The computer only rang once before Nero picked up on the other side. "I thought you'd forgotten!"

A little stab went through Sherlock's heart.

"Of course not, Nero. I was talking to John. I- "

"Doctor Watson is there? Really?" Sherlock heard the clear eagerness in his voice. He had to admit there was the very slightest hint of jealousy that Nero would want to talk to John, but on the other hand he was glad Nero was excited about meeting him. He was proud that his son and his best friend were most likely going to end up being good pals.

"Yes. One moment, I'll get him." Sherlock waved in a 'come here' motion to John, who was standing off to the side. He got up and offered John his seat silently. He could tell John wanted to say something, but he cut it off with a shake of his head, and a jerk to the side towards the computer.

John sat down, smiling at the boy on the other side of the screen. "It's nice to meet you, Nero. You look like what I'd guess Sherlock did as a child."

Nero giggled. "That's what Daddy told me, too. Maybe I can see some pictures of him when I come to live there!"

John was lucky he hadn't been drinking anything, or he would have done a spit take. He looked over to Sherlock, who was busy distracting himself, making a cup of tea in the kitchen. The detective looked suspiciously like he was trying to ignore John's scrutenizing gaze about not telling him about this beforehand.

John turned back to the computer, and Nero. "You're coming to live here? This is the first I've heard about that." The comment was directed back at Sherlock, who was now studying the inside of the sugar container quite fastidiously. No answer came from his direction.

"Yeah. I have to wait to heal, but Daddy said he's gonna get Uncle Mycroft to let mummy back into the country so we can stay there forever!"

"Ah well, it'll be good to see you in person. But until then, I heard you read all my blogs, hmm?"

"Yeah! I liked the one with the aluminium crutch.. Oh yeah, and the one with the dog too! That sounds like it was pretty scary."

"A bit, perhaps. It wasn't exactly a happy ending, but things worked out. I heard Henry's doing a lot better. He emails me once in awhile. I admit though, I have no desire to go back to Dartmoor myself."

A voice from off camera interrupted their conversation."Nero, dear. Shouldn't you talk to your father a bit? You can speak with John about the cases another time."

John smiled and nodded. "It was very nice to meet you, Nero. Heal up, and you'll be here sooner than you think." He turned around, expecting that Sherlock would still be in the kitchen, so he jumped a bit when he saw the man standing beside him, steaming cup of tea in hand, waiting to sit back down.

"Jesus, Sherlock. You trying to give me a heart attack? I have a sneaking suspicion you're part cat." He got up and Sherlock quickly took his seat. John went into the kitchen to see about a cuppa for himself.

The slight annoyance that Sherlock had at John winning his son's attention dissipated when Nero's face brightened as he sat back down and heard "Daddy!" Sherlock smiled warmly at his son.

"You haven't been driving your mother crazy, have you?"

"No."

"Well you should." Sherlock winked. The voice from off screen was louder this time. "Sherlock, don't you dare give him any ideas."

They both laughed.

Xxxxxx

Irene let them talk a bit past his normal bedtime. Even though he was in the hospital, she still kept him to his normal sleep schedule. When it was time to go, Nero fussed and kept asking questions, trying to prolong the inevitable. Finally, she'd had enough.

"Say goodnight, Nero. I'm turning the computer off in twenty seconds."

Nero sighed. "Goodnight Daddy." There was the slightest bit of hesitation at the end of the sentence, like he wanted to say more.

Three little words had been left unsaid since they met. Sherlock had not been able to say them before he left the hospital, and the detective wondered if that was what Nero had tried to say just now, before something stopped him.

Sherlock thought about it for a moment. He willed those words to come out of his mouth, but he couldn't form the phrase on his tongue, his throat closed up. He let out a little breath of frustration and shook his head. "Goodnight, Nero. I'll talk with you again tomorrow night." The connection died on the other side, and Sherlock slumped back in his seat with a sigh.

"Sherlock, I'm sorry about monopolizing your time with Nero. It wasn't what I'd intended." John had a guilty look on his face. Sherlock guessed he must have thought that was why he was upset. It wasn't the case, but Sherlock didn't bother to correct him.

"It's fine, John. Really." Sherlock said a bit brusquely. He got up and headed back to the kitchen and took out his microscope, pushing the food over to the side as he started to look at some slides. John took it as a sign the conversation was over. The food in the kitchen was cold, the table partially taken over by whatever Sherlock had started working on. John grabbed a plate, microwaved it, and took it to the living room with a beer, plopping down in his usual chair.

