"A temple to Korriban?"
"A temple to ancient artifacts. Most of them come from across the galaxy, however there is a section devoted to the Sith home world."
John sat astride his master's shoulders. The elder had been in a foul mood and had mercilessly teased him for his vertical…situation. Revenge tasted sweet as Sherlock ducked under a low doorway so John did not his head.
"Why would anyone want a section devoted to that?" The boy frowned as they entered a room filled with unusually high technology for Nivek. Clearly a nice benefactor had paid for that particular exhibit. John cringed at the sight of a Sith removing a Jedi's head in combat. The holoimages were graphic and disgusting, showing different depictions of Sith victories. John shrank against Sherlock's head. "This is disgusting."
"War history often is."
John squirmed viscously. His master squeezed his little feet until he stilled, the disadvantage to having bare feet was the exposure.
And John's feet were extremely ticklish.
Sherlock found an ancient skull set, he examined the decaying specimens gleefully. One of skulls were glinting brightly in the sun light. Sherlock nodded appreciatively at the care given to the ancient beings. John wrinkled his nose in disgust, he didn't understand who would polish a Sith's skull.
"Master, what are those?" John pointed to a wall of weapons, wanting to be away from the dead Sith Lords. Their dried eye sockets seemed to pierce through him, their frozen smiles seemed mocking.
"Ancient light sabers, little one. Powered by the Force itself and not power cells."
John breathed out excitedly. He leaned heavily backwards and hung onto his master's hair, the elder said nothing as the boy clung to him. "Wizard!"
Sherlock pulled John off his shoulder and let the boy run to the weapons.
Children and their weapons.
John looked carefully at the craftsmanship of blades, he examined the deep hand groves where the blades drank in the Force. Sherlock pulled the child close to his side with a proud smirk. "Red crystals are synthetic, Siths are not welcome on Ilium where we form our sabers. Some of them have even been known to shatter genuine light sabers."
John was nodding seriously, clearly coming up with his own back stories for the sabers. Sherlock lifted the boy onto his hip, needing closeness. John leaned near the glass. "Why did they change to power cells?"
"It drained their life force," Sherlock explained merrily. "They would die twenty years earlier than most."
"Fantastic!" John pushed forward excitedly.
"Yes," Sherlock kissed the boy's temple warmly. "The technology was later used to develop torture devices for the Sith."
"Can we see those next?" John begged eagerly.
"We are looking for data on the numbers, little one." Sherlock pressed his forehead to John's.
"Oh…"
Sherlock snorted at his dejected apprentice, the boy looked genuinely disappointed.
Mine.
"Okay, Master…but maybe later?"
"Maybe later," Sherlock promised.
My child.
John wiggled to be put down, Sherlock obliged him. The boy set off around the exhibit, no longer frightened by what they held. Sherlock watched him run joyfully.
"Excuse me. There is no running through the exhibits," A sharp voice snapped.
John froze at the enraged sound. His eyes shot to Sherlock who shrugged uninterestedly, just because other people's children ran around destroying things didn't mean his would. Sherlock motioned for John to come to him and was hurriedly obeyed. John hid shyly behind him as an official looking woman stalked through the door.
John muttered his apologies as the woman stared at him wrathful. Sherlock rolled his eyes, honestly the child had done nothing other than looked excitedly at exhibits.
Being punished for being interested, how dull.
Sherlock withdrew the piece of paper with numbers scrawled across it and pressed it into the she devil's hand. "I need to know what these are for," Sherlock said swiftly, his fingers dove into his pockets and produced his datapad. "Clearly they are numbers, but what are they used for?"
"Counting," the temple madam snorted.
John giggled involuntarily. Sherlock shot him a silencing glare, John blushed and bowed his head snickering.
"Little one."
"You're the one who says to laugh at yourself," John protested.
"Yourself. You, John. Not me." Sherlock's tone suggested that it was obvious what he meant the whole time. John merely leaned into his teacher with a shake of the head. The woman examined the numbers closely.
"This would be something for Soo Lin to decipher," the official said thoughtfully. "If this even is a code," she added stupidly.
"Where is she then?" Sherlock glanced down to find John gone from his side. The boy was peeking at his Sith tablets and back at the holoimage of Korriban. He sat cross legged on the floor and pulled out his studies.
Willingly.
Papers began to flutter to the ground as John compared notes to the small voice over the intercom telling him about its history. Pride burst in Sherlock's chest as his child took down every detail and cross examined data.
