IV. THE RUNAWAYS
Sherlock was running through the dark corridors of the building, his ears pounding with each step. He had to find John and tell him everything and they had to hide – go away.
The woman and the man wanted to take John away from him and not let him come back. They didn't care that Sherlock would be alone if John went away or that the other kids would hurt him because he was too smart for them and they were stupid.
They wanted to take John away from him; Saying how John only needed to understand that having a family was worth it, that it was better than to be stuck here, no matter how he loved Sherlock.
Sherlock couldn't let that happen. And he knew - of course he knew - that John wouldn't let that happen either. He had sworn to Sherlock that he would never leave him.
Sherlock's bare feet slowed down when he arrived at their room's door and he opened it violently, sending it crashing onto the wall.
John, who had been dozing with a book on his chest, started and sat up abruptly.
His eyes widened and he quickly stood up, hurrying at Sherlock's side. The little boy just now realized that tears were running down his cheeks.
"Hey, Locki, what's going on?" John asked, obviously worried. He knew how rarely Sherlock cried.
"They are going to send you away John. They said they wouldn't let you come back anymore. They said that the family that would take you next should know that you will be difficult at first because you'll want to come back here. They won't let you come back," he whined, and threw himself into John's arms.
"They won't let you come back," he repeated, and he could feel John tensing against him.
"No, Sherlock," John said. And Sherlock swallowed and tried to stop his tears because he was a big boy and only little boys and stupid boys cried. And he was brave.
John always said that he was very brave.
He let go of John and took a step back. Of course, John would say no. He knew John wouldn't let that happen. Even if John was not yet eleven and adults never listened to children.
John kneeled in front of him and took a hold of his shoulders, staring right at him.
He shook his head and smiled. "You really cry for the weirdest thing," he said, and Sherlock frowned and wanted to snap at him, because it wasn't weird to cry when adults were threatening to take his John away from him.
He felt John's hands on his face, wiping the traces of tears and he looked up to see the other boy smiling at him.
"I won't go anywhere without you Sherlock, I promised, remember?"
Sherlock nodded and shrugged at the same time. He knew that promises didn't mean a lot. Mycroft had promised to him that he would always have time for Sherlock, no matter what, and look where he was now.
Mycroft was certainly enjoying his Sherlock-free life now.
" – Sherlock!"
Sherlock frowned and looked back up at John's face. "What?"
"It's like the fifth times I've called your name. Come back to me and listen," he said, his hands still on Sherlock's face.
Sherlock squinted and stared at him.
"Yes," he said, pouting. John smiled and kissed his forehead.
"You told me once that you were very very rich, is that right?"
Sherlock raised an eyebrow and nodded.
Yes, he was. Very much so. He tried to understand where John was going but the fear and panic he was still feeling were clouding his mind.
"Is there an empty house that we could occupy without being caught?" John asked and Sherlock's eyes widened because oh, how smart John was.
He smiled widely and squeaked excitedly.
"Yes, yes, of course! And we could go back to London and that would be awesome. I know the perfect place. Father had his laboratory there. Mother closed the house when he died because of the souvenirs," he explained, eagerly.
John smiled happily, watching the delight and relief in Sherlock's eyes and nodded.
"We'll go tonight then. We'll use one of your maps."
Sherlock had drawn several maps of the building and the area surrounding it, coming up with different escape routes.
"We also need a way to go to London. It's going to be hard on the train."
Sherlock shook his head. "Easy. We need to embark with a family, following them closely. Once we're on the train, we'll have to move often. The ticket inspectors will not stop us, thinking that they'll find our parents somewhere else. They'll forget about it quickly enough. With any luck, there won't even be Ticket Inspectors. There was a strike two days ago and they could still be understaffed.
John was watching him with a soft smile and wide eyes. Sherlock blushed and twisted his little fingers, suddenly shy.
"You're brilliant," John whispered, awed and he hugged Sherlock again.
Sherlock shrugged but a proud little smile was making its way on his lips.
John laughed.
The plan had been simple enough. Wait for the lady to be asleep, take a chair to the bathroom, open the high window beside the sinks and risk your life in trying to reach the metallic ladder that was used by the old gardener to go up to the roof to sweep the chimney.
John was terrified that Sherlock would fall. He was on the ladder, his heart in his throat and his eyes fixed on Sherlock as the little boy sat on the edge of the window. They were three floors up and if Sherlock fell now, he would die.
