Sherlock needed silence.

John was gratefully the bond shared his master's wishes and he heeded it with absolute quiet. He stole swift glances upward as his master drove the speeder on its lowest setting back to their small home. John gave a small cough. "Master Mycroft said not to make him wait, sir."

"Yes, little one. Unfortunately this blasted thing will not go any slower." Sherlock said evenly.

"Don't you mean faster?" John asked quickly.

"If I had meant it I would have said it, little one." Sherlock glanced at his padawan with the familiar look of a teacher. "I will rarely ever say anything I don't mean, it is the traits of a Jedi."

"Oh." John blushed a little. "Isn't it better to be kind at times, Master? Instead of being blunt?"

"You are suggesting lying, padawan. We've had this conversation before." Sherlock trained his eyes on the road.

"I'm sorry, Master. I see no reason to be rude to people…"

"Honesty is not rude, little one. Truthful words are not beautiful, beautiful words are not truthful, but the end result is always better when true words are heard."

"A man is never more truthful than when he acknowledges himself a liar, Master." His young padawan offered.

"Jedi do not lie, little one."

"Yes, Master." John said, sensing the conversation had reached its end. John trained his eyes on his boots, there was a speck of dust on the toes of his right boot. He brushed them off silently. "Forgive me, Master. I didn't mean to question your teachings."

"Little one, there is a time to trust and a time to question. I encourage you to ask questions, occasionally. You must become your own person after all."

"Master, I don't understand something…why are we given a master if we are encouraged to question them? Aren't masters supposed to be trusted and followed?"

"A person who follows any form of authority blindly is a fool, little one. Never forget that."

"Yes, Master." John meditated quietly on his master's words. "Since it is encouraged to ask questions, may I ask one more sir?"

"I said occasionally." Sherlock said pointedly.

"Yes, Master, and this is an occasion."

"Much sass I sense in you, my overconfident padawan." Sherlock said with a small chuckle.

"You are my guiding light and shining example in the art of sass, Master. Was Master Lestrade nice?" John asked innocently.

"Nice?" Sherlock sighed. "Is there a more educated word you can find in your vocabulary, my under developed apprentice."

John scowled. "Kind? Pleasant? Agreeable? Friendly? Welcoming? Forbearing? Patient?"

"Yes, little one. He was very kind, pleasant, agreeably, forbearing, patient, and friendly. It depended on the mood he was in if he was welcoming or not. My master was a great man, John. That is all you need to know."

"Yes, Master." John reflected on the kind old master, maybe one who had been Sherlock's father figure. Maybe one who taught him how to use a light saber as well as his own wit. Maybe Master Lestrade had been proud of Sherlock, maybe one day Sherlock would feel that pride towards his own padawan. He's thoughts drifted towards his own master and to what some of his caretakers had said when the discovered whose padawan he would be.

"He's a freak! They can't give such a sweet boy to…to him!" Master Donovan had spewed. "John is too young, I thought they did not give children so young to masters for fear of attachment."

"Shush, shush. He was always different, but he was a smart boy. And he cared for his master dearly." Master Gregson had defended him. "I have no idea why the Force guides these two together, but it must be accepted."

"He was never normal though, Master! He was dark! And now they're sending a promising young boy to be at his mercy!"

"Enough." The master said. "You are scaring the child."

"He's gone even more mental since Lestrade passed." Master Anderson mumbled.

John frowned as the thoughts scattered across his mind. Sherlock could feel confusion across his padawan's half of the bond. He reached across the seat and tugged the little boy's hood over his eyes. John gave the smallest half smile. "You are a good man too, Master."

"You have much to learn about good men if you count me as one of them, my little one." Sherlock said with more affection than he would have cared for.

"You are too hard on yourself, Master." John said kindly.

"And you are too innocent for your own good." His master rebuked.

The accused pulled his hood from his head only to have it reshoved over his eyes. "I am only eight, Master."

"So your lack of discipline reminds me every day." Sherlock was slowly beginning to find his good mood once again.

"What is your excuse for it, Master? Surely young age isn't a problem for you."

Sherlock twisted the wheel of the speeder rapidly, causing John to fall out the side. He hit the sand with a pain induced grunt. He rolled until his small body clashed with a familiar brown building. They were home. "I am terribly sorry my little one. My hand seems to have slipped."

"Of course, Master." The boy grumbled in defeat.

