A/N: This chapter is continuing to establish the story. Some fun little moments, but still getting everyone up to speed. I hope you enjoy it!

Grounded

"Ryder, are you all packed? Uncle Mycroft will be here in ten minutes to pick you up!" John called up to his son, dragging his own suitcase to the front door along with the hotel passes and basic identification tags for his and Sherlock's luggage. They had five days to themselves. It was Friday evening, Ryder had just gotten home for winter break, and Mycroft was coming to pick him up for their own mini-vacation to the northern part of Wales. Christmas day was next Thursday, so they would be home just in time to have a small, modest family Christmas with no interruptions. Sherlock followed behind him, taking along his own case, they were relatively small suitcases, carrying nothing except essentials. John had insisted on only bringing a mobile phone for emergency use only. No texting, no calls to Lestrade, no blogging, no Internet access. Just the two of them, but they had to maintain some electronic communication just in case, God forbid, anything happen to their son whilst they were away.

"You gave Mycroft the list, right?" Sherlock asked, looking back up the stairs to see if Ryder was following them or just wasting time in his room.
"Yes, I did. I even gave him measurements for the sugar intake. Not that he'll listen at all. Hush though, five days of no parenting, five days of being alone. It's not like Mycroft will maim him or anything." John scoffed, getting rather giddy at the thought of not having to wake up in the middle of the night to deal with night terrors, or glasses of water, or monsters under the bed. Even Holmes children believe in monsters in dark corners.

It was that moment they heard the knocking on the door, three short pounds on the wooden entrance, they both knew that to be Mycroft's signature knocking pattern. John opened the door wide, a smile spread over his face, as he shook his hand.
"Mycroft! Hello, how are you doing?" John greeted him politely, welcoming him inside their home. Mycroft stepped inside gingerly, stepping over top the suitcases in the foyer. He regarded Sherlock and John respectively, but looked over their shoulders towards the stairwell, asking the silent question.

"He'll be down in a moment, it takes him forever to get ready. I don't suppose you know where he inherited that trait?" John coughed, turning towards their flat door, calling up to his son.
"RYDER, HURRY UP! Uncle Mycroft is here! We have to get going!" He yelled, shaking his head.

"No, it's from his mother. The McHanns were never known for their speed." Mycroft said in a soft voice, his stoic pose faulting slightly at the mention of his deceased girlfriend's surname. John heard this, and if Sherlock had heard the wavering tone, he ignored it, still forever callous towards his relatives.
"I'm...sorry, Mycroft. She would have been a wonderful mother." John tried to be sympathetic, and for what he could tell, it worked to an extent, as the older man strraightened up, adjusting his tie.
"All the same, John. Rita is...gone, and Ryder has two wonderful parents able to care for him. I'm content being able to spend time with him at all, God knows I would be able to fit a child into my schedule. And the scandal would have gotten me fired for sure. I only wish to see him growing up in a Holmes household, even if it does belong to my little brother." Mycroft patted his brother on the shoulder, softened by emotion. John's heart seized slightly, he had seen the two brothers civil before; when Rita had died, for example, Sherlock had displayed a rare moment of tenderness and embraced his older brother in comfort. However, on a normal basis, Sherlock was stubborn and Mycroft was condescending. It made John grateful for the moments of normalcy they got every once in a while.

"Uncle Mycroft!" Ryder leaped down the stairs, suitcase banging harshly against the stairs, jumping down the last couple stairs, throwing himself into Mycroft's arms.
"Hello Ryder. I've missed you so much." The government worker grinned, lifting his biological son off the ground, keeping him close to his chest.
"You've grown so much since I last saw you." He remarked, putting the child down, looking him over.
"You look just like Sherlock." He finished, looking up at Sherlock, raising a brow. John heard the silent 'thank goodness' that all three adults seemed to be projecting. It made it easier to explain when the kid actually looked like Sherlock.

"Shall we help your fathers load up their suitcases and we can get you over to my house?" Mycroft took Ryder's hand in his own, picking up his suitcase for him and leading him out the front door, not waiting up for Sherlock and John, who grabbed their own cases and went to load them up in the boot of Mycroft's car.
"You're going to drop us off at the coach station, right Mycroft?" John asked to confirm, opening the door for himself and getting into the all too familiar car.
"Yes John, you're coach doesn't leave until half six, so we have a bit of time to wait." Mycroft buckled Ryder into his seat, before sliding into the driver's side, turning on the car ignition. John relaxed almost instantly. The world was in their favour at this moment. The brothers were civil, their son was happy and compliant, and he was going to have his boyfriend all to himself for five whole days. And it was Christmastime, no one was ever miserable around Christmas.

