"Johnny!"

"Son of a Sith." The child muttered. "Hello Ms. Adler."

"Sherlock, sweetie, how naughty of you to bring your son here." She winked at the curly haired knight. Her shirt was cut so low John could look at his feet and still see her skin. His face flushed a deep scarlet. He took a step back so his back was pressed into Sherlock's leg. He glared upward at the woman, who was staring at Sherlock like he was a display in a Jedi archive.

"He's not my dad." John snapped.

Sherlock rested a steading hand on the boy's shoulder. "He isn't my son, Irene. Look at the irises and ears, genetic traits we don't share."

"Well it still wasn't very nice to bring a little boy to my parlor. Now we can't "talk"."

"There is nothing I came here to discuss that the boy can't hear."

"Poo." The woman whined. She sat in a throne looking chair and crossed her long legs. She pulled off her heels that looked suspiciously like knives at the bottom. The boy stiffened.

"Little one." Sherlock said firmly. "Irene I need what you owe me." He covered the boy's ears, but a muffled crystal through the thin hands. "Now."

"I owe you nothing, darling. You haven't finished my payment yet." Irene batted her eyes, and John cringed at the way she said "payment". She exited the room gracefully, he hips bobbed seductively behind her. Sherlock huffed loudly.

John took a gamble, he was supposed to be acting like a simple eight year old anyway. He buried his face in Sherlock's leg.

He wanted to leave now.

He felt his master's disapproval through their bond, but chose to ignore it. He gripped the loose pants in both hands and pulled the fabric around his face. His master gently pulled on the spiked hair, forcing John to look at him. He raised his eyebrows.

I'm just playing the part of Johnny, Master. As you suggested.

You are mincing words with me again.

I am obeying your orders Master.

Sherlock gave a small tug on the boy's hair. The child giggled, he pressed his face back against the strong leg. Sherlock shook his head, but ran his hand through the small child's hair. He gave his padawan's ear a gentle tug. "You really don't like it here?" He muttered.

"It gives me a bad feeling, that's all, Mas…Sherlock." He pressed himself deeper into his master's side. The older man lifted the small child into his arms.

"A wise man faces his discomforts head on. You are doing well, little one." Sherlock set him down as Irene reentered, his master was not a man to show affection in public, which made it more special whenever John was given warmth. Irene was holding out a blood red crystal. Sherlock held out his hand with a small scowl.

Irene held it above her head. "Ah ah ah. My payment?"

"I am on my way to get, if you'd be so kind as to give me proper information this time it's all yours." Sherlock open and closed his finger. The blood crystal was passed between the two adults, Sherlock dropped it in a small pouch. He pushed John towards the door when the woman reached out and snatched the knight's wrist.

"If you ever want to come back without the kid, I would be willing to take something other than republic credits."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Republic credits will do fine."

She smirked at him and to John's surprise she touched his chest. Sherlock gave John a gently shove towards the exit. "Go." John shook his head fiercely, he hid behind the older man's leg. "John." Sherlock snapped.

"No." John said childishly.

"Outside."

"No."

"Johnny…" Irene knelt in front of the boy, her shirt fell even farther down her chest. "The adults want to talk."

"No!" He grabbed Sherlock's hand and tugged him towards the door. "Please, you got what you wanted. Please don't leave me alone in the middle of Tatooine, unarmed and unattended. I'm scared, Uncle!"

Padawan, this is a direct order. Wait for me outside.

Jedi aren't allowed to…

Enough. You've disrespected me enough by not accepting my orders, I will not tolerate your blatant disrespect by assuming I will break the code's orders. Outside, now.

John whimpered. "Please, Sherlock."

"Now." His voice was deadly.

"Yes, sir." The boy shuffled out sadly.

"He's a good boy." Irene purred as she draped herself around the tall knight. Sherlock was nodding as he watched John make his way down the stairs. He gently separated himself from the harlot. He put his hand out demandingly.

"The real one."

She slid him a seductive glare. "I don't know what…"

"Skin cannot touch the blood crystals. The real one."

"Say please."

"Irene."

She pulled out a small pouch that glowed a dark red. Slowly she tied it to his belt, she slipped him a sly smile. "Your son is waiting for you."