The elder smiled, he held out his hand graciously. The little boy took his master's hand, his betrayal forgotten as the padawan was pulled in close for a quick tussle. Sherlock was clearly holding back for the sake of the young one's pride, but John did manage a swift blow to the stomach that released any air trapped in Sherlock's lungs. The tussling came to a stop as a rare rain storm blew over head. John froze as the cold drops splashed down his back.

"Rain, Master?" The awestruck boy asked.

"Yes, it is rare here, but it seems to have graced us with an appearance today." The master opened his palm and felt rain soak into his hand. John had his face tilted back and was basking in the coolness of the water. Sherlock could feel pure joy radiating through the boy without even reaching out through his bond. "You enjoy the water?"

"Yes, Master. The stereotype of my home planet is we learn to swim before we can walk." John splashed in a newly formed puddle. Sherlock marveled at his padawan's youth and the joy the rain brought him.

"Little one." Sherlock muttered as the boy continued to pounce up in down in forming puddles. The master watched his younger dance in the rain until he felt Mycroft angrily pressing on his mind shields. It was long pass time to go inside. "John." He motioned to the door.

The child hesitated, he was torn between obedience and his momentary joy. "Yes, Master." He walked to his master's side slowly. Sherlock rested a hand on the boy's thin shoulders.

"We will have to stop at the swimming holes at Coruscant sometime." Sherlock said softly.

"I wasn't aware of the swimming holes, Master?" The boy allowed Sherlock to guide him indoors.

"Well formally they're called fountains, but my master always preferred to think of them as his own personal pool." He was rewarded with a small giggle.

"My, my, you two took your sweet time." The older master sat cross legged on the chair with a glass of alcohol in his hand.

"The storm held us up, brother." Sherlock said nonchalantly. John frowned, it wasn't really a lie. John had been distracted by the storm. Even when I lie, I tell the truth.

Yes, Master.

"The one that appeared four minutes before you walked in? Forgive me if I doubt you." Mycroft said snidely. "If you two are ready I'd like to view your training methods."

"Master Mycroft, why am I being tested?" The boy asked nervously.

"I am testing your master, youngling. To make sure you are compatible with each other and that you are meeting all your requirements."

"Oh." He looked to Sherlock, who waved him towards his room. He bowed to both his masters without another word and went to get his training gear. Sherlock watched Mycroft closely as the elder Holmes smirked at the padawan.

"He is very polite for a boy being raised by you, my little brother."

Sherlock said nothing, there was nothing to say that wouldn't prove his brother right.

"I do hope you don't ruin him." The elder master said sadly.

"As do I, brother." Sherlock mumbled.

"My dear Sherlock have you grown up in the past week?" Mycroft asked mockingly.

Before the younger Holmes could respond John darted out into the room, training light saber in hand. He looked towards his master nervously. Sherlock ushered the boy down stairs swiftly. "Focus on the here and now, little one. Don't let your nerves get the best of you, it's what he wants."

"I will try, Master."

"There is no try. There is do and do not." Sherlock muttered the little green midget's famous words.

Sherlock shed his robes swiftly. He knew Mycroft was an intolerable distraction to his padawan as John's nervousness radiated through there bond. He steadied the child with a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Do you need to meditate first?"

"No, Master. Sparring will do me good." John said determinedly.

"Very well then." Sherlock pulled his light saber from his belt dramatically and activated it, a light green blade sprang out. "Unguard!"

"Thanks for the warning." John mumbled, raising his own light saber.

The two started slowly, with simple parrying. Sherlock set the pace to which John danced to. Sherlock allowed his mind shields to drop ever so slightly to see if the boy noticed. John began countering his attacks more often, proving that he had felt the gracious gift his master presented him with.

"You are not pushing him enough." Mycroft said shortly.

"It is a warm up." Sherlock responded in kind.

"Master we can start the lesson properly if you'd like." John already sounded slightly winded to the older man, but the boy needed to learn his limits.

"Are you ready, little one?"

"Yes, Master."

The pace increased immensely, John could barely deflect his master's blows let alone attack. He danced around the older man, not daring to stand in only one place. Sweat pour into his eyes as his hair plastered to his forehead. Across their bond Sherlock could feel John's endurance slip. Immediately he slowed down, John backed away gratefully. "Breathe, John."

"Yes, Master."

"Find your second wind."

"Yes, Master."

"Focus."

"Yes, Master."

