comfortable:
"Hey..." The cabbie remarked," I know you, you're that Watson bloke. You were Sherlock Holmes best buddy! Isn't today the first anniversary of his death?"
"Yeah..." Watson mumbled.
"Wow what happened involving that man had to be the greatest scandal London has ever seen for centuries since to London Ripper. To be honest I believe in Sherlock. I knew a guy who Sherlock solved a case for, incredible it was!" This was a first for John someone actually believed in Sherlock's innocence.
"Thank you." It didn't make much difference though to the world Sherlock was still a mass murderer. The cabbie arrived fairly quickly and John stepped out him limp nearly bring him to his knees as he stood on the spot where Sherlock landed.
John wasn't exactly a holy man, like Sherlock he was a man of science but in that moment. John fell into his knees and whispered a desperate prayer to the Lord Almighty to bring the man he loved home to him. Normally he would go up to the rooftop try to imagine what happened up there or why he had done it. Every time he was met with absolute failure.
So John skipped the rooftop and grabbed another cab to the cemetery where he approached Sherlock's grave with caution. He stood standing while talking nonstop to him about how much he missed him.
"Did you love him?" John turned around on a dime with a startle. The child had surprised him and he almost grabbed the gun that was safely held between his pants and his back. Ever since that fateful day John had never seized to carry his gun around with him everywhere he went. It was always in reaching distance in the apartment and he slept with one under the pillow.
"Excuse me?" John said alarmed.
"Did you love Mr. Holmes by the sound of your voice you're very concerned and feel much heart ache?"
John was shocked at the mouth on the kid considering he couldn't have been more than 9 years old.
"Yeah I cared for him a lot." John responded.
"Hamish!" A woman's voice rang out in desperation. She walked up with trouble unable to walk in a straight line while wearing heels. She gave the air of a lawyer, or an business woman.
"Hamish don't run away from me!" Odd, John thought, he has my middle name.
"Sorry Mrs. Cartwright." Hamish said half heartedly.
"By any chance of God are you John Watson?" Mrs. Cartwright asked now suddenly turning her attention to him.
"What... Oh yes! John Watson here."
"Good, I'm Mrs. Cartwright as Hamish here has pointed out. I'm head of child services in London. And I'm afraid I have bad news. You ex-wife Miss Adler was found dead a few days ago..."
"Wha..." He said confusion all over his face but he was cut off.
"And her will specifically mentions that you take custody of your son."
"Irene had a son..." He looked at the boy and suddenly realization hit him hard. The bold blue eyes, thick black curly hair, and prominent cheekbones all said one thing to him, Sherlock.
"Of... Of course..." John muttered.
"Good because I have a ton of work to do so can you just sign these?" She went through her bag and pulled out a bunch of papers.
"Sign here please..." John signed the papers quickly. "Thank you Mr. Watson we will be back to make a quick check on the child." She turned to leave in a hurry.
"Wait Mrs. Cartwright! How did Irene die?"
"She was killed!" She yelled carelessly and escaped away. He looked to Hamish who seemed to be unaffected by the words.
"John Watson..." He held out his hand to him to shake. He just looked with confusion.
"Hamish." He didn't say his last name that was peculiar.
"And your last name?"
"I don't know Irene always told me I wasn't her son..."
"What?" John was a little alarmed. If Hamish wasn't Irene's son who was he?
"Okay then, how bout we get going."
"The place where your father grew up... 221 Baker Street."