They couldn't go back though. They had to succeed.
'Right, Loki. Give me your hand. I will take your hand and you will let yourself fall. I will not let you fall okay? I promise. I will hold on to you and in less than a second you'll be with me on the ladder."
Sherlock was watching him seriously, his hands white on the edge. He nodded. "Of course John," he whispered, and he offered John a reassuring little smile.
John went to the edge of the ladder. He had one arm around one of the rung and the other went out toward Sherlock. Sherlock stuck himself against the side of the window, his right hand finding a strong grip and he held his left arm toward John.
John took hold of his wrist. "Hold my wrist as well. Keep your eyes fixed on me. It's going to go very fast. I won't let go." John muttered forcefully.
Sherlock stared at him and nodded. "Okay. I am ready," he said, his hand squeezing John's wrist.
His head against the wall and his eyes fixed on John, Sherlock smiled one last time and let go.
"I am very sorry Sir, we don't have any kids by that name," the young woman on the phone said to Gregory. He sighed and closed his eyes. "Thank you Madam, have a good day."
He hung up and turned toward Mycroft who was also on the phone. He didn't seem to have any good news either. Greg watched him lay his phone on the table and take his head in his hands.
"No luck?" Lestrade asked, standing up and joining Mycroft on the sofa. He let his head rest on the soft cushion and laid his hand on Mycroft's back. "It's okay, there is still ten places left."
"They won't be there," Mycroft said, his voice tight. "They won't – they are nowhere. We won't ever find them." Lestrade sat upright and leaned toward Mycroft until his face rested on the young man's shoulder. His hand kept stroking his back.
"Stop it Mycroft. We will not stop searching until we find them, okay?"
Mycroft breathed deeply and sat up, Lestrade leaning away to let him. The man's blue eyes found his and Gregory couldn't help but raise his hand to his face and caress his smooth jaw.
"We will find them," he said again, his face now inches away from Mycroft's.
He was so focused on Mycroft's amazing eyes that he didn't see him raise his hands until they were on his face. They both closed the space between them and kissed.
The train ride had honestly been the most fun they had had since – the accident. Sherlock had been so very clever all along, knowing when the inspector would come and where they had to hide and how not to look suspicious.
Now in London, they however were exhausted. For seven hours they had had to run around and keep checking everything out of fear of being discovered. Sherlock's brilliant mind had been working at full speed all the time and he was barely able to remain on his feet.
John looked at him, slumped on the bench, almost asleep and sighed. He knew where the house was. They had carefully studied the fastest way to go there once they arrived in London so he could do it without Sherlock.
He was not sure people wouldn't stop them in the street if they saw an eleven years old carrying a little boy around though.
He apparently wouldn't have a choice, John realized, as Sherlock slipped, his head rolling down and he surged forward to catch him.
Sherlock whined and John shook him gently.
"Sherlock, wake up. Loki, come on, just get on my back." Sherlock opened his grey-blue eyes and stared at him tiredly, obviously ready to pout. And John was certain that Sherlock would have been totally okay to just sleep there for the night.
Groaning, the little boy stood up on the bench and waited for John to turn around.
Once John's back was to him, he encircled the older boy's neck with his thin arms and jumped, his legs going around John's waist.
Sherlock hid his head in John's right shoulder while the latter took hold of his legs and adjusted his tiny package on his back.
"How can you be that little and so heavy at the same time?" John asked, breathing heavily as he began walking. He felt Sherlock shrugged, barely awake.
"It's because I am a genius. My brain is heavy."
John let out a light laugh.
There were only five orphanages left.
Mycroft couldn't hope anymore.
He had stopped to do so a while back already, maybe at the hospital in Iceland, maybe even before, when he had realized that the government did not know where Sherlock and John were – Maybe he never really had had any hope.
Sherlock had been gone for sixteen months and learning that he was alive and well had been one thing but – Why hadn't he called? Why had he lied about his name? What had Mycroft done to deserve that?
He had taken care of his little brother for so long - Loved him, so very much.
He remembered the first time their mother had decided to leave them on their own. Sherlock had only been one and Mycroft had celebrated his tenth birthday a week prior to their Mother's departure.
Of course she had not let them entirely alone. The house had plenty of domestics. Mother had also spent a long time finding the right 'nanny' for both of them. Mrs Hudson had been a great choice. Not because she was great with kids, but because she understood why Mycroft refused to let her take care of Sherlock.