The pace increased again. John felt sparks from the clashing sabers fall on his neck. He flinched, allowing his master's saber to catch his arm. He screamed loudly. Sherlock deactivated the light saber, he did not run to the boy's aid, instead he sent soft, soothing waves across their bond. John rose back to his feet shakily.

"Do you need rest?" The master asked without sympathy.

"No." The boy said stubbornly.

"You understand you would have lost your arm."

"I do."

"Tell me what you did wrong."

"I allowed my body to feel pain at an inconvenient time. I did not focus, Master. I'm sorry." John bowed his head.

"Do not apologize to me, my arm doesn't feel the sting of the light saber." His master scolded.

"Yes, Master." The head dropped lower.

"Raise your light saber." Sherlock challenged.

"I…" John's arm refused to obey him. "I can't Master…"

"When I asked you if you needed a rest you should have accepted. Pride is not a tolerable trait in a Jedi, John." He reached forward before the boy could object and grabbed his arm. He ran his finger over the wound slowly. "I thought you could heal yourself, little one."

"The worse the wound, the harder it is to heal, Master." John sniffed so quietly Sherlock almost missed it. His free hand maneuvered the boy's chin upward. Blue eyes met blue eyes, Sherlock frowned at the tears. "I will not cry." John mumbled.

"Little one."

"Not in front of Mycroft."

"Little one."

"I won't, Master."

"My little one." Sherlock wiped the boy's tears away with the pad of his thumb. John stuck out a stiff upper lip, but the tears continued to fall. "Go rest, John. I am not angry with you. We will continue this when your arm is healed. No regrets, you learned a lesson today."

"Yes, Master." The child sniffed. He dragged himself quite sadly up the stairs to his room. Sherlock watched him go without a movement towards the boy, though it secretly killed him.

"His light saber skills have improved, but he is still below average." Mycroft said pointedly.

"For a normal age apprentice he below average, but for an eight year old his skill is advanced." Sherlock defended John shortly.

"You have grown attached to the boy." Mycroft strode closer to his younger brother.

"Leave me be, Mycroft." Sherlock's voice came out with the power of the force. Mycroft cringed.

"It won't work, Sherlock. Not even your gift will persuade a Jedi master." Mycroft gripped his shoulder almost painfully. "And you must learn to use it responsibly."

"If you are done trying to be Lestrade I ask you to leave me be." Sherlock shrugged off the older man's grip. He turned on his heel and stalked towards the staircase, when he nearly crashed into John.

"Master! Mako is…" The tear stained face was too much to bare, Sherlock was forced to lift the boy into his arms. John sat in the crook of Sherlock's arm and rubbed his eyes briskly with his good arm. "My bear is gone…"

Sherlock glared down at Mycroft, who had the very nerve to shrug. Sherlock held onto to John's side and rubbed it soothingly. "Wait for me in your room." His voice was cold, but not towards John. "I will bring your bear back, please John. Go wait."

"I want to stay with you." The boy at last sounded his true age. He rested his forehead against his master's. "Please. Until Mako's back."

"You don't need me to feel comfort, little one. Feel the force, it will…" Fresh tears dropped onto Sherlock's cheek, they weren't his. John's shoulders slumped as prepared to be left by his master to fend for himself without his bear. Sherlock gave him a small squeeze. "Wait on the couch, I'm right here." He set the boy down on a resting sofa at the edge of the training center. With a disapproving sigh he turned back to Mycroft.

"My padawan seems to have lost something, Mycroft. Have you seen it?" Sherlock strolled over to the older man gracefully.

"How could your padawan lose something, dear brother? Jedi are not allowed personal items."

"I hardly think my padawan's teddy bear will cause him to turn to the Dark Side. Mycroft, just give it back to him." Sherlock said, both men were beginning to circle each other.

"I told you, that mind trick wouldn't work on me." The older man snarled.

"It was a request, Mycroft." Sherlock said with a bored tone. "I wasn't trying to suggest anything other than the return of my padawan's bear."

"Are you accusing me of theft, my brother?"

"If the boot fits." Sherlock said smartly.

The older Holmes sneered. "You seemed too infected with attachment towards your padawan to discipline him, I took the necessary steps for you."

"Mycroft, he's only eight." Sherlock drew his light saber, mirroring his brother's movements. Both light sabers were set to the lowest setting, it was not a violent duel. Just aggressive negations with a light saber over an eight year old's bear. John's eyes were wide.

