Chapter Eleven: Cookies, Kisses, Hugs, and Plasters

The lights flickered with the threat of going out, casting shadows outside and along the walls. The boy sat quietly on his father's lap, his dark eyes trained outside. They took in the constant flicker of lights outside, like the fading and appearing light of the awful room, and each deep clap of thunder, like the rumbling voice of his father. The arms tightened around him, lifting him over to his bed and setting him down, tucking him in. His eyes shut and his mind floated, before throwing its self in the land of terror and nightmares.

Hamish had gone to cower in the corner, eyes shut tight. Trembles ran the length of his body, and his rosy cheeks were stained with tears. Mr. Moriarty had taken to punishing him when a new person came, and especially if they tried to help him, tried to comfort the small boy. His newest hurt-his owie-was still bleeding, the blood trickling down his bare chest. Tiger had made sure it hurt bad this time. Because the little girl almost got away. She was one step too close. Almost. But Tiger had found her like he found him, and hurt her. Her cries weren't quiet. No, they echoed (he'd learned the word from his Daddy), and Hamish had cried with her.

Alex didn't come much any more. He sometimes did, if only to quickly hug and kiss his hurts and put silly looking plasters on them. Plasters and kisses and hugs always made things better, he would say with a giggle.

There was a small, feeble knock on the door, and it slid open, sending light scattering through the room. Hamish shrank back, the light to much for his eyes. He whimpered as he was able to make out a shadow, and immediately expect the savage view of his captors. Instead he saw a friend, smiling and holding tightly to his bag. "Hi, Ha'ish," Alex whispered.

It was only Alex. Good, little Alex, there to make his hurts better, not bring more of them. He offered a wary smile, adjusting himself so he could sit more comfortably.

The small blond crept forwards, quietly kissing the bleeding cut and wiping his mouth free of the scarlet. For nearly five minutes, he struggled with the plaster, and Hamish whined in impatience. "My Dah's bedder," Alex said by way of apology. "Sowwy, Ha'ish. I's twying."

Hamish only rolled his eyes, sitting back and adjusted his shoulders so the cuffs weren't digging into his skin. He'd just lost the feeling in them, even though they'd been put back on nearly two hours ago. "My Daddy's good too," he answered. "But my Papa's the bestest."

Alex nodded, sniffling and swiping his hand over his running nose. "Imma gonna look for your Daddy n' Papa." Hamish sat up, shaking his head. "Nuh-uh, Lex. You're too widdle!" He moved closer, shaking his head. "And what bout your Daddies?"

The small boy was quiet for a few moments. "They not here. I'm not widdle. Not no more. I'm big. My Daddy say so. An' its just foh a widdle bit. Not long." He smiled reaching in his bag and bringing out what looked like a poorly drawn map-more than likely drawn by himself. "See? I gotta map. This is where yours Daddy and Papa are." He waved it, pointing to middle where there was a giant red dot. Or…oval, whatever it was supposed to be.

Hamish shook his head again. "No, Alex. No, no, no. You'll get in twouble!" Alex shook his head, standing and kissing Hamish's nose. "Nope. I pwomise, Ha'ish, you ah gonna go home." He hugged his friend happily, holding tightly to his map and bag. "You's not going to have no more hurts, Ha'ish. Not no more cwying too. I'mma make you happy."

The curly-topped boy watched his friend for a few moments, shaking his head, begging him not to go. But the other was determined, and stood with a proud air. "Don't worry, Ha'ish," He promised. "Peas. I'm gonna make it better. You'll sees."

The storm seemed to carry to his dreams. The boy could see the roof as the sky, the world spread bellow him. Thunder resembled sick, haunting laughter, and worried eyes fell as endless cold rain. Shouting mixed the strike of the lightning, echoed by the roll of thunder, hidden by the smokescreen of clouds. Bitter wind was terrified shivers, whistling between the two enemies, never seem to cease their endless fights. Or when it did cease and stop, it would only brew until it started once again, making those bellow miserable, or joyful for the thrill.

Alex stared at the map in his hand, frowning deeply. He looked up and around, through the rushing crowd of people, the loud honking of horns. He whimpered, and clutched his bag to his chest. He wanted his Daddy. He didn't know which way was home, or which way Hamish's Daddy and Papa were.

Maybe he was too little. Maybe he couldn't help Hamish go home and not get no more hurts. What if he made Hamish get more hurts cause he went away?

He felt hot tears splash his cheeks and he looked around again, cowering near a phone booth, lost as what to do. His widened terrified eyes missed the CCTV camera swivelling until it was resting on him, watching, and observing. More tears rolled down his cheeks, and a few people stopped to stare before continuing on their way, not bothering to help. Alex wanted to go home. He shouldn't have left, he should have stayed with his Nanny.

A woman stopped beside him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Are you lost, sweetheart?" She asked gently, rubbing his back. "Where's your Mummy and Daddy?" Alex rubbed at his running eyes and nose, shrugging. He tried to explain to her what happened, but she only stared at him in bewilderment.

The small boy glanced up as a dark car came to a rolling stop in front of him, and he rubbed at his eyes. The woman frowned, moving in front of Alex protectively. The door of the sleek vehicle swung open, and a man stepped out, leaning on his umbrella. "I'll be sure he goes to his parents," he assured. "I know them well." He bent, kneeling next to Alex, though he didn't seem to happy about the gesture. "Do you know someone named Hamish, little one? I'm his Uncle."

Alex's face lit, and he gave an excited nod, moving away from the woman, who seemed relieved and convinced. "I'mma gonna find his Daddy and Papa!" He explained, showing him his map. The older man gave a small nod, thanking the woman and helping the blond child into the vehicle. "Oh, I'm sure you were. I think they'll be a little to relieved to see you. What is your name?"

"Ahlex Mowan-Moweeartee." He answered proudly, digging through his bag and offering him a cookie, which the man refused, though seemed much happier. Of course he was. Cookies, plasters, kisses and hugs made everything better.

"My name is Mycroft Holmes, Alex. And you'll be a very helpful boy to me. Quite."

The boy woke with a small cry, and found his father sitting at the edge of his bed, watching carefully. They stared at each other for a few pregnant seconds, both processing the same thought. Slowly, the boy crawled into his father's safe, protective arms and they sat staring out the window, watching the storm rave on. Though his small heart beat with fear, he knew his father would always be there to save him. To keep him safe, to give him cookies, kisses, hugs, and plasters.

A/N: Yay! So, yes, I did bring Mycroft in. I plan on finishing it soonish. Maybe I'll drag it out for about ten-five more chapters. Sadly, I still have to kill more people. Trying to make the ending not so obvious, though I think it is. Maybe. Let me know your thoughts! Feedback would be awesome. You can comment here, or my tumblr is sherlockianh . Hope to hear from you!