"Say goodbye to your fathers, Ryder." Mycroft instructed, waiting on the platform with his brother and his partner, standing beside his son, who was busy looking at his feet.
"Bye dad." The child with unruly curls hugged Sherlock tightly, he might be a Holmes; unattached by nature, but he was still a child, craving affection and acknowledgement by his parents. Sherlock, for all the things he never understood, knew this, and put a loving hand on his son's back. Technically they were still biologically related, and that attracted Sherlock to the boy. The fact that his flesh and blood was packed into a miniature, impressionable version of himself felt as if they were two magnets, drawn to each other through magnetic polarity. He never wanted to let go.

"Say goodbye to your other dad too, Ryder, don't be rude." Mycroft interrupted, seeing the obvious connection the two ebony haired Holmes' had. He knew he could never replace their bond, even if he was Ryder's actual father. Ryder was Sherlock's son, there was no doubt about the passing of gene's there. Ryder looked away from Sherlock and turned to John. Mycroft knew there was no resemblance between them at all. Ryder was, after all, half Holmes half McHann, but he got the brunt end of the Holmes stick. The Watson's weren't even involved. But there was something. Whether it was merely because John had raised him as his son, and Ryder grew up with John as a father, he didn't know. But there was definitely another unique, unbreakable connection between them. He watched as the miniature version of Sherlock hugged the Ex Army doctor tightly, his little hands wrapping around and digging into the cream coloured jumper John always wore. Mycroft was certain, at that moment, six long years after he had given up custody to the two dysfunctional crime stoppers, that he had made the right choice. Ryder belonged here.

"Alright, you two have a good trip, I'll have a car send for you once you return, once you get to my house you can have your son back. I'll stop by on Christmas day too if I can." He tore himself away from the picture perfect family portrait and back to reality. Taking a hold of Ryder's hand, they walked back to the car, ready for their mini vacation. Of course Mycroft had some work to do, but nothing he couldn't do at night when Ryder was asleep, from the comfort of his laptop. The country wouldn't collapse because he didn't show up, all the important work was easily accessible from his electronic devices.

"Be good for your uncle, Ryder! See you soon, we won't be long, we promise!" John called out, blowing a small kiss to his son, waving as Sherlock turned back to stand closer to the platform edge to wait for their coach. They had opted out of taking the train, seeing as it was slower then a tourist line bus. Ryder waved back at his parents through the tinted car windows, hoping they could see him. He knew he would miss his dads, but he was giddy with joy; Mycroft was his favourite relative, and he knew how much his uncle spoiled him rotten. This was going to be the best vacation ever.

"I do hope he behaves for your brother. He takes after you, you know." John sighed, standing beside his lover, entwining their hands in the concealed fold of his extra long coat sleeves. Sherlock did not flinch at the touch, instead he relaxed into the familiar feeling of John's short hands grasping at his own rather spindly appendages. Sherlock looked up at the sky; gray and cloudless, not allowing the sun to peek through. It was all so very England, he felt at home seeing the gray skies. When Ryder was younger they had vacationed to the west coast of Canada to see the Rocky Mountains and the infamous 'Canadian Desert', and surprisingly to Sherlock, who knew everything, it was as dull and gray, if not even more so, than their London home. It certainly was far wetter then London, that was certain, but he had felt at home there. It looked like England, it smelled like England, it felt homey. He had never experienced that anywhere else in the world they had traveled.

The feeling of nostalgia passed as quickly as it came, he shifted his gaze over to John's face, affixing itself to his features. His face was not as slender and clever as the detectives, but it had an intelligence far above any civilian he had ever encountered. It was possibly a bias due to his overwhelming affection for the soldier, but based on the detective's intelligence; he doubted it.
"He may look like me, but he acts more like you. You're the one who influences him most, you know." Sherlock said, assuring John that no matter the parentage, the mother figure always has more influence on a child. In their rare case, John was, without a doubt, the mother figure. Sherlock never used low labels to describe same sex partners, such as 'the woman of the relationship', but when it came to parents, there was definitely two sides, that case could not be disputed. John was calmer then Sherlock, John made the lunches and packed the school bags, and was the one to read bedtime stories, dealt with night terrors, sang the lullabies, everything a typical mother would do. As a baby, John had been the one to wake up and feed him most times in the middle of the night, John had changed the diapers, done the basic caring for him. Sherlock, like every father figure, was the one to sneak him out and do everything John said not to do. Although he didn't get the chance to do that too often-Mycroft had pretty much assumed that role.

