Chapter 3
Hi! Sorry for the longer wait this time, I've been going through power outages and such from Sandy, and running around figuring out when I'm doing PT, etc. Enjoy!
This might seem a bit choppy/rushed, I was writing this in a hurry.
Also: In chapter 1, there was a line that stated, "Sherlock, mum's getting worried, she asked you to get her sowing kit ages ag-". However, in chapter 2 we discovered that Sherlock and Mycroft were alone in the house. I can't figure out how to go back and edit chapters, so can we pretend that the line says, "Sherlock, you've been down there for a while, are you alright-"? Thanks
Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock. *heavy sigh*
The next morning, Sherlock awoke with little pain, his headache almost completely gone. His hand had begun to heal rather well according to John, so he was cleared to go out and do what he pleased.
Mycroft was beginning to trust John more as the time went on, probably because he was useful and could treat Sherlock when necessary, but he hadn't warmed up to the others. Therefore, he avoided them as much as possible.
Sherlock, on the other hand, spent his time with each person equally. Certainly, he'd go more in-depth when he talked to John and sat closer to him, as Mycroft trusted him, so he must be good. He'd still try to talk to the others constantly, although Anderson remained silent and as still as a stone when spoken to. Lestrade and Donovan were more cooperative, Lestrade marginally more than Donovan, but she had taken a liking to the younger Sherlock.
Sherlock sat next to Donovan on the couch, his legs dangling over the edge of the couch. "What's your name?" he asked, beaming.
Donovan tried to hide her grin. God, he was cute as a seven year old.
"Sally Donovan." Donovan replied. "And you're Sherlock Holmes, yeah?"
Sherlock nodded. "Sally…can I call you Sally?"
Donovan let her grin show. The every-day Sherlock rarely called her Sally, in fact, only called her Sally when he was taunting her. Then again, she always called him a freak when she was taunting him…has she ever called him by his first name before now?
As she contemplated this, her grin started to slip, and Sherlock looked at her worriedly. "Did I say something? I said something, didn't I?" he asked, the end of his question more of a muse to himself.
Sally shook her head. "No, no, you just…reminded me of someone I need to apologize to." She murmured, knowing that living with this younger version of Sherlock might open up her eyes to how he became how he was in the future. Because if he was this happy as a child, how did he become the cold-hearted detective she knew him as? Or did she even know him at all?
Sherlock noticed Sally's vibes of guilt coming off of her like waves; the realization crushes him. What had he done to remind her of this friend of hers? Obviously he was a friend, or at least she was beginning to think of him in that way. Otherwise she wouldn't feel so guilty.
Sherlock shrugged and walked off to ask Mycroft a question when he bumped into Lestrade and Anderson. He had been turning a corner when they came around, and he literally bumped into Anderson, right around his waist.
He almost fell backwards, but Lestrade quickly raced forward and helped steady him. Sherlock smiled sheepishly at the pair of them. "Thanks," he murmured, looking pointedly at Lestrade.
Lestrade grinned at Sherlock's expression. It kept striking him how young he was, how long he had until Lestrade would begin to play a role in his life. Lestrade had met him when he was about twenty three, and right after he gave Sherlock his first case and threatened to not give him any more until he had quit his drug habit, Sherlock went to rehab. He couldn't even imagine this child becoming the Sherlock Holmes he knew today.
Lestrade ruffled Sherlock's hair absent-mindedly. "You're welcome. Where are you going?"
"To Mycroft," he replied simply. "I want to go to the park. He always takes me to the park on Sundays."
Anderson's eyebrows furrowed. "You go to the park?" he asked, his tone not as sharp as it would have been if he were talking to the older Sherlock, but still slightly harsh for talking to a seven year old.
Sherlock frowned slightly. "Yes…why do you sound so surprised?"
"Well…you're Sherlock." Anderson replied, and Lestrade tried to warn him off, but Sherlock cut him off.
"What does that have to do with anything?" Sherlock questioned, his eyebrows narrowing. It was hard for a seven year old to look angry without looking too adorable, but Sherlock could pull off the paralyzing look.
"Well, back at the Yard, it doesn't seem like anything you would-" Anderson started to say, but Lestrade quickly cut him off with a jab to the ribs. Anderson glared at him, and then whitened as he realized his mistake.
"Wha-" Sherlock began, but Lestrade grimaced and interrupted him.
"We've got to be going, lots of things to do, people to see-" Lestrade answered quickly and walked out of Sherlock's sight, but he still heard his last remark.
"You don't have people to see, you just stay at the house!" Sherlock cried out. Lestrade didn't reply and simply kept walking. Sherlock rolled his eyes and kept walking to meet Mycroft.
Unfortunately, Mycroft was talking with John at the time, and although Sherlock appreciated John and liked having him around, he had been waiting a long time to get to talk with Mycroft- that talk in the hallway was a long time for a seven year old.
"Oh, hey, Sherlock," John remarked as he saw Sherlock sneak into the kitchen near where Mycroft was standing.
Sherlock smiled back and waved slightly, still edging closer to Mycroft. "Mye," Sherlock murmured, reverting to his nickname for Mycroft. "Can we go to the park now? I've been waiting an awful long time."
Mycroft rolled his eyes. "You have not, you're only five minutes later than usual!" he pointed out, and Sherlock frowned.
"That's still a long time." He grumbled. John grinned at him, the younger Sherlock reminding him about the Sherlock back at home.
"I can go with you," John offered. Sherlock beamed at the prospect, but then looked up at Mycroft.
"Mye?" he asked, looking up at his brother with what John could only describe as "puppy-dog eyes". He never imagined he would see Sherlock do that.
Mycroft sighed. "He can come with us, but I'm just not comfortable having him go alone with you." He replied.
John nodded. "I understand."
Sherlock's face brightened, and he grabbed John's hand and started to lead him out of the kitchen. "C'mon!" he cried out, giggling slightly. "It'll be fun!"
John smiled at Sherlock. The giggling, smiling, happy child…as a child, he'd put his emotions on his sleeve. As an adult, however, Sherlock did anything but that. John could only wonder what had happened in between.
SSSSSSSSSSS
In the basement, someone overheard the conversation between John, Mycroft, and Sherlock. John coming to the park wouldn't help with his plan, especially since the man had military training, but he suspected it wouldn't make too much of a difference. John may have his gun, but the man in the basement had one as well.
As soon as he heard the door close from upstairs, signaling that John, Mycroft, and Sherlock had just left, the man turned off the safety on his gun. As soon as he dealt with the people in the house, he could get to the park. He could get to him.
The man knew he could sneak out of the house un-noticed, but it would be more fun this way. Knowing they hadn't been able to stop him…leaving them with that would been much more fun than just leaving un-noticed.
He started up the stairs.
