A/N: Chapter XIV and still going strong! You guys are great! Potterhorse-Spirit- Sorry, I just love messing with people's emotions *laughs manically and rubs hands suspiciously* So...another chapter to keep the feels flowing.

Oh, and I give credit to BritishSweden for the idea of coloring. I'm not the only one who likes to write Sherlock as an adult and kid at the same time, guys!

John:

Sherlock was almost silent the entire time. He would only answer yes or no questions, unless Mycroft was asking him them, and if Greg or I didn't ask them first. Our conversation was then somewhat limited. Moriarty and Mycroft were actually cooperating, but since Sherlock wasn't giving us any information, we really didn't have anything more solid than their word, and that was shaky at best, unusable at worst. We needed Sherlock to talk, even if he was only 2 in his head, he really was still an adult, and he was the proof we needed to get Moriarty and Mycroft in trouble. But he wouldn't help. He just sat there, picking at his shoes. "Don't worry, he did something similar to me the second time he saw me."

Greg pulled out his gun, and I pulled out mine, since I had finally got it back. "Oh, no. You really shouldn't shoot me, Johnny-boy. Then poor Sherlock will never work with you." I turned and looked at Sherlock. He had a look of terror on his face and his blanket was drawn up to his neck. I was beginning to think that was his security blanket. "Don't shoot him. Please." His voice was so quiet. It was scared, and it sounded so fragile it seemed if I even breathed I would break it. "Yeah…yeah, okay Sherlock. But you'll have to answer some questions for me, if you want me to do something for you. That's how it's going to work around here." He hesitated then nodded. I lowered my gun, and Greg did the same. "Thank you. I was just bringing Sherlock there something to do anyway. He was yelling 'bored' earlier today at the top of his lungs, and I was hoping this would help." He pulled out some colored pencils and paper. Sherlock's face lit up and he reached out for the supplies. "Thank you." He said as he chose which color he was going to use first.

I looked disbelievingly at Sherlock, then Moriarty, who just smiled back. I sighed and said, "Okay, Sherlock, ready for the questions?"

"Yeah." He kept on scribbling.

"Right then. Do you remember anything after you were taken?"

He stopped and looked up. "Like what? What I ate? How much I slept? What I did?"

"Well, did you get hurt in any way again over the past day?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "…Yes, but he did it on accident,"

"Who, Moriarty? What did he hit you with?"

"…A dictionary." He pantomimed the size, and I paled. "Sherlock, that's a really big dictionary. That can really damage your brain! And when I say really damage, I mean that if you got hard enough with that, I wouldn't be surprised if you got killed from it! Why in the world-"

"JOHN!" I stopped and looked at Mycroft. He nodded at Sherlock. He had tears in his eyes, and looked on the verge of another breakdown. Tears started slipping down his face, and his lip quivered. He then pulled his blanket over his head and started shaking. Then he started sobbing, and soon he was ready to fall out of his chair.

"Oh…um…sorry, Sherlock. I…uh…I didn't mean to scare you. Come out, please." He looked up and sniffled. "P-p-please, d-don't s-s-s-say any-th-thing like that again. I'm not the soc-i-o-path you think I am…I don't like hearing stuff like that…"

I actually laughed at that. He sounded so cute trying to say sociopath. "Sherlock, please, you are anything but the sociopath I knew. I just forgot that for a second."

"S'okay." He shrugged, and offered a small smile. "You wanna draw?" He offered me a piece of paper and a pencil. "Yeah, okay buddy. I'll draw with you."

"Can J-Jim draw with us?" I looked at Moriarty who shrugged. "If you don't kill me, I won't kill you." And that started our uneasy alliance between the toddler, the army doctor, and the consulting criminal.

Moriarty:

I heard Sherlock having a meltdown in the hall. He quieted down soon enough, but I knew that he was still going to be upset. So I grabbed some paper and pencils and just left the room, all the officers left the place to see Sherlock's tantrum. I must admit it was funny seeing it the first time myself, but I did want to have him work with me instead of them, so I walked into the room. They were asking Sherlock questions, and he just picked at his shoes and fiddled with his shoelaces. "Don't worry, he did something similar to me the second time he saw me." I instantly had two guns pointing at my chest. "Oh, no. You really shouldn't shoot me, Johnny-boy. Then poor Sherlock will never work with you." His eyes were widened in terror and he looked like someone just told him his pet puppy had died. He had such an innocence about him when he was like this. "Don't shoot him. Please." I tried my hardest not to snicker at how little he sounded. But he was 2, I reminded myself. Give him a sandwich and a smile and your instantly his best friend.