Sherlock was a difficult baby. He fussed and cried and often grew frustrated with the littlest things. Mother didn't understand him – never had.
Until Mycroft understood what was going on – until he understood that a baby was not only a needy thing but a future intelligence already growing – she would live him crying in his room for hours, telling the helps and Father that kids often cried for nothing and that he would stop eventually.
Mycroft made him stop crying. He took him out of his crib, dried his red little cheeks, held him against him and breathed deeply. Sherlock kept crying and crying and Mycroft just kept breathing. After what felt like hours but had only really been minutes, Sherlock had stopped, leaned back and stared at his big brother.
His chubby little hands had grabbed Mycroft's neck long red hair and pulled, as if to say – "how dare you live me alone for so long where were you why didn't you come before don't let her take me away and let just throw this prison away"
That same day, a new crib – bought secretly by Mrs Hudson and the gardener – was put in Mycroft's personal library adjoined to his room. It quickly became Sherlock's room and they would spent hours in the room, Mycroft reading, playing, teaching everything he knew and was still learning, to his little brother.
He became the one person Sherlock could stand having at his side when his brain would fill itself with too much information that the little boy couldn't handle. He became Sherlock's mother, Sherlock's father, Sherlock's brother, best friend and help.
And Mycroft knew it was his fault if Sherlock had wanted to go to Iceland, because he had had so many things to do and so little time for Sherlock the last few months before his disappearance.
It was his fault. And of course he had always known it and it would only be fair that he would never found his – his son.
He couldn't hope.
" –Mycroft!" He felt himself come back to the present and fell into Lestrade's worried eyes. Gregory's hands came up to his face and he let him wipe the tears away. He winced.
"I am sorry – I –" He swallowed and straightened himself, shaking his head.
"It's okay, Mycroft – just – you were breathing wrong and I was afraid you were having some kind of panic attack," Gregory said, his hands now squeezing Mycroft's gently.
Mycroft stayed silent for a while.
"There are five orphanages left," he said eventually and took the phone with one hand, the other still firmly in Lestrade's.
He dialed, listened to the tone and breathed, again.
No hope .
"Montrose House for Children, Becca Limpton speaking."
Mycroft raised his eyes on Lestrade and held his gaze, taking as much comfort and courage as he could.
"Mrs Limpton, good afternoon. My name is Mycroft Holmes and I am searching for my little brother. His name is Sherlock Holmes and I was led to believe he could have been placed into your care. It would have been sixteen months ago. I was informed that he did not give his real name but an alias in order to pose as his friend's brother," he interrupted himself and Lestrade squeezed his hand again. "Eiden and John Watson, do you maybe have them wi –" A sharp intake of breath on the other side of the phone stopped him and his eyes met Gregory's, alarmed.
"Madam, please, do you know these boys?" He asked, and his voice held no traces of his legendary control anymore. He was ready to beg this woman for his brother if he had to.
"Oh my god, poor things. I knew they weren't brother," the woman seemed to say to herself and Mycroft wanted to – choke her – so she would answer him. He shook so badly that the hand gripping his phone was white.
"Madam, please", he asked again, gritting his teeth.
"I – Oh I should tell the director, could you – " Mycroft's eyes went wide and he again felt the helplessness run through his body as a nervous whine came out of his mouth. Lestrade leaned down abruptly and took the phone from Mycroft.
"Mrs Limpton, this is officer Gregory Lestrade from New Scotland Yard, I need you to tell me right now if you know the children whose names Mister Holmes gave you. We have no time to wait for your director," he ordered the woman on the line.
He could hear her stop walking.
"Yes, Yes. Eiden and John were there, they – Oh my god, I am sorry," she whimpered, obviously shaken, and Lestrade felt himself pale. Looking up at Mycroft, he feared that the young man was going into shock. He laid a hand on the side of his face and stroked his cheek softly.
"They ran away," she finally revealed.
Oh god. Running away was not being dead – Running away was good, even if they were again somewherenot with them. He squeezed Mycroft's neck.
"Mrs Limpton, I will need everything you can tell me about their escape."
They would find them.
Sherlock was sound asleep. John wasn't even sure he had ever seen Sherlock sleep that soundly in the last year and a half he had spent as his roommate.
Apparently, his back was a better bed than the one at Montrose Home.
