It took quite a lot of convincing to get Sherlock in his police car. At first the boy had flat out refused, probably suspecting that Lestrade would 'take him away' as he kept saying. Greg couldn't help but wonder what he meant by that 'take him away', away where? Was he afraid of children's homes? Or did he mean something more sinister?
Eventually Sherlock agreed to get in the car but only if he could sit in the front seat so he could see where they were going. Lestrade knew it was against the law but he could tell it was the only way he'd get the child in the vehicle.
Once he had entered the car himself he noticed even more strange behavior from Sherlock. He squirmed in his seat, not nervously but curiously, as if he wasn't really sure how to position himself and he seemed unaware that he needed a seatbelt. Lestrade confirmed this when he pointed it out to the boy and he spent several seconds examining the device before clicking it into the holder.
Surely he'd been in a car before?
"I've ridden a bus." Sherlock spoke up, once again magically deducing what the inspector was thinking, "If I have been in a car I do not remember it, at least not a car like this."
"What do you mean, 'a car like this'?" Lestrade asked.
Sherlock stayed silent. Lestrade decided it was probably best not to push the subject just yet.
Sherlock directed him through the streets until they were in a very unsavory part of town. Sherlock flung the car door open and was out as soon as Lestrade had stopped it, the inspector was beginning to think the boy was claustrophobic.
Of course that suspicion was prove wrong when he saw Sherlock tear the vent shaft off a small wall and drop down into an old, very small basement. Lestrade could barely fit through it himself, in fact, were he a size larger he probably would of found himself stuck.
"Shrl'ck?"
The slurred voice came from a small ball under a thin blanket at the back of the room, Lestrade observed the small space and noticed the empty backpack and few possessions spread out over the floor. Was this all they had?
"John...I um, I couldn't find any money." Sherlock addressed the bundle as it slowly unwound and John's spotted face popped out. Just as Lestrade had though;
Chickenpox.
John glared when he saw Lestrade and instantly he'd lightly pushed Sherlock behind him.
"What are you doing here?" He growled, "Why can't you leave us alone?!"
"John, you've got chickenpox, you're sick." Lestrade explained crouching down near the boys, "It's contagious, if you and Sherlock stay close together he's going to get it too. He might already have it and not started showing yet."
John inched away from Sherlock a bit at that but made sure he was still between the young boy and Lestrade.
"Sherlock found me and bought me here to help you." Lestrade continued, "But you have to let me."
He watched as the boys eyes flicked behind him, no doubt to where his knife was laying. But Lestrade doubted that he could be a threat in his condition, the boy looked exhausted and flushed with fever, not to mention the spots.
"He bought me here in his car, John." Sherlock told him, "He could of driven me off somewhere but he didn't."
"You got in his car!?" John snapped.
"Yes, but he didn't hurt me. I think he can help, John." Sherlock whispered.
John looked back and forth between Sherlock and Lestrade before he relented.
"Alright. But if you try anything funny, we're out." John snarled.
Sherlock nodded in agreement before quickly gathering up their things in the backpack and helping John up, being careful not to touch the spots. Again it took some convincing to get the boys in the car, seeings as only one could fit in the front seat and neither felt comfortable letting the other sit alone.
Finally Sherlock took the front seat at John's insistence.
"If you see any trouble you jump out okay? I'll be right behind you." He heard the older boy whisper.
Lestrade decided it was best to try and be as honest as possible with the boys.
"Okay, I'm going to take you to a clinic not too far from my house. I have a friend who is a doctor there, she can help you and give Sherlock a shot to make him immune to the disease." Sherlock told them.
He couldn't help but notice the boys flinch when he said the word 'shot'.
Once again the boys hurried out of the car as soon as it had stopped, John was a little sluggish though. Luckily Sarah wasn't too busy today and was happy to help once Lestrade had explained the situation. They lead the boys down the hall and into her consulting room.
"Now, John is it?" She asked kindly, "I need you to sit up on the table and take your shirt off so I can listen you your breathing and check the severity of your illness."
"No." John refused, "I'm not taking my clothes off!"
"Just your shirt and jacket." Lestrade explained.
John refused again, the inspector sighed.
"Why don't we give Sherlock his shot then, he just needs to roll up his sleeve." Sarah suggested, revealing a small needle from her draw. Sherlock shrunk back.
"John says that stuff's bad..." He mumbled, John nodded.
"It is, we're smarter than you think." John crossed his arms, "That stuff makes you act crazy!"
The doctor and the inspector shared a look. Quickly Sarah explained the difference between her needle and the ones they had seen.
"It's what's in the needle," She explained, "This is medicine that stops you from getting sick."
