Sherlock checked the clock on his phone. It was past midnight when the British Airways 747 taxied to a halt at the gate. He'd never been a stickler for sleep, but his own bed was sounding quite appealing right now. He'd made sure to choose a piece of luggage that would fit in the overhead compartment, so he didn't have to bother waiting for the always painfully slow baggage carousels.
As he waited to exit the plane, he switched his phone off of airport mode and was surprised to hear a text tone.
Welcome back to London, brother mine. I hope Rome was sufficiently entertaining.
He groaned, running his hand over his face. So Mycroft knew. But how much information had he gleaned?
Sherlock didn't bother answering, but the question of 'what does he know' burned in the pit of his stomach. Mycroft made no further attempts to contact him until Sherlock was through customs and walking through a fairly empty part of the airport, towards the bank of taxis. Then his phone rang.
It was Mycroft. Of course it was. Sherlock sighed, his whole body stiffened. He thought about not answering it, but he knew that would only lead to more trouble down the line. Still, he waited almost until it went to voicemail before clicking the button to connect.
"What is it, Mycroft? I'm tired. I want to get home and rest."
"Yes, you've had a pretty eventful two weeks, haven't you, brother?"
Sherlock's heart sank.
Damnit, he knows...
"I was in Rome, on a case."
"A case, was it?"
"Yes." Sherlock snapped.
"It must have been a case at..." There was a moment's pause while papers shuffled on the other side of the line. "...Bambino Gesu Hospital."
"I was investigating-"
Mycroft cut him off. "Let me guess. Someone lost a kidney, and you had to find it for them?"
Silence.
"You were admitted twelve days ago, and underwent am operation for a kidney donation. And on that same day, a child named..." another shuffle of papers... "...Nero William Adler received a donated kidney."
"Mycroft, I-"
Once again, he was interrupted. "So, Sherlock, when am I going to meet my nephew?"
Damn Mycroft and his spying eyes and his powers of deduction.
"I didn't know until two weeks ago. The Woman, she came to see me. She told me her son was dying and I could save him. I deduced why, but it was still a shock." He paused for a moment and licked his dry lips. His voice went low. "Mycroft... he looks so much like me. He's... a genius for his age. He deduced who I was without my telling him."
There was a sigh on the other side of the line. "We were supposed to be the last. Mummy and Daddy assumed the Holmes line would die with us. Now you have a son, an heir by blood, if not by name."
Sherlock knew what his words said and didn't say.
He's a Holmes. He must be nurtured and protected. He's one of us.
"I can't just bring them back into England. Irene is a wanted woman. Of course, since you ARE the British Government, you could just make that go away." It was as much a statement as a challenge.
"I could, but that will take some time, and I daresay you called in your last favor quite a while ago."
"This isn't a favor, Mycroft. This is family." He stressed the last words, drawing it out, reminding his brother of what he had said (or not said) a moment before about the family line.
Another sigh. "Go home, Sherlock. I'll be in touch soon." The line went dead before Sherlock could retort. He let out a deep breath and headed to the taxi stand, aching for home even more.
Xxxxxx
The next afternoon, Sherlock wandered around the quiet, empty flat. It had been a habit since after the Sherrinford incident for John and Rosie to visit on Saturday and sometimes Sunday as well. The detective found that in the short time he'd been in Rome, he missed their visits. He picked up his phone and texted John.
Planning to visit this weekend? SH
Are you back home? JW
Got in late last night. It was a rather interesting case. SW
Oh? I've got nothing interesting going on tonight. I could come over and you can tell me about it. I'll have to find a sitter for Rosie. JW
Bring her. The cot is still set up in your old room. I'll order Thai. SH
Ok. What time? JW
6:00 SH
I have work and I'll have to get Rosie ready. It may be closer to 6:30 JW
See you then. SH
Sherlock tossed his phone onto his chair and started to pick up the flat a bit.
Xxxxxx
Evening fell. Sherlock put on water for tea and paced around the flat, surprisingly nervous. He was anxious to talk to Nero, even though he'd seen him less than 24 hours before. But there was also the lingering question of how John was going to take the news that he has a son with The Woman.
Sherlock checked his computer for the tenth time and looked in on the kettle again. The Thai takeout was on the table, two places and a high chair already set. He glanced out the window at the traffic on Baker Street. His beloved town was waking up for the evening, day was fading into night. Lights twinkled to life. And still he paced.
Heavy footsteps clomping up the stairs broke him out of his thoughts. A small smile crossed his face. He really had missed seeing Watson and Watson Junior.
"Evening Sherlock. Hope I'm not too late." John smiled, shifting Rosie from one arm to the other and putting their travel and nappy bags down.
"Lalalala!" Rosie babbled, reaching her arms out to Sherlock. His whole face warmed and he walked over quickly, settling her in his arms like a pro.
"And hello to you too, littler Watson." He beamed at her. "I'm going to get you to say 'Sherlock' one of these days."
Rosie responded by yelling "Lalalala!" even louder and grabbing a handful of his curly hair.