"We're here," Sherlock said suddenly in his ear and John was by now so accustomed to the silence that he started violently, almost sending Sherlock off of his back.
"Darn Sherlock, are you serious right now? Were you even asleep all this time?" He said, tiredness and stress getting his temper up. Sherlock squeezed his legs around his waist before letting go and John helped him down on the floor.
Kneeling and breathing deeply, his back stiff and painful, he looked up to see Sherlock looking around.
"I recognized the sound and smell of the area. The twenty-four seven shop's bell and the smell of that particular Chinese restaurant and the buzz of the light above the launderette," he shrugged. "I recorded it when I was bored."
John stared at him, gobsmacked. "That's amazing, Loki," he said, almost envious. Sherlock looked at him with a shy smile – as always – and pouted. "It's not hard. I was just bored. You could do it as well if you took the time. Blind people do it easily," he explained.
John shook his head but said nothing. He finally looked at the house they had stopped in front of and his mouth went open in shock. "Is the whole house yours?"
Sherlock smiled and nodded. "Of course," he answered.
"Of course," John repeated, shaking his head. "I don't even know you, do I? For all I know, you could actually be from the royal family?" He looked down at Sherlock and paled. "You are not, right?" He asked worryingly.
Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes. "No John, I am not, but the MI6 and the CIA occasionally worked for my father."
John let out a terrified laugh and took Sherlock's hand. "My god, who are you people?" He said lightly taking a step toward the stairs.
Sherlock stopped him.
"Do you think we can just come in? I don't have the keys, John," he said, and John translated that by –are you numb what are you doing why do I even – seriously you poor human.
John sighed and followed Sherlock around the building. "We have to climb to the roof. There is a window by which we can enter. I hid a tool to open it so I could come here at any time when I was four."
John laughed. "When you were four? What were you thinking hiding anything outside a roof window when you were four?"
Sherlock blushed and crossed his arms. "Mycroft and I were reading Peter Pan and I thought that if he ever came to play with me, I should be ready to come back home at dawn."
He looked at John defiantly, waiting for him to laugh but John smiled sadly and ruffled his hair. "It was a great idea. Always be prepared, you never know what may happen. And look, here we are and the only reason we'll be able to enter this place is because of your cleverness."
He smiled softly and took a step toward the fire escape of the neighboring building. Before he could comment on the – again -danger of it, tiny arms went around his chest and he felt Sherlock face against his back.
"You are the best Peter Pan ever," the boy muttered, his voice muffled by John's jacket.
John squeezed Sherlock's arms before turning around in his embrace and hugging Sherlock tightly, his face in his dark locks. "And you are the best boy I could ever have wished to find," he said.
"Okay, they ran away because they didn't want to be separated. They ran away last night, taking all their belongings with them which are a little bag and some old clothes."
"They were seen at Montrose's train station and taking the London train this morning."
"Which means, either they went all the way to London, or they stopped at one place, but where?" Lestrade said, waving his hands nervously.
Mycroft watched Gregory paced back and forth in the dining room and all he could feel was exhaustion.
"-Mycroft! What place? Think! John wouldn't have taken Sherlock away if he wasn't sure they would have somewhere to go. Aside from John's old house, the Watson had nothing, and John's Mother sold the house to pay up the mortgage. But you – you must have homes right? Do you think Sherlock could have thought of a place they could hide away safely?"
Mycroft raised tired blue eyes on Gregory before closing them. He wasn't sure he could keep doing that –hoping.
He was – he wasn't sure he wanted to be an adult anymore about that. For all he knew, Sherlock could be laying in a pool of his own blood somewhere, or have been taken by anyone – they could be lost somewhere, in the night, freezing to death on the street and no one would know.
He felt hands on his face and opened his eyes. Gregory was frowning, clearly angry, and Mycroft swallowed down a wave of shame.
"You are not giving up now, you hear me Mycroft Holmes! You – are – not – giving up!" He snapped, his hands gripping Mycroft's arms painfully. "Look at me," Mycroft looked him in the eyes. "Repeat after me, we are going to find them."
Mycroft remained silent and dropped his gaze. Lestrade shook him again and a hand held his head back up. "We are going to find them, say it!"
No hope.
"SAY IT!"
The phone rang.
Oh boy, nothing's really working, is it...Are they even going to find them? ...With only one chapter left, I don't know...:) Hope you liked this new chapter.
See your very soon for the next one!
And thank you all for your nice comments and kudos.
Blibl'