"You're wrong again."
John was shoveling in an unusually huge hunk of meat. He refused to cut it and was biting into the end of it viciously. Sherlock rolled his eyes, he had decided to quiz the boy over his knowledge of the Jedi Order. "Did you hear me, young one? I said you were wrong again."
"I would though, Master." John was immediately defensive of his answer. Both Jedi were speaking in hushed tones. "I would save you if you were captured."
"You would no such thing." He pointed a spoon full of air at John. "You would go back to Jedi temple, get a new master, and be done with it." He wrapped his lips around his empty spoon. John snorted into his sugar drink.
"Would you save me?" He muttered.
"Of course I would, you're my responsibility." Sherlock fished soup out of his bowl and ate more. It had been an emotional day and for once he was abnormally hungry. He hoped it wouldn't last. John played with his veggies.
"Well I would save you too. I could be brave." John muttered.
"Bravery is a polite way of saying foolish, young one. This is a serious discussion, not the imagination of a child. If I am captured by a Dark Acolyte, which is a possibility, you will not come after me. Do you understand?" He demanded.
"Yes." John was far too quiet.
"Liar."
"I won't leave you." John said a little too loudly. Sherlock shushed him earnestly. John was far too loyal, far too quickly. It would make him easy to manipulate if he wasn't careful.
"John, in my line of work…"
"Holmes!" A loud voice called across the restaurant. Sherlock paled.
"Balls." He muttered.
A short, fat, grey haired man was running towards them waving. Sherlock put his spoon back in his bowl. John frowned, he knew Sherlock didn't eat nearly enough. John pouted at him. "You should eat."
"Shush." Sherlock said sternly. "I will when this idiot is gone."
"I thought he was your friend."
"Yes, so does he. John, he works with the Dark Acolyte, do not mention the Jedi Order and… don't take offense to his language."
"Yes, Mas…Sherlock."
"Holmes!" The man skidded to a halt in front of the table with a sneer. "Jesus, Holmes. You go away for ship parts and come back with a kid. How is that shitty piece of shit ship of yours?"
Sherlock's eyes narrowed. "Hope, for the last time I'm not selling you my "shitty piece of shit ship". Don't give me that look, it wouldn't take a mind seer to read your thoughts. This is my nephew. He is staying with me for a while. Is your employer ready to do business with me or not? You're wasting my valuable time if he isn't."
John waved his feet back and forth under the table trying to look innocent. Sherlock gave him an odd look, he forced himself to stop. Hope was blabbing more information that Sherlock did not seem interested in. John scraped his veggies off his plate when he thought Sherlock wasn't looking. Sherlock flicked him.
The force was annoyingly strong with his master.
"Tell your employer to forget it, Hope. I have no interest in him if he is going to waste my time and resources. I'm sure there are plenty of other buyers who are interested in my information. Come a long, John."
John gave him a panicked look. "But…but Sherlock…you promised you'd eat…"
Sherlock rolled his eyes. He grabbed his discarded bowl and slurped it down in one gulp. He wiped his mouth dramatically. "Is it okay to leave now, John?" He mocked.
John scowled at him and pushed away from the booth. He walked up to Sherlock, for whatever reason he sensed Hope to be horrible human being. He leaned against Sherlock's leg in need of comfort. The older man made no move to comfort his young padawan, but he did not brush him off completely. Sherlock turned to go guiding the boy by his shoulders. "Can I drive again?" John asked innocently. "Practice makes perfect, you said that."
"I suppose I did…"
"Holmes, my employer is not a man you want to turn your back on." Hope was following them to the speeder. John wished he'd just go away. He wanted his master to teach him more about the speeder. He had done pretty well, they had only crashed once, and he had dumped Sherlock out of the side only twice. Sherlock had even laughed a little.
"So you admit he's interested in me." Sherlock said calmly. "Tell him to contact me himself next time. I'd be happy to swap money for information. Good night." He steered John out swiftly. John had never seen Sherlock smiling so largely. "I'm so close John. He's slipping up. God, I'm in a beautiful mood." John nodded numbly.
Sherlock allowed John to crawl into his lap to drive. He noticed the small boy was absolutely quivering. "What's wrong, young one?" Sherlock asked in a low voice.
"I don't like that man, Master." John was trembling fiercely. "He felt…disgusting. His aura was all wrong. And then you said he worked for the Dark Acolyte, and the whole time I was panicking because I thought he'd find you out, and then take you away, and then you said I wasn't allowed to save you." John wiped the tears from his eyes.
"John, you're tired. Let me drive home." The older man had no idea where all the tears were coming from. Sherlock pulled John off his lap and put him gently in the next seat. John leaned against the side of speeder with tears flowing down his cheeks. He curled up into a small ball. Sherlock drove home in silence, John eventually cried himself to sleep. Sherlock pulled the car up next to the house and parked it. He examined the child curiously.
John was upset that Sherlock might be hurt. Why? Sherlock was a grown man, he could take care of himself. The small boy was still sniffling in his sleep still. Had Sherlock felt that way once about his master? He thought back to Lestrade.
He remembered how his silver haired master used to make him swear if anything went wrong Sherlock must run away before he'd take him on mission. Sherlock had always crossed his fingers.
He pulled the sleeping boy into his arms bridal style. He felt John's arms circle around his neck and nuzzle into his upper body. The feeling of affection, which Sherlock had long ago starved off, was creeping into his chest.
