Chapter 2: Don´t touch me

His brother´s apartment is in the middle of London, apparently being the only 'normal' child in a family gives you a few or better most of the attention and worshipping a parent can have. But Sherlock didn't look out of the window to appreciate the view, or sits on the sofa that is covered with the softest cushions he would ever have touched.

To be precise Sherlock didn't touch anything in the room or in the car, the elevator or on the way to and from the car. His hands deep in his coat pockets his hoody over his head and a scarf around his neck that covers his mouth and nose were only his eyes left outside. He didn't want to feel the new world that is offered to him. He didn't want to touch the walls or the handle for the window. He doesn't want to be touched. His brother tries to come closer but with an angry shout 'Don't touch me' his brother stops where he stands and let Sherlock be. There wasn't much room to go further back and Mycroft didn't want to escalate the already delicate situation.

He explained to Sherlock that he was his legal guardian from now on and that Sherlock would live with him. He could get a private teacher if he wants or anything else that is missing in his life. The only thing Sherlock wants to know was where he would sleep. Mycroft showed him his new room and was thanked for by a quickly shut door and the sound of a key turning in its lock.

Sherlock didn't come out of the room, no one was allowed inside. The room had a separated bathroom but Mycroft wishes his brother would come out. He hadn't thought Sherlock would change one prison for another but he wouldn't break down the door. He told that Sherlock through the locked door but also that he would do so if Sherlock wouldn't start to eat. The meals that stand in front of the door were untouched since two days.

As Mycroft came across the door the next morning one of the meals was gone and only an empty plate was left. Smiling Mycroft takes it to the kitchen. Baby steps.

Mycroft left a few books behind next to the door and the breakfast hoping his brother would take them in his room to get at least a bit entertainment. The books and the breakfast gone the next time he crossed the hall.

Life goes on. Mycroft had to go back to work but never forget to place food and books or the newspaper next to his brother´s room. He always told him his plans for today. Told him about the food and what book he chooses for what reason. Sherlock rarely answered but it was a beginning.

Until Mycroft came home late one evening and discover an uneaten meal and not touched books. Knocking at Sherlock´s door he gets no answer but as he tried the handle the door opens an offers Mycroft an empty room.

Panic and regret eat him alive while he uses every force to find his brother but Sherlock was gone and wasn't found.

As his unit enters the abdomen building Lestrade feels the heavy air of mistrust, desperation and the sweet taste of lies. Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade was one of the gifted, like his colleague Sergeant Sally Donavan. Her ability was in many situations the far more useful. She could tell what kind of gift has a person. She needs to be close but far enough to be save. Many lives were saved by that ability. His own gift isn't really useful until it comes to interrogations. He is a living lie-detector. Very useful indeed but first they have to find a suspect first.

The building, rumor say the base of a drug cartel. The place where the drugs get to the street worker but all they found until now where the sad remains of people who had lost themselves in the poison they put into their body. Sally is in front of him checking the sleeping and unconscious people for powers. They had gifted people before when they feel trapped they didn't know what they are doing.

In one of the last rooms they found a lonely and very small figure on the floor. Even hidden under a blanked with gloves and a hoody Lestrade knows that this isn't a man, it is only a boy. Lestrade wants to run to him but is stopped very forcefully.

"Stop sir. He is dangerous." He looked at her with a lifted eye brown but stopped.

"What is it?" He asks and by the look in her eyes of pure fear he can think of a few possibilities.

"Sir, he … he is death. I mean he brings death, I don't know but his touch would kill you instantly." Oh, one of the few very unlucky. There was only one way someone finds out that he can kill with touch, by killing.

"Poor boy." Lestrade slowly walked over to the by, the evidence of heavy drug use are all around him. He takes on a pair of gloves as he kneed down next to the boy and lays a hand very carefully on the clothes covered shoulder.

"Hey kiddo, can you wake up for me and tell me your name." The last word was spoken as Lestrade´s hand touches the boy´s shoulder.

A sudden movement shots through the small body. "Don't touch me." He shouts and moves back further to the wall. His whole body was shaking out of fear and exhaustion.

"I know, I won´t touch your skin, alright. I will be careful. Look I wear gloves and I only touched you over your clothes." Lestrade talked in a low voice to not startle the boy more but while he was talking the boy starts to mumble to himself. He could hear words like 'hurt' and 'kill' and 'sorry'. Not the words you would like to hear out of the mouth of a teenager.

"No one will hurt you or get hurt, promise but we need to bring you to the hospital." Lestrade could feel the fear of hurting someone in the words but he needs the boy to come with him without a fight. Because with his abilities the fight would be a bit unfair and traumatic for the boy. The boy´s eyes begin to shut again, the drugs in his system are still working far too well.