Like most things it took a lot of convincing but finally Sherlock relented and took the shot, he didn't even flinch.
"Have you seen many people using things like this?" Lestrade asked gently to both boys, they shared a look and didn't speak. Eventually John nodded.
"You wont tell me when or who though, am I right?" Greg guessed, John nodded.
Sarah went back to trying to convince John to remove his shirt and once again the boy point blank refused until Sherlock started as well.
"They helped so far." He pointed out.
John made a face.
"I swear I'll step away if you feel uncomfortable." Sarah promised. God this woman was a saint, lord knows she was used to compliant patients.
He shed his jacket fine but when he got to his shirt the boy slowed down, if Lestrade didn't know any better he'd say the boy was, self-conscious?
When the garment was finally removed the inspectors eyes honed in on the scar on the boys shoulder, just below the armpit. It was a very recognizable starburst pattern that often happen when somebody was shot with a bullet.
Lestrade felt his blood boil. Somebody had shot this kid.
Sarah gasped but tactfully didn't say anything and began inspecting the boy over and applying calamine lotion to the spots. Sherlock was enthralled as she explained how the cream worked, John just shifted uncomfortably.
"You should be fine soon," Sarah smiled, "A few days rest and you will be all good, and the spots should be gone within a week tops, you've got a very good immune system. Just take some aspirin for the fever and it will be over before you know it."
She snapped her gloves off and left the room, eyeing Lestrade as she went. Obviously hinting that he should talk to the boys about the scar.
First things first.
"Sherlock, please can you show me your neck?" Lestrade asked, Sherlock looked to John first but did unwind the ratty thing, revealing a similar scar to John's just as he's suspected.
"Do you boys have any other scars?" He asked, silence. Oh well it was worth a shot.
"Who shot you, John?" He asked seriously.
John eyed him.
"I can tell that injury is a few years old, what happened?" Lestrade asked again, "Obviously it wasn't well treated."
He suddenly found himself praying that the boys didn't sew it up themselves.
"Why do you care?" John asked, there was less bite in this question, he sounded genuinely confused.
"Because you shouldn't of been hurt that way." Lestrade answered, "Who ever did that should be in jail."
"I don't get it." Sherlock said finally.
"Get what?" Lestrade questioned.
"You." John answered for him, "We haven't promised you anything, we haven't made any more deals, yet your helping us. Why?"
"Because it's the right thing to do." Lestrade gaped.
This answer seemed to confused the boys even more and it made Lestrade feel strangely protective of them. Had nobody ever done anything right by them? Out of the goodness of their hearts?
"So, if I asked you to get us more food, you'd do it? Even if I didn't give you anything in return?" John asked, Lestrade nodded.
"You need it obviously, you're both too skinny."
Now they just seemed even more confused, so Lestrade took another route.
"John, if you found food right now what would you do?"
"I'd eat it with Sherlock." He replied with a shrug.
"What if there wasn't enough for both of you?"
"Then I'd let Sherlock eat it and find more for myself."
"Why?"
John blinked.
"Well, because he's important to me." John answered, "But that can't be why you're helping us, you don't know us, you can't care."
Lestrade let of a breath of frustration, not at the boys but at the world for being so cruel to them. Without thinking he placed his hands on his hips, brushing back his coat and revealing his handgun to the boys who spotted it. The reaction was instant.
Sherlock was up on the table with John pulling him close, like a shield. The idea was slightly laughable really considering Sherlock was much smaller that John and only covered about half of him but the love behind the action was important.
"Don't shoot him!" Sherlock yelled.
"What?"
Sherlock's eyes flicked to Lestrade's belt and back to his face.
"Oh, no no Sherlock I'm not going to shoot anybody." Lestrade promised.
"That's what police do!" Sherlock argued.
Click.
"A policeman shot you?" Lestrade asked John, his silence answered for him.
What sort of officer would even discharge his weapon near a child?
"Look." Lestrade said quietly slowly taking the gun out of the holster and placing it on the floor before kicking it away.
Sherlock uncurled himself from John who looked even more perplexed.
"Here's what's going to happen." Lestrade explained, "I'm going to take you to my place okay? Not a children's home or the police station, you can stay with me for a bit. You can stay together and I promise I'm not going to harm either of you."
Both boys looked conflicted, like they both really wanted to say yes but their guts were saying 'no'.
"Tell you what," Lestrade tried, "I have a spare house key, so you can leave if you feel threatened, okay?"
John looked to Sherlock and back to the inspector warily.
"Okay."
Yes I know in real life Sherlock would most likely of already contracted chickenpox from being so close to John and that the shot wouldn't of worked but for the sake of an interesting story lets just say it does :P
I'll start having the boys past come through soon but I had to lay the ground work first.