Michael's Deduction

Genre: Family

Pairings: Sherlock and Sally, background

Main characters: Sherlock, Michael, Grace

Grace Holmes was full of sass and loving every minute of watching her barely younger brother squirm.

"I'm telling you Mikey, you really need to see it. Oh, it's SO fascinating, and Daddy doesn't get nearly as upset as you'd think."

Michael glanced over at their father, sitting in his chair, serene as a sun bathed meadow on a calm Sunday afternoon. His hands were raised in their familiar steeple in front of his face, and his eyes were closed. Upon his face was the expression of utter peace and relaxation.

"I don't think so Gracie," Michael insisted. "I really think we should just leave him alo…"

"I DARE YOU."

Michael glared at his twin, his full lips pursing and his cat eyes narrowing. His young face was full yet, not yet taken on the familiar chiselled features of his father that would one day become prominent upon his own face. "I call no fair."

"I DOUBLE dare you." Grace crossed her arms and cocked her head, her tight ebony curls bouncing ever so slightly.

Michael sighed heavily, and quietly padded over to Sherlock. With one last glare at his sister, he gingerly crawled into his father's lap, snuggling down, and whispering, "Daddy, may I come in?"

Sherlock looked around. Oh, WHY did his children insist upon interrupting him like this… well… most likely it was Grace's doing, he surmised. Michael was generally far more obedient than his spirited twin sister.

"I believe the point is moot, Son," Sherlock said with a sigh. "You're already in. Let me guess. Your sister dared… no, DOUBLE dared you."

Michael couldn't stop a tiny giggle. "Yes, Daddy. I'm so sorry, but I couldn't… I mean… how would it have looked if I'd…"

Sherlock smiled at this, opening his arms. "No worries, my dear boy. You know, sometimes when Grace is here, it helps. She's very skilled with organization, and she's actually a great help to me. I confess I often become so engrossed in what I'm doing that things tend to become a bit…"

"Messy?" Michael asked, hopefully, as he settled into his father's embrace. "Oh Daddy, you're like that outside of your mind palace too. Oh, it drives Mummy MAD, and Mrs. Hudson even MORE mad," he giggled. "Did you know she's our landlady, not our housekeeper? Daddy why is she always cleaning then?"

"Because Mrs. Hudson is very, very special, Michael," Sherlock responded. "In fact, she's like Uncle John, and Uncle Greg. They like to put up a front for people to see, but only very special people get to see who they TRULY are."

"Is that why Uncle John is like… well like your brother? And Uncle Greg, why he's like Granddad Holmes, only much younger and better… oh please don't tell your daddy I said that… and Daddy… is that why you seem so… cold with some people? You don't want them to see who you REALLY are?"

Sherlock thought on this as he absently toyed with his son's hair, twirling the curls in his fingers. "I suppose, yes. But I also must ensure to keep my emotions and feelings in check when I'm working, I mustn't compromise my ability to use logic and reason while I'm examining clues and evidence. Such things leave absolutely no room for emotions. Logic and reason MUST be cold and unfeeling."

"So then… when you SEEM to be cross and impatient and rude… you aren't really? You're only ignoring your feelings?" Michael inquired thoughtfully. He smiled sweetly up at Sherlock, who returned a warm grin to his boy.

"Exactly," Sherlock said, reaching down to pick him up. "Ooof," he grunted, as he settled the young boy on his hip, "son, even in my mind palace you have gotten nearly too big to pick up like this."

Michael merely smiled at this, resting his head on his father's shoulder and sighing happily. "Do you know what I think, Daddy? I think that you don't waste your emotions at all when you shut them off. You save them for when you can let them out, like when you're home with us, or out with Uncle John and Uncle Greg at the pub. Then you love all of us TWICE as much because you have so much more emotion to let out."

Sherlock cleared his throat, pondering what his son had just said. Briefly, he wondered where he'd come up with the notion, then thought about it a few moments more.

Yes, that was perfectly logical and reasonable. After all, he knew what happened if anger and frustration were suppressed and forced to build up unreleased… one became something of a ticking bomb ready to go off at a moment's notice over any little thing that might act as a spark upon a mound of gun powder. So if that were true for negative emotions, why should it not also be true for positive ones?

"Son, I believe your logic is quite sound there," Sherlock finally chuckled softly. "You are more like your sister than you would ever care to admit. That is a most brilliant deduction, my dear boy."

Michael, indicating a desire to be set down, landed softly on his feet as Sherlock – not without considerable relief to his shoulders and back - lowered him to the floor. "Thank you Daddy, I'm not very good at deductions. But sometimes things are just… well, just as obvious as Gracie says they are."

"Indeed," Sherlock replied. "Now, for as much as I enjoy having you here, I really must get back to work. Your Uncle Greg is expecting my take on the case we worked on together today. I believe we've come very close to solving it."

"Yes Daddy," Michael smiled. "I'll see you later then, at dinner perhaps? Oh you MUST remember to eat. Mrs. Hudson says you're getting too thin again, and Uncle John thinks…" he rambled on, as Sherlock gently nudged him towards the Palace door.