"Sir?"
Silence.
"Sir?"
Sherlock maintained his focus on John.
"Master!" John called. "Master! How was the temple destroyed? It isn't in the archives or the notes."
Sherlock opened his mouth to call back to the child, but was cut off by a low hissing noise.
"Master? The child is a slave?" The official sounded disgusted. Sherlock visibly bristled at the word "slave". Already her eyes were scanning the child for a brand.
No. No, John should never be mistaken as a slave. He was a perfectly healthy and happy boy, a free boy.
"He is my padawan," Sherlock said coldly. "My student."
She glared at him for a long time. "Did you hear what I said?"
"Obviously not," he snapped.
Startled by the anger that shown across their bond, John turned to his mentor fearfully. Anxiety shone brightly in his eyes. He poked the other half of their bond gently, Sherlock quieted him softly.
"I said she's gone, sir."
Sherlock's eyes widened. "How long? Where was she last seen? Were there any remains?"
She scowled at him angrily, before twisting angrily on her heel. She stalked away from him without a second glance. Sherlock watched her go.
Honestly sometimes he didn't understand people.
John hurried to him. "Master, did you find out about the numbers?"
"I found a name. Soo Lin."
John pulled on his mater's hand until Sherlock looked down at him, the sky blue eyes blinked rapidly. The boy put his small feet on his master's boots and found his balance. Affection danced across their bond, replacing the anger. Sherlock stepped out of his boots and placed John in them.
It was cold, the boy refused to wear his own.
John stomped around the exhibit jubilantly in his master's boots.
"Come on then, Master!"
oOo
They discovered Soo Lin's hut.
"But I can help!" the boy protested.
"Stay out here, little one," Sherlock commanded. The boy was trying desperately to dart pass the Jedi, but a long arm stopped him. Light sea green eyes glared down at him reproachfully. "You swore, youngling."
"But I wanna help! Please, Master!"
Sherlock knelt down in front of the boy and took his shoulders. "John, you will stay out here, or you will go home."
John stomped his foot down fiercely. Anger blossomed across the Force with a white flame, John did not understand why his master refused his help. Exasperated he threw his hands in the air. "That isn't fair to threaten!"
"One isn't fair when dealing with a clever fox, little one." Sherlock touched his cheek tenderly before twisting around to enter the hut. "Stay here, John. That is a direct order."
John sniffled loudly, but nodded his acceptance to a back. His master was entering the small hut without a backwards glance. John stared at the closing door hatefully.
"Kriff this. Kriff this if you think I'm not helping you, Master," he muttered angrily.
With that the padawan of Sherlock Holmes turned on his heel to search for clues of any kind.
oOo
The first thing the knight noticed was the snow built up around the doorway.
The second was the lack of foot prints underneath the snow.
No one had been home in a week.
Sherlock stepped into the dimly light hut, his eyes scanned over a bowl of rotten fruit, a pile of dirty clothes, and furniture with dust layered thickly over top. There was an adjourned bedroom that had its door half open. Sherlock made his way across the rooms sniffing the air aggressively.
Something reeked terribly.
Sherlock noted the stank primarily came from the bedroom, perhaps there had been a murder.
Delicious.
"John!"
The boy remained silent. Sherlock inched towards the bedroom eagerly. "Little one!"
Still silent.
"I know you are angry, young one, but you could respond."
He opened the door all the way slowly, emptiness greeted him.
But no dirt nor dust.
At least none on this floor. He moved steadily towards the closet in the corner of the room. Evidently the floor had been walked on, but only the bedroom floor.
The children had been stolen with their parents in the other room.
Oh that was clever.
Was it clever?
"John!"
Stillness.
How could the boy still be miffed at him? Did it usually take children this long to get over something? The boy was being unreasonable.
Wasn't he?
"Padawan!" Sherlock reached for the closet door. "Oh for Force sake, boy! I order you to answer me, how's that, little one?"
He turned away from the closet, no longer sensing John's Force signature. Steadying himself in the Force Sherlock reached for John's half of the bond, the child did not respond.
John? Little one! Wher-
A strong pressure enveloped tightly around the knight's throat, cutting off his breath. Panic would have rose in his throat if it hadn't been constricted. A sturdy power was pushing him to his knees. Lights danced in front of his eyes, he grasped at the rope that tightened around his neck.
