150 reviews, we did it! So as promised here is a story about a Sherlock and John family. Enjoy!

Every day John had just enough time during his lunch break to come home and eat with Sherlock, or to at least attempt to get his husband to eat. Most of the time they just shared coffee and talked about their days until John had to go back to work.

Today however when John made his way up the stairs and opened the door to 221B, there was an extra person in the flat.

John walked in and saw two identical heads of curly black hair on the couch, one of them darted down to hide as he walked through the door.

"Sherlock..." John sighed. "Why is Arthur home so early?"

"A small incident occurred. Nothing to be concerned about." Sherlock turned to look at his returning husband, his face calm and unwavering.

"A small incident that required he leave school? Again? What happened." John rounded the couch to where Sherlock and Arthur sat. It appeared that the eight year old was trying to hide his face in his father's blue bathrobe, though John could still make out pouting lips and scornful eyes, one of which appeared to be bruised.

"Oh god...Arthur." John gently pulled the child out of his sanctuary to examine the black eye. "Not too serious but you need ice on this...Arthur what happened?"

The child remained silent, sulking in the exact manner that Sherlock always did. John shook his head and went to the kitchen to retrieve some ice and Sherlock left the couch to follow.

"From the positioning of the bruise I can tell that he was fighting more than one person." Sherlock mentioned.

"Children. Sherlock they weren't brutal attackers they were other children, and you know as well as I did that he started that fight." John hissed just low enough that their son wouldn't hear.

"Actually..."

"Sherlock, I do not need you to deduce what happened I need you to get out there and tell him that fighting is wrong." John cried exasperatedly. "He'll listen to you, for whatever reason you're the only one he listens to." John rubbed at his temples with a sigh. "Was he suspended this time?"

"Yes." Sherlock stared at his husband with unreadable eyes, his hands finding the spot on John's shoulder where a bullet had once pierced the skin and was now prone to tight stress knots. He worked his fingers against it and John leaned his forehead against Sherlock's.

"Were you this much trouble as a kid? Clearly your DNA won out in the surrogate race, so you can't blame this on me." John teased, though Sherlock's lips formed a disapproving pout.

"Father."

The couple that stood intertwined in the kitchen turned at the sound of their son's voice. They both knew which one of them was 'father' and which one was 'dad', so Sherlock left to go see what Arthur wanted. He leaned down over the couch so that the eight year old could whisper in his ear. A smile spread out across the detective's face and he whispered something back before making his way back to John.

"What was that all about?" John folded his arms over his chest, not liking the looks of things.

"Well for one he's figured out my phone's password again." Sherlock said, his voice full of pride. "Two, Lestrade needs to see us."

John rolled his eyes, he better call in to work and tell them he needed the rest of the day off. By now he knew that 'us' meant all of them and no way he was letting Sherlock take Arthur to a crime scene by himself. Heaven forbid that ever happen, who knows what they'd do!

"When we get home we're talking about what happened at school today, you got it? Both of you?" John addressed the two detectives in a soldier's voice.

"Hurry up, John!" Sherlock replied, hurriedly dressing himself as he walked through the living room. John looked down at Arthur who was still perched on the couch with his father's phone, no doubt texting Lestrade asking for more details.

"Why me?" John sighed.

As soon as they arrived on the crime scene Sherlock and his little shadow took off for the body, John trailed behind them. A part of him was happy that Sherlock had finally found someone besides him with whom he could bond, another part was still jealous that the only resemblance Arthur and him had was that they both wore jumpers. He was also worried, what if all this fighting at school was because of everything he saw while out and about with his consulting detective of a father. Surely witnessing the work of a murderer was not good for a child's development.

John walked up to Lestrade and after a grunted greeting the cop and the doctor watched the two pale figures examine the body.

"What can you tell about the bruises around the neck?" Sherlock quizzed, and Arthur leaned in to examine the dead women's neck.