"Here is the deal. I will come with you and tell everyone not to touch you. There will no one be in danger and you get the medical help you need. The doctors and nurses are trained for a situation like that. They know what to do. Like I know that I can´t touch your skin. Come on give me your hand." He reached out and the boy eyed the gloved hand, then his own that were covered with black leader gloves before he took the hand and let Lestrade help him on his feet. Lestrade notice that Donavan takes another step back from the boy. She could see things he didn't but she had warned him and that's is enough.

Holding the swearing boy out of the building to the waiting ambulance wasn't as easy as Lestrade had thought. With every step the boy let more of his weight fall on Lestrade until he was lifting the not really heavy boy out of the door and carrying him to the waiting paramedic.

Informing them was the first he did. Living in a dangerous world had made the people carful especially with the ones own a dangerous power. But both work professional around Sherlock, after wearing protection suits that covered their whole body. As hurt as you could feel for people to bring a wall of fabric between you and them, Lestrade guessed Sherlock was thankful for that. No one likes to kill another person by accident. You didn't choose the power you get.

Sherlock´s first impression of his surrounding was the smell of disinfection, hospital smell. He had always a strong sense of smell and he hated the one of hospitals. The laboratory he used to live in had a smell close to it. Not so much sickness but the smell of preventing and fear. He couldn't remember how he ended up in a hospital but the coming and going of strangers by his room only convinced him that he was right about his whereabouts. He didn't react as someone touched his arm. Simple because he felt the fabric of hospital clothes and the heard the sound of plastic from a protection suit. He was used to be around people with these kinds of suits to protect themselves from him and his curse.

As the person, most likely a nurse left again he heard something else. Someone to be precise. It was the steady sound of turning pages in a report. The soft noise a piece of paper does if touched and changed to the next one.

He opens his eyes, the blurry shadow dissolves and he sees a man sitting in a chair close to his bed, not his brother and to Sherlock shock not wearing anything to protect him from his power. Looking closer he recognized that man; it was the police officer that talked to him in the old building he had hidden.

"So you are awake." The soft voice from before and out of his dreams spoke to him again. He like it and wasn't sure why. Sherlock preferred to stay silence until he knows what the police officer want and why he is waiting in his room in the first place.

"Can I call someone for you or would you tell me your name?" Mycroft wasn't informed jet, good.

"Good let start again. Hi, my name is Greg Lestrade. I am one of the police officer that found you at the scene of a crime with a massive overdose of god know what. You were lucky the hospital was close and the paramedic kept you alive long enough." He sounded a bit harsh but most people do that when they think you waste your life.

As Sherlock didn't answer and continued to stare at him, Lestrade returned to his case file. The reason for his visit at the building where he had found the boy was simple. He was looking for the man who had killed fifteen year old Jason McCarthy. The boy died at a drug overdose, the same the kid in front of him could have died. Someone was selling dangerous drugs to children and Lestrade would do everything to find that person. The problem is, no one talked. Not the dealer, the buyer or the so called witness in the neighborhood. There was no clue to follow to find out who sold that rubbish.

Deep in his thoughts Lestrade didn't notice the boy´s attention for the file. Didn't see him read the comments from interviews or the tox- report and the forensic evidence.

Sherlock know it was dangerous to stay at a place where people could touch him accidently but the only place where he could hide was his brothers flat. He could go back it would be so easy to just call him. Watching Lestrade by puzzling over the file Sherlock just starts to talk. It was a long time ago that he had talked to someone.

"Do you want the solution for that case or is it an old one and you just reading it for fun." Sherlock had no idea how to talk properly to another person who wasn't one of his doctors but he wanted to know the answer or give the man who had saved him something back.

"What do you mean by 'solution'? Don't tell me you can solve the case only by reading a few notes." Lestrade looked at him suspicious.

"Yes of course I could but I am also a customer and a witness to your so called case. I know where you can find the person behind the drug." Sherlock was confident about the origin of the drug, he saw the kitchen where it was made and he had no problem to show it a police officer.

Sherlock told Lestrade everything he knows, all he could get out of the file, what he saw and tasted himself. He just talked to the guy who had saved him, knows about his powers and wasn't afraid about it.

"Thank you that should help us..." Lestrade stopped, because he still didn't know the boy´s name.

"Sherlock Holmes. Could you call my brother? I think I want to go home again." He misses him a bit. And he needs to get away from here. It was saver in his brother´s house then in a hospital where everywhere are people who could touch him.

While Lestrade called Sherlock´s brother or better his assistance he thought about the bright young man. Most of the things he had told him came out of the files. Only the few notes that were visible the boy had solved a crime without problem. Maybe they could help each other.