Treasure

"Where did you hide the treasure, evil Captain?!" Ian shouts, holding his plastic sword up in a fighting stance.

Sherlock grabs his throbbing head. He waves a hand at Ian's sword. "Not now, son. My head aches."

Ian frowns and follows Sherlock to the sofa. "What's wrong, Daddy?"

Sherlock groans as he throws his aching body onto the sofa. "Just a bit ill, son, that's all." Sherlock lays down on the couch; Ian stands at his head. "Tell you what," Sherlock takes hold of Ian's hand. "Daddy's going to lay here a minute, ok? And you go look for the treasure."

The five year old's eyes light up with excitement. "Well, where is it?"

Sherlock lets go of the little hand. "You've got to find it."

Ian nods. "Ok, Daddy. I'll be back!" Ian hops away and runs up the stairs to his bedroom.

Sherlock, completely sure he's sick with the flu, turns over on the couch and quickly falls into a light sleep.

Ian tears his room apart looking for treasure. "What could it be?" he asks himself, digging through the toys in his toy chest. "Treasure is usually money…" with a sudden idea, he runs to his desk where his piggy-bank sits. He picks the plastic pig up and shakes it. "Darn!" he shouts. "Dad emptied it two days ago."

Ian stands in the center of his room and thinks. His hands automatically come together and rest below his nose, over his lips. He stands that way a few minutes, then realizes his treasure could be anywhere; he runs down the stairs to his dads' room.

He throws the door open and scans the room before stepping in. "Dad must have cleaned…" he thinks out loud. He goes to the night stand and opens the drawer, revealing a mess of junk. He quickly spots his Dad's watch, so he grabs it and examines it.

After a minute, he grunts in frustration. "No, no this isn't it!" He throws the watch back into the drawer and searches the room some more. He goes to the wardrobe and searches there, but all he finds is a box of his Dad's army things and a box of memorabilia from previous cases. Neither box interests him, so he closes the wardrobe and hops onto the bed. He jumps a few times before jumping down and going back to the sitting room.

Ian stares at his dad on the sofa while he thinks about the treasure. He sees Sherlock's wallet peaking out of his back pocket, but doesn't think anything of it until Sherlock shifts and the wallet falls to the floor. Curious, Ian picks the wallet up and opens it.

He examines everything. Sherlock's driver's license, a small photo of John and Ian, receipts, Sherlock's credit card, and finally Ian finds the treasure. Many, many bills.

"Ooooh," Ian sighs, taking the bills out. He counts them one by one until he finishes, and there are fifteen bills. His face positively glows. "Fifteen pounds…" he mutters before closing Sherlock's wallet and putting it back in Sherlock's pocket.

Ian hears John unlock the front door and he quickly runs up the stairs. He hides his treasure and returns downstairs by the time John sits on the coffee table next to Sherlock.

"Hey, pal," John says, holding a hand out to Ian. Ian hops to him and lets John hug him. "Did you have a good day? What did you and Daddy do?"

"It was great! Daddy and I went to Bart's, then we got coffee at a shop—"

"Did Daddy give you coffee?"

Ian looks disappointed. "No. It was chocolate milk."

"Good. What did you do after that?"

"We got lunch, then we came home and Daddy fell asleep."

John combs Ian's unruly hair down. "Great. Well, let's go for dinner for Daddy, alright?"

Ian nods and races upstairs for his shoes.

When they get home with dinner, Sherlock is up and making tea.

"What are you doing? Go back to the sofa!" John says as he sees his husband.

"I'm perfectly fine, John. I feel much better—" his sentence is cut off by a loud and forceful cough. The sentence didn't come out very well, anyway, with his stuffy nose.

John pushes him out of the kitchen. "Go! I'll being you tea."

Sherlock goes back to the sofa and sits, then uncomfortably pulls his wallet out of his back pocket. He happens to throw it onto the table so it flips open as it lands. From the angle it sits, he can see there is no money in it. "John!" Sherlock calls.

"Yes, love?"

"Did you take my money?"

Ian glances at John; nobody notices.

"What money?"

"From my wallet. I had nearly three hundred pounds."

"Why were you carrying that much cash?"

"I always carry that much cash."

John stares at Sherlock. "Then why do I always pay for cabs?"

Sherlock rolls his eyes. "I don't have time for an argument. Did you take my money or not?"

"No, I didn't."

Sherlock sighs. "I don't know what happened to it," he throws the wallet onto the table. "This is just perfect."

"You probably forgot to put it in your wallet. Check your trousers."

Sherlock stands and pulls his pockets out. "Nothing, see?"

John serves Ian dinner. "We'll find it," he tells Sherlock.

The next day, nobody brings up the money at all. Ian decides he doesn't want to get in trouble, though, so he hides the money in his piggy bank. He goes about his day and doesn't think about it again.

The day after that, John decides to go up to Ian's room to straighten up. He noticed it was torn apart (from Ian searching for treasure), so he cleans the room. When he straightens up Ian's desk, he picks up the piggy bank and hears movement inside it. Curious, since he emptied it a few days ago, John picks up the pig and empties it. Inside, he finds Sherlock's money. John takes a deep breath and goes downstairs.

Ian and Sherlock are sitting at the sofa playing games on the iPad when John walks in. He throws the money onto the coffee table. Ian looks up with wide eyes. John crosses his arms and stares at his son.

"Can you please tell me what Daddy's money was doing in your piggy bank?"

Ian bites his lip and looks at John, then Sherlock. Sherlock is staring at him. "I-I-I…" Ian stutters. "It was treasure!" he pleads.

Sherlock buries his face in his hand. "I told him to find the treasure so I could have a few minutes of rest."

John looks at Sherlock. "Did you tell him to find your money?"

"No, not the money."

John looks back at Ian. "Why didn't you give it back a few days ago?"

"I didn't want to get in trouble," Ian mumbles.

Sherlock wraps an arm around Ian. "Next time, please give the treasure back, ok? Rather, please don't take money. Ok?"

Ian nods. "You're not mad?"

"No, I'm not mad that you took the money. I'm—we're just a bit upset that you kept it from us. Ok? Tell the truth next time."

Ian nods. "Ok. I'm sorry, Daddy."

Sherlock hugs him. "It's alright."

John ruffles Ian's hair. "What were you going to do with three hundred pounds anyway, young man?"

"I thought I'd buy a candy bar," Ian truthfully states.

John and Sherlock burst into laughter.

"I'm sure we can get you one," Sherlock says.

*Hey guys. Haven't really been in a writing mood. Hope you like this, though!