Chapter 11
"What are you doing with my computer, Sherlock?" John inquires as he sinks into his chair.
"Looking at various educational institutions."
"Why? I thought you were going the homeschool route." John smirks and quickly wipes his smile away to look at Sherlock with a serious face; Sherlock doesn't notice.
"Neither Mrs. Hudson nor Molly will agree to babysit them, and Mycroft won't watch them, and I can't fathom why. After all, no one had died during their brief bonding period." Sherlock shrugs. "Must be his old age," He reasons and John smirks.
How is it the most brilliant man in the world could be so clueless sometimes, the doctor thinks.
"Yeah and I guess that having World War III take place in his office was just a minor…blip, huh? Nothing too drastic?"
A corner of Sherlock's lips curls upward a little. "Yes, exactly. I can see why Moriarty allowed her to escape. Can you imagine the kind of havoc my little Lila would wreak on his crisp and orderly home? It's be OCD nightmare," Sherlock chuckles. "And Moriarty is nothing if not obsessive."
"What do you think set them off?"
"Boredom, probably. At least his walls were fine." Together, they both look at the smiley face Sherlock had painted onto the wall and subsequently used as target practice when he had been swallowed mercilessly by boredom. "Which reminds me: Mycroft has requested that we all go back tomorrow and clean up his workspace."
"Dear, God." John groans. "That can't possibly end well."
"No," Sherlock agrees. "Probably not."
"Find anything?"
"There's one not too far away." Sherlock yawns. "We can try them there, I suppose."
"Hopefully it ends better than your last brilliant plan." John shakes his head. "'Come on, John. It'll be fun, John. They'll love it; what can possibly go wrong?'" John sighs. "That poor, poor man."
"He's still alive isn't he?" Sherlock growls in irritation. "We'll just have to take them with us to cases until we can figure something out, then."
"'We'? I think you mean you, Sherlock."
"Whatever." Sherlock rolls his eyes and Lila walks in. "Breakfast?" Sherlock asks, pushing a plate of eggs towards her.
"Acke's sick—he has a fever." She announces and John hops to his feet to go check on the lad.
"Yep," He agrees. "Definitely has a temperature. Sherlock, come in here place. We need to get him into some cold water."
"That bad?" Sherlock frowns.
"Sherlock! Get in here!"
…
Try as they might, the fever won't go down and now he's vomiting like crazy with sharp abdominal pain. Eventually, Sherlock winds up wrapping the boy in a light blanket and holding him close while John runs to hail down a cab. Lila says nothing and, by now, Sherlock is positive that Acke isn't sick.
…
"Holmes family?" The nurse calls. "The doctor will see you now."
"Is he alright?" John asks. "Will he be alight?"
"Right this way please," The nurse says, ignoring Watson's questions.
…
"I'm Doctor Smith; I'm here to talk to you about your son."
"Tell us something we don't know," Lila complains. "That's why we're here in the first place! Just tell us what's up!" She snaps and Sherlock smiles.
"Right…" He clears his throat. "It seems to be food poisoning but nothing too serious. We'll give him so fluids via IV and antibiotics and you should be able to take him home in a day or two."
"But he is fine?" John questions the Dr. Smith nods.
"Yes. He is no immediate danger. The worst thing you'd have to watch for is dehydration, hence, the IV." He smiles to reassure them all.
They aren't reassured.
…
"We can't all sleep at the hospital." John says as he pulls a groggy Lila into his arms. "Come on, we'll visit again tomorrow." John grunts and he looks at Sherlock. "You sure you're okay here with him? We can still switch if you want."
"I'm fine, John. Really."
John nods, unconvinced and feels a sharp pang of sympathy for any unsuspecting nurse who comes in to check on Acke during the night. Sherlock on his own was difficult enough not to punch in the face but a stressed Sherlock?
Those poor, poor unsuspecting fools.
…
Sherlock paces the room as he thinks while Acke sleeps. The small boy's tiny chest rises and falls with each breath. Sherlock groans inwardly. Why had he decided to stay here? It was so boring! Maybe, if he got ahold of some newspaper, he could light a small fire and…
No, Acke would never disentangle himself from those monitors to get out the window before the doctors came running to see what the problem was. Sherlock groans. Next time, he vows, John is staying instead. After all, he is a doctor, so it's more his area than Sherlock's.
"Trying day, was it?" Mycroft walks in and Sherlock reconsiders the small fire option.
"It would appear so," Sherlock says with a yawn. "What brings you here, brother mine?"
"Your little beasts were tearing my office apart yesterday and now one has been hospitalized, although, I can't say I'm particularly upset."
"And you are here why?"
"To check in. It's what…a 'normal' uncle would do, yes?"
"Since when have you wanted to be normal? Since when have either of us been normal?"
"Like it or not, Sherlock, we are their family now. I assumed that I should try to at least look like I was putting in an effort to be…uncle-like."
"So, you'll homeschool them, then?"
"Not on your life."
"I like them better this way," Sherlock says softly. "When they're sleeping, they are a lot quieter than when they are awake."
"And calmer, too," Mycroft remarks. "This one I wouldn't mind keeping an eye on…the other one though…" He trails off and frowns. "But I suppose it wasn't entirely her fault. They were homeless for a while and there are clear signs of child abuse and trauma. Perhaps, it is just one of those 'phases' children go through."
"Or it's an American thing." Sherlock shrugs.
"So, how are you doing on their case—with locating their mother?"
"I'm getting there and this is, of course, assuming that there is anything left to find."
"Moriarty and his games," Mycroft nods. "Well, Sherlock, I'll leave you to it. Tell him I stopped by, will you?"
"Oh, why not?" Sherlock collapses on the small couch and closes his eyes. He just might be able to escape the cruel, icy grip of boredom if he can fall asleep.