After an hour of splashing and giggling from the bathroom (many of them sounding like Sherlock rather than Jessica) John heard the shower start running and tiny footsteps plodding damply down the stairs. "Mister Watson?" called Jessica, and he waved from his place on the sofa. She was wearing Sherlock's t-shirt and skull shorts again. "Mister Holmes says you have to do an experiment with my cut." She ran over to sit next to him and showed him the scrape on her elbow. Now that the surrounding skin was clean, there were obvious signs of infection visible.
He made a sympathetic noise and gently pulled her arm closer to get a better look. "That looks a bit sore; sorry for grabbing at it earlier. When did you get the cut?" he asked, trying not to use his professional voice that tended to put children off.
"Um...I don't really remember. It was raining and I fell in a puddle and a lady in a shop gave me a plaster."
Well, that certainly helped. "Okay, er, you sit tight; I'm going to go get my bag from upstairs and put some medi- magic potion on this, okay?"
Jessica nodded gravely, keeping her sore arm cocked out to the side so it wouldn't bush the back of the sofa as John got up. He'd worked with enough children to know that the word 'medicine' usually triggered tears, and so covered up the label of his iodine to make sure Jessica didn't see.
The water stopped running just as he was coming out of the bedroom with the medicine and bandage - all that splashing about must have gotten Sherlock started getting clean before the shower. He prayed for the state of the bathroom before heading back down to the sitting room. "Alright, one magic doctor potion for icky cut experiments," he announced as he replaced himself on the sofa. Jessica looked on with interested trepidation. "This stuff is special. It stings a bit, but it's such a pretty yellow that you hardly even notice. Are you ready?"
Taking a very deep breath, she nodded and held out her elbow. Brave girl.
"Ow! Ow ow ow ow ouch!" she shrieked as John swabbed the cut, kicking her feet into the side of the sofa ferociously enough to make the whole piece of furniture shake. Tears flooded her eyes but she held them back, sniffling enormously to keep them from spilling over.
John apologized all the way through, cleaning away any extra solution to keep her from getting a big yellow blob on her arm, and then deftly wrapping her elbow and pulling her in for a hug. "There, all done, you did so well," he praised, suddenly wishing he had a sticker or sweet to give her like at the surgery.
There were footsteps thundering on the steps, and suddenly Sherlock burst into the room, still dripping but at least covered. "What happened?" he demanded, obviously having heard Jessica and now seeing her tears. He sagged slightly when he saw the bandage, and quickly composed himself. "Oh, of course. Right. Well, I'll just..." The taller man vanished back up the stairs, face a brilliant shade of red that John wished he could have photographed.
"What a worrywart, eh?" he said to Jessica once they were alone again, still hugging her with one arm. She smiled wanly at him, wiping her eyes. "You're much braver than you look." To make her smile more natural, he tapped her nose to emphasize the word much. "And it feels better now, doesn't it?"
She nodded quietly, but didn't pull out of John's arm just yet. "Mm-hmm." If anything, she snuggled closer. The mobile in John's pocket suddenly felt heavy as lead. For the best for the best for the best...
"Do you want to help me make supper?" he asked when the tears had quite literally been cuddled out of the girl, and she happily followed him into the kitchen. He'd bought a pre-cooked chicken so they wouldn't have to wait as long, but all of the vegetables were as fresh as could be found in October. With Jessica watching a safe distance away he prepared them on the stove.
She wrinkled her nose at the smell of the mixed broccoli and carrots. "I don't really like that stuff," she said idly.
Before John even could think of a way to coerce her into wanting vegetables Sherlock was swooping in to the rescue, now mostly dry and recovered from his embarrassment. "Are you certain?" he asked bemusedly. "Because they've just put another Very Important Scientist rule into place last week, and it includes eating all of one's veggies."
"Really?" deplored the girl with a pout.
Sherlock nodded. "I'm afraid so. But if the contents of this pot over here are what I think they are, John's also making potatoes, and potatoes and vegetables mixed are probably one of the most delectable things in all the cosmos."
When Jessica did not look convinced Sherlock leaned in. "Would I lie to you?"
Instantly she shook her head, and when John put a helping of veg and potatoes on her plate she barely grimaced at all before copying Sherlock, using the mashed potatoes as a sort of dip for her vegetables. "Yeah, I guess this is okay," she shrugged. John and Sherlock shared a smile over her head.
