Joe - 17

The Irregulars hated it when John left town. Partly because they missed their uncle but mostly because it meant that Sherlock wouldn't look after himself properly. John had been at a medical conference for a week, he was due back in two days time which was much too long in the kids opinion.

Sherlock had a case.

This was both good and bad.

Good, because he wasn't shooting walls or yelling about how bored he was at the top of his lungs.

Bad, because John wasn't there to be his voice of reason.

He didn't sleep or eat he just worked. Rushing down alleys after members of the organization responsible for a series of thefts that had recently stolen documents from Mycroft Holmes himself.

The group was clever and Sherlock was over the moon, finally something interesting was happening. The Irregulars groaned because now taking care of their father had fallen to them.

"Dad, don't you think you should sleep a little?" Joe suggested, "You've been at it for hours and well, maybe some rest will help you think a bit clearer?"

"Can't rest, thinking." Sherlock replied curtly.

Joe sighed, it was hard to talk to somebody when they were constantly pacing all over the room.

"Oh of course!" Sherlock exclaimed running for the door and grabbing his coat.

"Dad, wait!" Joe yelled.

Of course he didn't and Joe was left alone. Normally he would have simply gone home but then he spied John's hand gun on the table, the hand gun John specifically left so Sherlock could take it on cases to protect himself. The handgun which his father had forgotten.

Again.

He knew Sherlock wouldn't approve of him following, this group had proved to be ruthless when dealing with loose ends and spies. But he also knew that his father needed back up, at the very least he needed the gun. So Joe took off after him, quickly texting Dan and Carlo to follow him just in case.

'Safety in numbers' was one of Sherlock's lessons. Shame he couldn't follow it himself.

The other boys soon caught up with him by using their shortcuts, Sherlock wasn't in sight but luckily his children were brilliant and therefore able to track him, at least now when they were only a minute or so behind.

By the time they finally caught up with their father he was at the museum of all places. Obviously there was some link they weren't seeing but that didn't matter. It seems as if it was all for nothing as Lestrade was there with him as well helping to pile a number of men into police cars. How did Sherlock manage to catch them all in under a minute?

"Well, that was a waste of time." Dan panted, leaning on his knees.

"At least we got some exercise out of it." Carlo giggled.

"We shouldn't giggle it's a crime scene." Joe smirked.

"Guys, is that a police officer?" Dan cut in, pointing toward the smaller man sitting behind a small statue, hidden to Sherlock and the police but perfectly visible tot he boys.

They all tensed as he drew a small gun from his pocket.

"I don't think so." Joe replied quickly, "look out!"

The officers and Sherlock turned to face them with confused glances, they couldn't see the hidden danger. Were Sherlock more aware, that is if he had slept or ate in the past 24 hours, he would of noticed surely.

But he didn't.

Only when the man stood up and fired did they understand. However, Sherlock had bigger problems, namely the bullet that had just gone straight through his torso.

Carlo and Dan moved forwards instantly, at their fathers side and assessing the damage in seconds just as John had taught them to do. Joe felt his blood boil, how dare that man hurt his father! So while he brothers focused on healing, he focused on hurting.

Before the MET could do a thing about it Joe was on the gunman, knocking his weapon from his grasp and hitting his head painfully hard against the concrete. He wasn't sure when in the scuffle he'd drawn out John's Browning but he had and now it was pointed straight between the unnamed mans eyes.

"Joe, for God's sake!" Dan yelled.

"Put the gun down Joe." Lestrade ordered harshly.

The boy narrowed his eyes as the shocked man he was currently sitting on.

"Why should I?" He asked coldly.

"H-hey come on kid." The man stammered, "I wasn't going after you-"

"You hurt my father." Joe growled pushing the barrel against his head, "You shot my father"

"Relax, Joe." Dan cut in quietly, "Calm down, the bullet didn't hit any major organs and the ambulance is on it's way. He'll be fine."

"Joseph..."

Joe's gaze flicked over to Sherlock, he was leaning against a squad car while Dan and Carlo staunched the bleeding with his scarf. He was looking at him seriously, but his eyes were begging.

Don't do this, they said, you're not a killer.

The red fog that had descended over his eyes instantly cleared and Joe jumped off the man and stumbled back towards Lestrade who quickly took the gun. By then the Ambulance had arrived and both Carlo and Dan were with Sherlock going to the hospital.

"Come on mate," lestrade muttered, "I'll take you."

Joe was silent all the way to the hospital. He couldn't believe he let his temper get the best of him, he could feel himself reddening with both shame and embarrassment. There was also a mix of apprehension, what would Sherlock say?

Lestrade didn't seem to angry with him, but he didn't say much until they got to the hospital. The others explained that Sherlock was going to make a full recovery, the bullet had gone through his side, he'd lost a lot of blood but he was otherwise fine and resting in a private room.

"He wants to see you." Carlo told Joe quietly, "Alone."

He swallowed nervously.

He was glad for Mycroft's influence, getting Sherlock a private room, he didn't fancy the entire ward hearing his father talk about how disappointed he was.

To his relief the others were right. Sherlock looked fine, aside from being a shade paler than usual of course. If anything he looked bored.

"Ah, Joseph."

Uh oh, full name.

"Hey dad."

"Lost your cool a bit back there didn't you?" Sherlock continued, "you almost killed somebody."

Joe hung his head.

"I'm sorry." he muttered, "But he shot you!"

"Yes, but I am fine. I don't want you behind bars for murder before you're even an adult." Sherlock replied seriously.

John sat down in one of the plastic hospital chairs and looked at his hands.

"Did John ever tell you the story about Ms. Hudson and the American?" Sherlock asked much to the boys surprise.

"No." He replied, curious.

"Years ago, back when I first met Irene an American broke into our flat and attacked Ms. Hudson." Sherlock began, "He hit her and then kept her at gun point, she handle it quite well, no serious injuries and she acted much more feeble than she really is, even managed to trick the men long enough to hide the phone they had come looking for."

"I tricked the all the men except the leader into leaving and then knocked him out and tied him up. Once Ms. Hudson was safely out of the room with John I proceeded to beat him and then throw him out the window onto the bins."

Joe flinched at the idea, his brain was already making a list of possible injuries.

"Everybody looses their cool occasionally." Sherlock summarized, "But it's important to control fury and not let it control you. I knew exactly how much damage I was causing the man and when to stop so he wouldn't be killed."

"I need to learn to do the same thing?" Joe questioned, the detective nodded.

...

All of the Irregulars showed promise in different areas. Whether it be chemistry, observations, deduction or biology. They each had their calling and Sherlock was proud of them. However he always had an eye on Joe.

He was so much like himself at that age is was frightening, while he was not quite the intellectual Sherlock was at seventeen he had the personality down pact. Defensive, brash, temperamental, quizzical and curious. And more than anything he had a thirst to prove himself that Sherlock had always carried with him at that age and some time after.

He would go far.

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