Sherlock and John didn't argue with 's request for a sit down, following him to a small, nearby cafe. The three men took up a booth seat in the corner by the window, raindrops making a steady pitter-pattering sound on the glass. Sherlock and John sat on one side of the booth while the distressed looking social worker sat across from them, setting his briefcase on the table and clicking it open. Sherlock sat with his elbows propped on the table, fingertips to his lips, obviously trying to deduce the situation at hand.
"Now, like I said, it's come to my attention that you haven't read your sister's will. Am I correct?" asked, as he shuffled through numerous files.
"I didn't even know she made one. So, no." John replied a bit sullenly. Why Harry would even have reason to make a will was beyond him. She'd always been too drunk to hardly sign her name on the bill at a bar.
"I suggest you take a look, then." responded, pushing a slightly wrinkled piece of paper over the table at John, who took it in his hands gently, as if it might fall apart at his touch. There were a few graying stains on it, which John didn't need Sherlock to tell him it was from beer. He sighed, and began to graze his tired eyes over the wilting paper. To his surprise, Sherlock wasn't looming over his shoulder reading it also, he was simply watching John's expression from the corner of his eye, perhaps out of concern.
The beginning of the will was the usual, talking about items in her possession that could be of some sort of value, giving them away to better homes. Most things were either given to John or a few of her close girlfriends. Then John's eyes came across the paragraph which must've been what had been here to talk about.
Now, John. I know this is probably too much to ask of you, but I need you to take care of Colin. I'm aware you two aren't even acquainted, but he's your nephew, and I can only hope you'll love him as much as I do. He's hardly 5, and he's been living with Clara until recently, when she got in a fatal car accident. I know it's coming close to my time, and putting him in an orphanage seems cruel, so he's yours now. Please give him all the love he deserves, he's really a good kid.
After that, the will continued on with a couple goodbyes and sorry's, Harry never was one for being formal so her will seemed very personal. John finished reading with an uncomfortable lump in his throat, his lips pressed together in a thin line. He handed the paper back to . "So, where is he?" John asked, swallowing back his sorrow.
"He's under the orphanage's care right now. We needed your verdict on the situation before he could move in with you. If you decline he will stay in the children's home, and be up for adoption." Mr. Dwelling replied, returning the will to his briefcase.
John opened his mouth to say, "No! Of course he'll be staying with me. If I couldn't be there for my sister, surely I'll be there for her son." but then he remembered his flatmate, taking a risky glance over to him. Sherlock sat up straight, placing his folded hands on the table. He turned his head towards John, his face unreadable.
"Sherlock..." John began softly, as if not to set him on edge. It was obvious Sherlock had figured out what was going on. "You don't...mind, do you?"
It seemed to take every ounce of sheer will in Sherlock's body for him to shake his head ever so slightly. John gave a small, thankful smile in return, and turned back to face . "When will he be moving in, then?"
"Well, there are still legal matters to attend to, so I'd figure after all official processes, you could have him entirely in your custody by next week, if things go smoothly." replied, sliding out of the booth, his thin body standing rimrod straight. John slid out of the booth also, Sherlock following close behind. held out his hand for John, who took it reluctantly. After a solemn thank you, the men parted their ways outside the cafe doors, taking a swift right, and Sherlock and John heading off to their left.
Sherlock raised an arm as a familiar black cab sped near, taking a slow stop towards the edge of the pavement to pick up it's customers. The two huddled inside, Sherlock rambling off their address to the cabbie and they went off.
The ride was silent for the first couple of minutes, but John's burning curiosity got to the better of him. "Are you sure you're okay with this? A five year old boy coming to live with us?" He asked, the words coming out in a hurried jumble.
"He's your nephew." Sherlock stated rather impassively. "You feel as if you owe this to Harriet. I'm not going to get in your way of that."
John stayed silent for a moment. Of course Sherlock knew why he felt as if he needed to do this. "Thank you, Sherlock. I know it's a lot to ask of you, you not being overly fond of kids and all."
"I'm sure I'll survive. As long as he doesn't mess with my experiments or bother my thinking process." Sherlock replied in a steady tone.
"I'm sure I can keep him out of your way." John assured.
"What's his name?"
This surprised John, remembering he hadn't mentioned the boys name. And Sherlock hadn't bothered to take a glance at the will. John could hardly imagine Sherlock calling a child by name, and not simply by something demeaning like 'pet' or 'little one'. "Colin. Colin Watson." John answered.
Sherlock gave a small nod and mumble in acknowledgement. Taking the name and storing it away someplace inside his mind palace.
The cab pulled up at Baker Street, Sherlock hopping out and leaving John to pay, which didn't surprise him. It was the least John could do anyways. After all, asking Sherlock Holmes to live with a five-year-old seemed like the largest nuisance the genius' life could acquire.