"Rosie!" John couldn't help but laugh as he came over and tried to get his daughter to turn loose, which just tightened her grip more and cause her to tug, making Sherlock grimace. Finally, Sherlock grabbed a toy she had left last time and shook it in front of her. It did the trick, she let go of his hair and grabbed at it with both hands, immediately putting it in her mouth and chewing contentedly.
While she was distracted, John took her back. "I'll go put her down upstairs and you can tell me about this case in Rome." Without another word, the two Watsons ascended the stairs.
It took a while for John to put Rosie down and get her to stop crying. In the meantime, Sherlock started his pacing again. How was he going to tell John? This isn't a subject that you just bring up out of the blue. 'Oh, by the way, I have a kid. Surprise!'
Sherlock's stomach knotted tighter and tighter the longer John took. When the crying finally stopped, and he heard the loud thunk of shoes down the stairs, his whole body tensed. This was it. He went into the kitchen, grabbed a couple of glasses, and poured each of them a few fingers of a nice old Scotch Mycroft had given him years ago. He hardly drank, so it was still nearly full. This was as good an excuse as any to break it open again.
As John came down the stairs, Sherlock handed him a glass and waved his now free hand towards his chair."Have a seat, please."
John's face scrunched up a bit. "Sherlock, is this bad news?" He turned on the baby monitor next to his chair, then fell into his seat and took a long swig of the Scotch, wincing a bit.
Sherlock smiled softly."No, not in the least. It's good, though it's not very easy to talk about." He sat on the edge of his chair, barely using it at all. His foot tapped impatiently on the floor while he tried to figure out the best way to start. John, for his part, waited patiently.
Finally, Sherlock took a deep breath, downed the entirety of the glass, and put it to the side. "As you know, Irene Adler is not dead." As he spoke, a large smile filled John's face.
"Oh, I see where this is going. Spending some evenings in High Wycombe, are we?" John smirked and gave a little wink.
Sherlock sighed. "If you want me to explain, please stay quiet and let me do so" he snapped. John nodded, silently sipping his drink.
"Through the years, we only communicated through the occasional text, so I was quite surprised when she appeared at my flat about two weeks ago. She explained that she was living in Rome now, and she needed my help. Of course, I was quite skeptical as to why she would require my assistance. She told me her son had been in a car crash and she needed to find a match for a kidney transplant.."
"Her... son?" John started, but Sherlock silenced him with a look.
"At first, I admit I was confused as to why she would risk her safety to come to London when there's a transplant list the child would most certainly be on. But then it dawned on me..." Sherlock's voice trailed off.
After a moment to make sure it was OK for him to speak, John responded. "What dawned on you, Sherlock?"
"Think about it, John. Why would she come to me specifically?" Sherlock enjoyed giving John puzzles and watching him go from deep in thought to the moment of realization. John pondered it for a few moments, and Sherlock assisted him. "Why would she ask me to help her son with an organ transplant?"
Finally, the detective could see the awareness blooming on John's face. Sherlock watched with nervous anticipation as he put the pieces together. For a moment, the doctor was silent. He downed the rest of his Scotch and put the glass down with a slightly shaky hand.
"Christ, Sherlock. He's your son too, isn't he?" John ran a hand through his grey tinged hair. Sherlock closed his eyes and nodded softly, bracing for the next response. When none came, he opened his eyes just in time to see John lean in and give him a short, awkward hug. "Congratulations, I suppose."
Sherlock's body untensed, and he finally sank back into his chair while John sat back down. "Thanks." he murmured.
"I assume this was sometime around the last time Miss Adler disappeared, so that would make the child about.. five or so?"
"He'll be six next month. Sadly, I'll miss that as well." He sighed. I've missed so much already." Sherlock shook his head. He wasn't going to get maudlin. "I asked you here because I promised Nero I'd try to video conference him every night. I'd like to introduce you."
John opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. Sherlock could tell that he was trying to decide what he wanted to ask first.
"So.. your..." There was a pause before John could form the word on his tongue. "...Your son. He just had a kidney transplant."
"Yes. Do try to keep up, please."
"And I assume it all went well?"
"Yes. There were no complications." Sherlock's voice was terse and short.
John looked at his glass, it looked to Sherlock like he was willing it to be full of Scotch again after these revelations.
"You.. and the woman..." He trailed off.
"I hadn't seen her in over six years before this. There is no us."
"Oh." John ran his hand through his hair again. "And... you want to introduce me to your... son?"
"Before either of us knew his parentage, he was a fan of Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson. He's read all your blogs. When I spoke with him the first time, he was very excited and talked about how much he loved your website."
The slightest flush of red came to John's cheeks, but Sherlock stayed silent about it. "Well, of course. I'd love to talk to him. I... have to admit, I'm very curious about meeting the progeny of the great detective." John teased lightly. "And... Nero, huh? That's an interesting name. I see she kept the unusual Holmes naming convention."
Sherlock shook his head and smiled. "Nero William Adler. I had no say in his name, but I rather like it." He looked at the clock. "I'm a couple of minutes late in speaking with him. Let me make the call and I'll introduce you in a moment." He went over and dialed Nero's computer.
This was going to be interesting, he thought with a smile.