As the evening dragged on, and they were watching some family-friendly film, Sherlock leaned across the sofa to John. Jessica was lying on her belly on the floor, staring rapt at the computer-animated fish and absently scratching the spot above her bandaged elbow. "You know, it would be simply irresponsible of us not to keep an eye on that infection overnight," he reasoned.
Well, John was never one to fight with logic. He powered down his mobile for the night and wrapped an arm around his husband's shoulders.
Before tucking her in on the sofa John put ice on Jessica's elbow for ten minutes or so. She was already getting worn out and didn't put up much of a fight. When he finished and got up to go upstairs, he was stopped in the door by Sherlock, who nodded at the sofa. He turned and sat Jessica watching him with her skinny little arms outstretched. Heart fit to burst, John went back, and gave her a hug and a quick kiss on the head before tucking the blanket more firmly around her. "Goodnight, Jess."
"Goodnight Mister Watson."
He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "You're a good girl, Jessie." Then, before the lump in his throat got any bigger, John stood up and shuffled up to bed, leaving Sherlock to his goodnights.
He felt his husband climb into bed a few minutes later, wrapping thin arms around his waist. "We have to call them tomorrow, Sherlock. I mean it. Two days is an act of kindness; three is an arrangement."
Sherlock pressed a kiss to his shoulder. "Why can't it be?" he asked, voice oddly quiet. "Couldn't we, I don't know...keep her?" The silence was suddenly filled with tension that clung to their skin like fog. John tried not to think about it too much.
"No, Sherlock. She's not a puppy. She's still grieving for her dad and needs a stable environment that we can't provide."
The arms around his waist tightened almost convulsively, as though his husband was not in full control of his actions. "I could take time away from work with the Yard until she's back to a normal routine. It might take some catch-up for the school she's missed, but Jessica's bright, she'll be caught up in no time at all, and -"
"Sherlock." John closed his hand around one of Sherlock's. "She has family, and they're looking for her. I found her on a missing persons list today at the surgery."
"But she doesn't want to go with them!" protested Sherlock instantly, fighting to keep his voice low. "She feels extraneous and unwanted with her uncles and foster cousins, can't you see that? She likes it here, and for some strange reason she likes us, and I just know she'll adore Mrs. Hudson and maybe having a niece will convince your sister to sober up! We could adopt her, John; we're financially sound, and we have my old bedroom that we can arrange, and - and..."
The detective buried his face in John's shoulder, burrowing there in the same way Jessica had only a few hours ago when the iodine had stung her. "What's gotten into you?" John asked, wrapping himself around Sherlock tightly. "I mean it, Sherlock, what's got you so upset over this? What made you take her home in the first place?"
He waited patiently, making the tone of his silence clear that he was not asleep but expectant. After a long enough time, Sherlock's body relaxed against his and he breathed a slow sigh against John's neck. "She was alone."
"What?"
Another sigh. "She was alone, John. I told you about the few months I was sleeping rough after uni. I was able to interact with groups of homeless adults who functioned perfectly on their own, but I never got near the children. Not because there weren't any - they're everywhere and it's fucking tragic - but because they stuck together. They kept watch over one another and when they saw a stranger coming they fled together to hide in a place so safe you or I could never find it in a hundred years. They become one another's family, and they never separate. But she was alone. Jessica was alone, with no one to look out for her, so I took it upon myself. I never expected her to be so bright or so..."
"Loving?" suggested John. The only response he got was Sherlock reinforcing his tight hold on John's midsection. He didn't know if that was a confirmation or a denial.
He didn't know what to say, either. Sherlock knew what he was talking about, that much was certain, but it still wasn't on to just pluck a child off the streets and claim her as one's own, especially if she had family worrying about her. And yet, his mind was working, trying to find some way, some glimmer of hope that even if they couldn't take Jessica in, maybe they could still see her once in a while, but even that seemed hopeless. Anyone would be wary of the two strange men who let a child into their home for no apparent reason and then wanted to see her again - the two strange men being gay, of course, never factoring in for some reason.
Sherlock didn't seem to want an answer anyway, and fell asleep with his lips pressed to John's shoulder. With a sigh that seemed to make his whole body shake, John nestled himself down and tried to do the same. He didn't dream.