"Yeah…yeah, okay Sherlock. But you'll have to answer some questions for me, if you want me to do something for you. That's how it's going to work around here." Everyone was falling for him! It was unbelievable! Sherlock nodded and the guns were no longer pointed at me.

"Thank you. I was just bringing Sherlock there something to do anyway. He was yelling 'bored' earlier today at the top of his lungs, and I was hoping this would help." I pulled out the colored pencils and paper, and Sherlock was immediately focusing only on the supplies I held in my hand. "Thank you," he mumbled as he started working on his new toys. John seemed surprised that we were actually leading a mutual existence. I just smiled at him. Of course, I would have loved for Sherlock to work with me from the start. It was only because he worked for the other side I wanted to kill him. Now he could help me, and we could easily get along. John just sighed in defeat and got started. "Okay, Sherlock, ready for the questions?"

"Yeah." He was working hard on whatever he was drawing.

"Right then. Do you remember anything after you were taken?"

He stopped and looked up. "Like what? What I ate? How much I slept? What I did?"

"Well, did you get hurt in any way again over the past day?"

He shifted uncomfortably. I winced. "…Yes, but he did it on accident,"

"Who, Moriarty?" I suppose old Johnny-boy would assume it was me. "What did he hit you with?"

"…A dictionary." He showed some measurements that were if anything too small. "Sherlock, that's a really big dictionary. That can really damage your brain! And when I say really damage, I mean that if you got hard enough with that, I wouldn't be surprised if you got killed from it! Why in the world-"

"JOHN!" I blinked. I had never heard Mycroft yell before, let alone at John. But Sherlock was ready to cry, and John was completely unaware. He was pretty soon hiding under his security blanket and sobbing.

"Oh…um…sorry, Sherlock. I…uh…I didn't mean to scare you. Come out, please." He looked up and gave a pitiful sniff. "P-p-please, d-don't s-s-s-say any-th-thing like that again. I'm not the soc-i-o-path you think I am… I don't like hearing stuff like that…"

"Sherlock, please, you are anything but the sociopath I knew. I just forgot that for a second."

"S'okay." He started to smile, bouncing right back. "You wanna draw?" He handed John a pencil and paper. "Yeah, okay buddy. I'll draw with you."

His eyes flicked over to me. "Can J-Jim draw with us?" John looked at me questioningly and I simply answered, "If you won't kill me, I won't kill you." And soon we were drawing, all three of us, while Sherlock was explaining what happened from his point of view. When he came to the part about Mycroft giving him the blanket, the old Ice Man just blushed and looked away. When he said I comforted him and brought him PB&J, I shrugged and said, "What? I like sandwiches." Earning a small smile from John and a bigger one from Sherlock with a, "Me too." Then he got to the conversation he had with Mycroft, and both John and I looked surprised when Sherlock explained the hug to us. "He doesn't hug much, I can tell. But I also know he meant it." Soon he was done with his story, and with his drawing. It looked like a bunch of stick figures and squiggles, but for a kid who's 2 in a twenty-something year old man's body it wasn't bad. "That's very good, Sherlock." He smiled. "It's all of us. Running around London." Sure, some people were in the air and most of the coloring was done outside the lines, but if you looked at it and knew what it was, you could see it. He suddenly looked startled and bolted straight. John instantly looked around the room for any immediate danger, like all of us sitting at one table trying to be civil wasn't dangerous enough. "Sherlock, what is it?"

"I have to go to the bathroom."

He just stood there a moment then laughed. "Okay, buddy. I'll take you there. I'm assuming you are toilet trained already."

"Of course I am!" He looked very indignant. It was almost endearing when he pouted his lip as if to say I'm not THAT stupid. As they left, Mycroft and I shared a look. That drawing he made looked suspiciously like the last case he worked on. But as long as he kept quiet, we would be all right. But how do we to keep a 2-year-old Sherlock quiet about a scandal as big as that?

The scandal makes a reappearance! I'm trying to keep this as cutesy as possible, but next chapter Sherlock might make a revelation. Then things, as I like to say, get complicated. Hope you guys keep up the enjoyment!