"Tell that to the teachers next time they send home notes that 'Ryder made a potato battery in class and destroyed the projector screen'. Trust me, Sherlock, he acts just like you. Although he is perfectly content sitting around reading a book, he doesn't have to move around all the time." John, for one, was grateful for that. Ryder was only six though, he had plenty of time to make up for lost experiments and devastation of their apartment.
"He's the silently destructive type. That's my boy." Sherlock smiled. They hadn't had too much trouble with their son, of course there were tantrums, but nothing every parents doesn't already go through. Sherlock heaved a sigh, knowing what both he and Mycroft were like as teenagers; he knew John would have to prepare himself for the worst. It definitely wasn't going to be easy.

They stood together until their coach arrived. When it did, they loaded up their suitcases and filed into the large bus. Sitting behind some American tourists; Sherlock did some slight deductions of their character until he felt John's head resting upon his shoulder, then he sat in silence, his brain buzzing, but at a low speed. Only 4 hours until they reached Llangollen.

"What would you like to do first, Ryder?" Mycroft asked the ebony haired child sitting beside him in the passenger seat. He knew it was against the law for young children to be riding up front, but he couldn't possibly allow Ryder to sit in the backseat all by himself.

"Everything." The short, simple answers of a child. Mycroft grinned, chuckling to himself.
"Yes, of course. Your grandmother will be over for dinner tomorrow night so we can go out and see a movie if you want, I can have one of the maids order pizza and then we'll watch cartoons until you decide to go to bed. How does that for an evening itinerary sound?" The father knew how to spoil a child. He only wished he got to do it more often, but, on the other hand, if he did it too often, it would change Ryder's attitude, make him greedy and snarky. He didn't want to make any more trouble for his brother, considering they were doing him the biggest favour the World had ever known.
In exchange for raising his son, Mycroft provided the duo with large monthly sums of money; all expense paid trips every year, and to top it all off, got Scotland Yard to not pester them when Ryder was particularly fussy. Every two months or so, he would write the school board a 'monthly update' to keep them off the trail of the same sex parents. Schools in the area were highly suspicious of any family deemed outside of the 'norm'. That included divorced parents, single parents, same sex parents, young parents, old parents...anyone that could potentially 'stifle a child's growing mind'. He would definitely say that John and Sherlock had it fairly easy off thanks to the help Mycroft provided them.

Right now, however, he didn't need to concern himself with the troubles of his brother and his partner. He had Ryder for five whole days and God help them when they get their son back.

"Can we see the dinosaur movie?" Ryder asked, looking out the window, he really was quiet, but you could tell he enjoyed recieving all the attention. Even at home he had to share attention with everyone else and like every child, including Sherlock, he loved being the center of attention. Mycroft nodded, trying to engage Ryder in more conversation. They conversed until Mycroft pulled up to his manor. It was a modest manor, for what a manor is considered. It had 3 fully furnished floors, an ornate living room, seven bedrooms and five bathrooms all serviced by the multitude of maids he had kept to maintain the household and property. To Ryder, his uncle's house was a castle with endless oppertunities for hide and seek.

"I'll get your suitcase, once we get your stuff into your room we can go see that dinosaur movie you want." Mycroft shut off the car engine and opened the driver side door before opening the boot, taking out the small plaid case the child had brought with him. It was unusually light, he wondered what a kid could pack that left a case so light. Most children he knew stuffed every belonging they owned into their luggage and struggled to open it afterwards.
"What did you pack, Ryder?" Mycroft asked, suspicious of his son. Dreading internally that he picked up Sherlock's habits of 'packing light'.

"The usual stuff...puzzles, books, drawing pad." Ryder shrugged, walking up the steps to the front door whilst Mycroft stopped in his tracks, looking at the case he carried.
"What about clothing?" He asked, picking his car keys back out of his pocket, knowing he'd need to stop back off at Baker street.
"No, I don't need clothes, i'm already wearing some." Ryder shrugged with all the nonchalantness of a child, continuing to climb the steps, ignoring the fact that his uncle had stopped following him. Instead of chastising the boy, Mycroft gave up, shaking his head. He could always send Anthea to get clothing for the kid. He would send word tomorrow though, tonight he had plans.
Before entering the house, he fired off a quick text to John.

Did you even check his case?
Your son is going to go in public naked.
Not my fault.
-MH

A/N: Next chapter will be up by Monday, hope you guys are enjoying this! My dad and his boyfriend have pulled out all the old photo albums and home videos, so i'm getting more inspiration by the minute! Doing rough drafts and outlines though so it might take up my weekend. :)