Sherlock reached swiftly for his saber and slashed through the rope desperately. The shocked assailant stumbled back, hissing violently. Sherlock ripped the remaining rope from his throat and turned his saber towards his opponent. A man dressed completely in black fell backwards from the blade.
"Where is John?" Sherlock seethed hatefully.
The attacker drew his own red blade, a dark blood crystal hung from his neck.
"Do not think I shan't kill you. Where is the boy?"
The attacker merely flashed pointed teeth and pounced out a window, shattering it.
"Welcome back to the game, Padawan Holmes."
oOo
John nearly fell from his perch.
Sherlock was pressing on his mind shields so insistently that the boy nearly doubled over in pain. At once he dropped his shields and gave into his master's will. The knight pressed their minds together angrily. Pain ripped through his body as Sherlock's mind invade into John's space, pushing aside the child's own thought process.
Ow! Ow, Master!
Sherlock seemed relieved to hear John's voice, his mental push became less adamant. Still enough to hurt and make the boy stay completely immobile, but it no longer felt like someone was stabbing a saber in his brain.
Master was going to hate him, or at least brood for the rest of the day.
John's body refused to obey his commands to move, it waited for permission only from Sherlock. The knight was nowhere to be seen, and John did not sense him to be anywhere near.
Master, I can't-
I know. I am keeping you in place, so you do not run away again.
What? I was helping!
There was no response as John fought against his teacher's mental restraints. Footsteps crunched close to the boy, John would have flinched if he had been allowed. Sherlock at last freed him.
"What was that for?" The boy cried, completely shaken. His master had never physically punished him before. Not that he would count that as physical punishment, no doubt Master could do far worse.
Sherlock took a step towards the padawan, John stumbled backwards.
"You didn't have to…I was trying to help, Master! I even found something." Tears soaked the frightened child cheeks. He didn't understand why Sherlock had invaded his mind so angrily.
"Stop it," Sherlock ordered. "It was a technic to keep you in place should anyone be trying to take you."
"You could have asked!" John trembled. "You could have asked instead of scaring me! I thought- I thought you…"
He didn't know what to think.
Sherlock stared at the boy for a long time.
He had an easy way of unnerving the child.
"There was a Lotus member in Soo Lin's hut. You weren't responding to our empathy link, I thought you had been taken."
"Master, I was…w-what happened to your neck?" John at once forgot he was afraid of Sherlock and rushed to him. When the knight refused to pick him up he climbed his way up a nearby tree. Gingerly he tilted Sherlock's head and examined the wound.
"Why didn't you answer me?" Sherlock demanded.
"Because…" John reached for his sack and pulled out medical supplies. He set to work applying bacta ointment.
"Yes?"
"Because technically I was still following orders, even though I had wandered off…if I had answered you, you may have ordered me back before I wrote all this down." John pulled a scrap of paper from his inner pockets. He handed to Sherlock as a peace offering.
Sherlock hissed in pain as John touched a precise sore spot. He glanced down at paper he had been handed.
"I found it in the forest, craved into a tree. I think it is more numbers." John finished applying medicine and slid from the tree. "Are you very angry, Master?"
"Yes," Sherlock replied stiffly. John's face fell. "Were you very frightened?"
"Yes." John still had fear in his eyes as picked at a small hole on his tunics. His bare toe prodded a snow filled bush. Sherlock leant towards his padawan slowly, gradually he clasped the boy to his shoulder.
John whimpered as he felt warmth spread through him.
Sherlock still cared.
Sherlock still loved him.
John wanted to nestle into him, but concerns for his master's neck injury stopped him. John rested his head against a strong shoulder and shut his eyes. Sherlock had frightened the poodoo out of him when he was immobilized. He knew Master was strong, but he didn't know that there was the possibility of overriding someone's mind. John turned his face into Sherlock's collar bone.
"You still haven't said you how you got this, Teacher."
"Soo Lin-"
"You got beat up by a girl!" John pulled away to stare into his master's grey eyes. His nose wrinkled as he snickered.
"Soo Lin's house was being guarded. They were waiting for her. I have told you this before," Sherlock swatted the blond head lightly.
Incredibly lightly.
John knew it was an apology for freezing his limbs. John held onto his teacher with acceptance in his heart. He hated being mad at Sherlock, there was no worse feeling than knowing the knight was upset.
"How are we going find Soo Lin now?" John muttered against the strong body. "What do the numbers mean?"
"Patience. Answers will present themselves to an open mind."
"Yes, Master."
"I need to see someone about a skull."