"...They're from hands, not rope. These ones here are long fingernails. So she was killed by another woman." Arthur replied and Sherlock gave a nod of approval.

"Good. Now the hands."

"Now that's just uncanny." Lestrade whistled. "We'll have to hire this one too pretty soon. Does he work for juice boxes?" He cut off his joke mid laugh when he saw John's irritated face.

"Oh lighten up." The detective inspector sighed. "The kid's a natural and he's enjoying himself. It could be worse, some kids his age are holy terrors."

"I'm afraid mine is turning into a terror, do you see the bruise on his eye?" John groaned. "He's just like him, Greg. Just like him."

"I never thought there'd be two of them. God help us all." Lestrade chuckled.

"As if we needed more than one." Came the usual whiny retort from Anderson.

"Oi, belt up." Lestrade shot back. "That's his kid you're talking about. Act your age."

Suddenly Arthur ran up to Lestrade and pulled on the detective inspector's sleeve, his eyes bright. Lestrade knelt down to look the child in the eyes.

"She was killed by her sister, who wanted her husband." He stated simply, turning to walk back to Sherlock's side. Then he stopped and turned around again. "Obviously." He dropped the word into the air and let it hang there dripping with that usual brand of Holmesian malice.

John's jaw dropped.

"Sherlock. Here, now." He growled, trying to ignore Lestrade's stifled laughter. Sherlock walked up to John, unabashed.

"Yes?" He asked softly.

"Did you tell him to say that?" John snapped, not the least bit amused.

"No."

"So he just decided to talk back to an adult all on his own?" John sighed. "We need to talk to him when we get home."

"He did well." Sherlock commented. "He noticed the hairs under her fingernails."

"He talked back to an adult. Using your words mind you." John rolled his eyes. "Priorities, Sherlock."

"Fine. Let's go home and have a family scene. I however am very proud that he has learned to tell the difference between different strangulation bruises."

"Priorities!"

Dinner at the Holmes-Watson residence usually took place around a chemistry set, though John had told Sherlock many times that he would have to move it he still didn't. After dinner Mrs. Hudson came up with some biscuits for Arthur, who she had begun calling her grandchild. Then it was time for the talk.

"Arthur, you want to tell me what happened in school today?" John was sitting in his chair across from the couch where Arthur sat. Sherlock was busy tinkering with acids on the dinner/laboratory table.

Arthur sat silently, looking at his children's sized Oxfords. His lips began to pout and he avoided John's glance.

"Arthur." John said a bit more fiercely. "I am your father. You can tell me anything, and you must tell me what happened today."

"...I was helping Rose."

"Rose?" John tilted his head, the name was unfamiliar to him. It was probably just a girl in Arthur's class, still he'd never heard of her before.

"Rose." Arthur nodded. "Her dad was deployed and some big boys were making fun of her saying he didn't love her."

"...really?" John felt an intense disgust for whatever kind of child that would make such an outrageous comment.

"I told them they were idiots."

There it was again, that undeniable bit of Sherlock that Arthur so easily emulated.

"Then they told me to go away and tried to pull Rose away with them. So I fought them." Arthur nodded. "Some grown ups came and got us all in trouble."

John sighed, he would have done the same thing. How could he yell at his kid for doing something that was technically right? He could teach him that hurting was wrong but in this case all he was doing was protecting someone innocent...

"I like Rose." Arthur said suddenly, cutting into John's thoughts. "She can be my partner. Like you are to father."

John gaped, then he smiled.

"A crime fighting partner?" He asked, chuckling.

"That too." Arthur replied slyly, and that's when John really started laughing. "She's strong and clever so she can help me. Plus she's twelve so people take her more seriously. That will help when dealing with the police."

"Alright well you're off the hook for now, but fighting it still wrong you got that? Next time try to think of another way to solve things." John ruffled his son's hair. Fighting off boys, outnumbered, to save a cute older girl? Maybe there was some of him in this child after all.