The evening went quietly. The baby monitor was thankfully silent all evening. After having his dinner, putting the uneaten portion from the table in the fridge (as usual Sherlock didn't touch his food) , and watching some crap telly for a few hours, John retired upstairs.

"Goodnight, Sherlock." There was a slight nod of the head as a response, but no words.

Life at 221B Baker Street was back to normal.

Xxxxxx

Time marched on. As soon as Lestrade found out Sherlock was available again, he was running around London, working on cases. On the weekends, he and John attempted to make the flat at least partially livable for three people. There was over a decade of his life to go through, it was a project that couldn't be done in a couple of weekends.

One morning not long after he got back, Sherlock knocked on Mrs. Hudson's door. Her face lit up as always when he came to talk to her. "Sherlock, dear, come in. I'll put the kettle on." He walked in and immediately went to her fridge, pulling out a blueberry scone and nibbling on it as he sat at her kitchen table.

When she was done with the kettle she sat across from him and put her hand on top of his on the table. "So, what can I do for you dearie?"

"I want to add the basement flat, 221C, to my rent. I have the intention of remodeling it enough to make it livable." Sherlock took another bite of the scone, tensing slightly, knowing where the questioning was going to go.

"That's fine. I could never rent it out anyways. But why do you need another room?" She gasped. "Is John coming back to live here? Oh, I'd love to see little Rosie more! She's getting so big! I-"

Sherlock interrupted her, lest she ramble on all day.

"No, I think John and Rosie are quite comfortable where they are. I'll have... someone else living here. We'll need two rooms."

"Someone else? Who? Is it someone I've met?" She looked like was going to say more when the kettle started to whistle. She got up and made two cups of teas, his with light milk and three sugars. She knew exactly how he took it, even with her insistence that she wasn't his housekeeper. She came back, handed him his tea, and sat down. "So, who is it? It better not be one of your homeless friends. I don't want any bad influences on Rosie when she visits."

Sherlock took a deep breath. He was tired of beating around the bush, so he came right out with it. "My son, and his mother."

Mrs. Hudson nearly choked on her tea. Sherlock had anticipated such a reaction. As soon as he finished speaking, he stood up and leaned across the table, gently patting her back. Her face was red, and she coughed a few times, then put her cup down with a shaky hand. "Your... son?" She was finally able to ask, her voice slightly raspy from the coughing fit.

"Yes. I've only known of Nero for about three weeks now. He and his mother are in Rome at the moment. It'll be at least two months before they can move, so I'd like to get started on the renovations as soon as possible."

Mrs. Hudson moved to open her mouth, then closed it again, truly flabbergasted. After a moment to gather herself, she got up and gave Sherlock a tight hug, tears coming to her eyes. "Who ever would've thought. My Sherlock's a father. Do you have a picture of him? What's he like? How old is he? Is he-"

Once again he interrupted her.

"I didn't take a picture of him while I was in Rome. I talk to him via the computer every night. If you'd like, I can introduce you to him." Sherlock smiled softly, as he often did when he talked about Nero. "He's a brilliant boy, and no, I'm not biased. He's actually extremely intelligent. He'll be six in two months."

Mrs. Hudson grabbed a tissue and dabbed her eyes. "Both my boys are parents now. I never would have guessed in a million years." Sherlock rolled his eyes.

Yes, because you were convinced that John and I were sleeping together.

But he held his tongue, and steered her back to the topic at large.

"So I can expect the flat to be added to next month's bill?"

"Yes, I'll change the amount drafted on Monday. Oh, Sherlock, I'm so happy for you., It's about time you settled down and started a family." She squeezed his hand again. Sherlock didn't really want to argue the point that he and Irene were not married, and he didn't intend to change that, so he just smiled and nodded.

After a few moments of silence, Sherlock stood up, finishing the last of the scone, and brushing the crumbs off onto the floor. "I look forward to the challenge of getting 221C into shape." He turned towards the door, but looked back at her. "Thank you, Mrs. Hudson." Without another word, he was out the door and up the stairs, two at a time to his flat.

Immediately, he picked up his phone and dialed his brother.

"Good morning, Brother mine. Who do you know that can renovate a flat?"