He unlocked his padawan's room. He was carrying the boy's pack in his free hand. Sherlock laid it on the table and cracked it open. There were no pillow, no blanket, nothing that would make John's bare cot a bed. Sherlock frowned, his bed had one blanket that was a necessity in the desert, but he could spare a pillow. Sherlock laid John on his cot, but the boy was already shivering. Nights in the desert were freezing. Sherlock removed his robe and laid it across John's small form. He retrieved his Jedi cloak and tossed it over the boy. His trembling stopped.
Sherlock found Mako and placed it under his padawan's arm. Sherlock also brought in his training light saber and set on the boy's table. He made sure the boy was completely tucked in before shutting off the lights.
"Goodnight John."
oOo
He was having a nightmare.
An absolutely awful nightmare.
He was watching himself sitting on a bed next to a man with horrifying red eyes and bright blond hair. The dream John was leaning into the huge man's side nodding to whatever he was whispering. There was a happy, obedient smile plastered all over dream John's face. But what terrified John the most was his dream counterpart's blank blue eyes. There was absolutely no shine to them, just clouds.
"Would you like to see him, Johnny?" The man said with an evil voice. It sounded like the Siths in the old training holograms.
The real John cringed, he hated the name Johnny. The dream John smiled wider. "Oh yes, Master Moran. I would." His voice sounded high and unnatural.
Behind the real John a door was sliding open. Two droids were dragging in an unconscious looking man between them, his head was bowed but his dark hair was matted with blood. There was a gash through his right ear that dripped blood down onto his shoulder. The real John felt sick as Sherlock looked up at dream John through swollen eyes. "John?"
"No!" Real John screamed. "I'm here Master! Please, I'm here!"
"Hello." Dream John gave Sherlock a crooked grin. "Master Moran said you wanted to see me?"
"Master…Moran? John, please run. You promised me you would run away!" Sherlock thrashed against the droids holding him. The hit him over the head repeatedly until he stopped moving.
"Oh yeah." Dream John said happily. "I was going to save you. So you would tell me you were proud of me, cause you never told me that. But Master Moran caught me. He said he was proud of me right away, he gave me a shot too, but that stopped hurting. He's so proud of me. I like this master, he likes me." Dream John's smile never failed.
"John, I am proud of you. I AM! I have never not been proud of you." Sherlock spat out a wad of blood.
"You say that now because you don't want me to be with Master Moran."
"John I am proud of you. You should have run. You stupid, stupid boy." Sherlock had tears streaming down his face.
Dream John's eyes narrowed and suddenly he was shouting. "You always called me stupid! Always! You never told me I was clever! NEVER!" He shrieked the last word.
"John." Moran whispered softly. The creepy smiled reappeared on dream John's face.
"Yes, Master." Dream John activated his training light saber. "May I torture him now?
"Yes, my young apprentice."
Sherlock was screaming before the blade ever touched his skin.
oOo
John woke up screaming for his master.
Sherlock, who was in the next room over, was sitting next to him in a matter of seconds. John didn't realize Sherlock had been sitting in on his dream through mediation. John was too busy clinging to Sherlock to realize the older man's white face. John was crying into his chest, apologizing for a dream he didn't know Sherlock knew about. Sherlock didn't know how to react.
"John."
The boy wailed louder.
"John." Sherlock said a little more firmly. John looked at him through tears, his face was dark red from sobbing. Sherlock would not handle tears, it wasn't something he was good at, nor would he pretend to be good at. He picked the boy up silently, John pulled himself closer to Sherlock. "Stop crying." Sherlock said shortly. This only made John sob harder.
"No. No. John, no." Sherlock squeezed him, he allowed the padawan to sniffle quietly into his neck. Sherlock sat down on a couch with John perched in his lap. Two hands were clinging to the front of Sherlock's shirt. "John, I am not angry at you for crying. But you are a padawan now, you must calm down. All dreams pass in time, focus on that."
"I'm little." John sobbed. "I'm too little."
"Size doesn't matter, young one. Not when you're clever, look at Master Yoda. The little green midget."
John snickered through tears. "He's my size."
"Yes."
"So, I'm not a midget."
"No, you're a youn…padawan." Sherlock stopped mid-way through the word youngling as he remembered John hated it. John's baby soft hair was tickling his chin. "You will grow, John. But because you have already started growing no more tears. There is nothing to be scared of or sorry for." John was relaxing the more his master spoke. He wasn't going to cry anymore and he certainly wasn't going to be the padawan of anyone other than Sherlock.
"Master, who is Moran?" John whispered softly.
"He is the Dark Acolyte I have tracked here, John. He is not someone to fear." Sherlock lay back and let John sprawl out on his chest. "He's a great big idiot, who wishes to bring something back that died long ago."
John whimpered into his chest. "He was what my nightmare was about. He hurt you."
"I am the one who is protecting you, little one. Don't go around trying to protect me."
John smiled into Sherlock chest. He liked it when Sherlock called him "little one" it seemed less formal and more fond. He let himself feel safe pressed against Sherlock's chest. "I don't wanna lose anyone again." John whispered into his master's chest.
Sherlock asked him softly what meant, but John was already snoring peacefully on his chest. Sherlock reflected on the dream.
Master Moran?
You promised me you would run away!
He likes me.
I AM proud of you!
You always called me stupid.
Yes, MY young apprentice.
Sherlock would never admit it to his padawan, but the dream had frightened him too. He had always been able to divorce himself from feeling, but with the thought of his padawan being at the mercy of that beast.
He was very afraid.