"Best me and I will happily return the bear." Mycroft sneered. "I am beginning to fear your light saber skills have dwindled since you left the temple."

"Let me calm your fears." The younger man made a low swing at his brother's shins, Mycroft leapt of his head with ease. The two man clashed sabers. John had never seen anyone move so fast in his life. Blurs of blue and green light sabers were all he could see, hisses of the blade and snide remarks from his master were all he could hear.

"If you didn't cling to your master's old saber and used your own, your skill would increase." Mycroft was saying loudly over the hissing blades. A deadly arch of green nearly clipped his ear. "Do be careful, little brother."

The duel continued, John held his breathe as Sherlock jumped around Mycroft in a green blur. Both men seemed to come to a stale mate as their light sabers were held in place by the others, John was in awe. He was completely distracted until he felt a small tug at his belt and realized his training saber was flying into Mycroft's open hand.

"Master!" The boy called.

Sherlock heard him in time to catch the training blade with his bare hand. The hiss of flesh meeting saber made John's skin crawl. Sherlock barely cringed, his icy gaze stared deep into Mycroft's.

"The bear, Mycroft." Sherlock's voice was full of commandment and authority.

"Mind suggestions won't work on me, Sherlock." The older man twisted the blade deeper into Sherlock hand. Pain was beginning to register across his face.

"It's not a suggestion, Mycroft." Sherlock voice became slightly warmer, more inviting to John. He pushed his light saber further against Mycroft's. "He's only eight, there is no harm. The bear, please." Sherlock's voice was luring John in close to him. It was all he could to keep himself planted and not run to the source of the glorious voice. Mycroft's face began to soften.

"Yield, Sherlock."

"Not without the bear." The smell of burning flesh hung in the air. Sherlock released the training saber, but as the blade collided with his leg Sherlock managed to twist his saber away from Mycroft's. He pressed it closely to his throat. "The bear." He insisted.

"Oh my brother, you are so attached to this boy you are willing to fight me for his prized bear."

"I don't need an excuse to fight you, Mycroft. The bear."

Mycroft nodded towards several packages set in the corner. "Top left."

Sherlock deactivated the saber, his body was strained but Mycroft looked worse for wear. He twisted his gaze towards the padawan. "Go." He dipped his head towards the boxes. John obeyed his master swiftly, he ruffled through the boxes and pulled his bear close to his chest.

Go to your room, little one.

Yes, Master. Thank you.

We're not done yet, I doubt Mycroft will allow this offense without an agonizing lecture.

The boy turned to leave, his bear pressed against cheek. Sherlock smiled inwardly at the boy's renewed strength, even his arm seemed slightly more healed.

Sherlock felt a slight pressure against his mind shields that wasn't from John. Mycroft began probing him viciously. Sherlock shifted his gaze towards the interfering master angrily. "If there is a question you would like to ask Mycroft I request you voice it."

"Tell your padawan to stay here." Mycroft ordered. "I am not finished with his evaluation."

"Finish it when his arm has healed." The younger man waved him off. "I promised him rest until his arm has fixed itself."

"You must harden your heart my brother. He will never achieve strength if you pamper him." Mycroft reprimanded him.

"Mycroft, he is only eight." Sherlock scowled.

"John, stay here please." Mycroft commanded.

John looked towards his master and frowned as his master worried at his lip. "Go to your room, John." Sherlock was equally commanding, and he had loyalty on his side. John took a step towards the stairs.

"John you will stay here. Sherlock may be your master, but I out rank him." Mycroft pointed to place in front of him. His foot was tapping impatiently.

"John, your room. Wait for me." His master's voice was softer this time.

John looked pleadingly at the eldest master. "Please sir, he's my master."

"John, come here."

"He's my master." The boy shook his head while backing away. He was trembling with fear that Mycroft would fail his evaluation and he would be taken away from his master. "I'm sorry, sir." He darted up the stairs quickly.

"You don't deserve him." Mycroft said as soon as the boy was out of ear shot. "I should fail this evaluation now and have him transferred to a more suited master."

"Do as the force guides you, my brother." Sherlock muttered as he shoved pass the older Holmes. Mycroft sighed as his younger stomped up the stairs in a most un-Jedi way. He pulled out his comlink and called the council.

"My masters, Sherlock and his padawan have passed level one. I advocate they advance to the second level of evaluation."