Dont kill meeeeeee! I'm a h/c freak so when CrimsonKitsune333 suggested it to me I couldn't resist

John and Lestrade made their way down the fire escape, a now very unconscious and beaten gunman in tow. Lestrade quickly handed off the heavy man to his men who were arriving, Anderson looked confused when he saw how badly beaten he was.

"Geez did he attack you or something?" Anderson asked, examining the bruises, John shook his head and went around to the other side of the building where Sam had been thrown. Lestrade and Anderson followed his eye line to where they could see Sherlock hunched on the ground.

"Don't you dare make any sort of comment" Lestrade threatened as he got up to follow John. As they approached Sherlock stood and turned toward them however his eyes were on the small figure he'd gathered up in his arms. Sam.

"I'm sorry Sherlock" Lestrade said finally, he knew the detective wouldn't want pity but he couldn't help but feel enormous amount of sympathy for the grieving father.

Sherlock walked right past him; by now the rest of the police team had seen what had happened, those who did quickly filled those who didn't know in on who the little boy was. John shot Lestrade a look before walking out of the crime scene with the detective, the inspector didn't know where they were going but he sure as hell wasn't going to stop them.

Mycroft paid and organised a funeral for Sam, Sherlock had practically begged him to, that in itself showed them the state of the detectives nerves. Mycroft complied, the funeral party was small, Mira, Sherlock, John, Lestrade and of course the other thirteen Irregulars. The kids all clung to one another in one way or another; they all seemed to combine together into one huge being. They clung to their 'parents' as well. Grabbing their coats or arms. John and Lestrade were the only ones who weren't part of the huge huddle. The tombstone was simple, no dates or message just a name.

Sam Holmes

John could almost feel the unbearable guilt radiating off the detective, he had insisted on legally changing Sam's name to Holmes. Sam had hated his parents, hence his last name, he never even told John what it was. Holmes suited him better anyway. The remaining Irregulars had crashed at Baker Street for the last few Days, Mira as well. It had been very crowded and expensive, especially when it came to food.

For some reason however, John found however much he spent on caring for Sherlock and the rest of his strange family, the exact same amount was deposited into his account a few minutes later by an unknown supplier. It had Mycroft written all over it, almost literally.

The kids healed within the next few weeks and returned to normal. They were children, they always managed to adapt better to death, they didn't quite understand it. They all missed Sam terribly but they did heal. Mira took longer, however she had the support in knowing that the other thirteen Irregulars needed her and after a few months she too was back to herself. Sherlock was not. If John hadn't been at his side almost 24/7 since Sam's death he had no doubt Sherlock would have been higher than a kite in no time. He worked through cases with a fine tooth comb, getting every detail, making sure he didn't make a single mistake. When he didn't have a case he laid out on the couch and didn't move for hours on end. Just stared at the ceiling or floor with empty eyes. John was guilty to admit he even considered leaving the house for a few hours to give Sherlock to opportunity to get out his needles, just so he could escape his guilt for a while. He knew he couldn't though.

The man who had killed Sam disappeared. Again, John suspected Mycroft's influence but once again didn't care. Nobody knew where he was, all history of him was gone. It was as if he never existed. John mused about this as he laid in bed, trying to sleep but failing.

"Uncle John?"

John's eyes hot open to see Natty standing at the side of his bed, her frizzy blonde hair almost glowed in the dark.

"Natty, what are you doing here?" He asked rubbing his eyes, Natty looked confused.

"It's my turn" She shrugged, "We are all taking turns looking after Daddy"

That explained the soft voices he had been hearing lately, he assumed it was Sherlock watching tv.

"Why are you here then?" John asked again, Natty bit her lip.

"Daddy was crying" She said finally, "He never cries"

John felt his guts twist.

"I'll take care of it Natty, why don't you sleep here?" He offered getting out of bed and putting on his jumper over his pyjamas. Natty yawned and curled up under the blankets easily. It wasn't every day an Irregular got to sleep in a proper bed.

John went down stairs and knocked on Sherlock's door before entering. He was sitting on the bed with a large amount of paper work in front of him. His face was dry but his eyes were red.

"There wasn't anything you could of done you know" John said after a while, "You can't keep blaming yourself"

"Shut up John" Sherlock replied sharply as he continued to work through what appeared to be long cold cases.

"Sam didn't blame you" John tried, Sherlock bit back almost immediately

"You don't know that for sure"

"But you do, deep down"

Sherlock looked away and nodded after a few seconds, it wouldn't be much if it was anybody else but with Sherlock it was practically a break down.

The next few months passed slowly and Sherlock got better. He visited Sam once a week still but he finally stopped brooding. He started to enjoy cases again,

somewhere in the world of spirits Sam Holmes smiled.