"He's not my son." Sherlock stalked towards the door swiftly. "And his name is John!"

oOo

They sat in awkward silence for what felt like hours.

Sherlock kept his eyes trained a head, his knuckles were white on the wheel. John sat with his hands deep in his lap, tears were threatening to fall from his eyes. He gave a small sniffle. His master ignored him. John bowed his head, his confidence was shattered. He deserved everything his master was giving him.

"Here, youngling." Sherlock dropped the light saber into the boy's lap. John bristled at the insulting word, but accepted the abuse. He gave a small thanks and clipped it to his belt. He reached to the floor and picked up his bear.

"John, what were you thinking?" Sherlock demanded.

He buried his face in Mako's fur. "I don't know, Master."

"Clearly you do know. Do you want to add further insult, padawan?" Sherlock was attacking his apprentice viscously.

"Master…I don't…"

"John."

"I thought she'd turn you in to the Dark Acolyte!" He shouted viscously.

"Don't be ridiculous. Why would Irene…"

"Because that's where she got the crystal from, she's one of your informants! Please, if you don't want me to insult your intelligence don't insult mine!"

"Enough, little one!" Sherlock proved he could raise his voice as well.

"What if something happens to you, Master?!" The boy cried.

"You will be taken care of, John. Keep your mind on the pre..."

"I don't care about myself!" The boy's tears were bitter. "Master, please don't think me selfish and please forgive my outburst, but I worry…"

The speeder came to a sudden halt. The master looked at the apprentice wearily. "The elder protects the young, John. You know this. And I do it willingly, I cannot protect you if you are constantly trying to protect me. It will not work. It cannot work. You must let go of this emotion."

The boy's eyes were full of tears. "I don't want to."

Sherlock stared at his little reflection. Lestrade had argued with him until the older man's everlasting patience finally gave out. He could not shake Sherlock's attachment, maybe he hadn't wanted to. The shouting match had ended with Sherlock hiding on the roof angrily. Lestrade had found him three days later, starving, tired, dehydrated, and ill. He had to wrap Sherlock in his robe and carry the twelve year off the roof. Sherlock glanced at John, he didn't want the boy to feel the same pain he felt when Lestrade had at last shouted at him.

"Come here." Sherlock motioned for the boy to sit with him. John crawled into his lap and laid his head on the older man's chest. "Promise me you will stop this nonsense." He said quietly.

"I don't want to lose anyone." John choked.

"You won't, John. You must trust me to protect myself. I will protect you as well, if you stop annoying me so much." The elder teased. John nuzzled deep into his chest, he wrapped his hand in his master's outer tunic. Sherlock accelerated the speeder with John balanced on his chest, the boy calmed himself by clinging to his master and his bear.

The sand people gave them no grief, John fell asleep within five minutes of their argument, he hadn't been able to sleep for weeks with nightmares. The boy took deep soothing breaths, Sherlock marveled at the little figure. How could anything that small make such a difference in him. He felt a pang of regret as he shook the sleeping child awake. John's blue eyes blinked rapidly.

Sherlock pulled the bags from the back and gave John his pack. The padawan took it gratefully, he placed his bear in it silently. Sherlock slung his duffel over his shoulders, he ran a hand over his face tiredly. He was glad for a four hour flight, he decided it would be wise to obey his padawan for once and sleep.

"Master…" John piped up. "Am I forgiven?"

Sherlock carded his hand through John's soft hair. "There is nothing to forgive, padawan."

"I was disrespectful! There is everything to forgive. I'm sorry. Oof!" John's eyes were covered by the course material of his hood.

John pulled the hood away from his eyes, but the frown was gone. His grin lit up his whole face, Sherlock smiled back. "If it makes you feel better little one, you were forgiven the moment the deed was over."

"Thank you." The boy tugged on Sherlock's sleeve until the older man knelt. Quite against the Jedi code the boy wrapped his thin arms around the knight's neck. Sherlock faltered, the boy's grasp tightened. Sherlock wrapped his arm around the boy's middle and hoisted him into the air.

"Be mindful of your feelings, little one. This much loyalty is a dangerous thing." Sherlock pressed his forehead against John's.

"I know, Master. You've said it before."

"And it hasn't changed your mind."

"No, Master."

"Stubborn."

"Your padawan."

Sherlock rubbed the tiny boy's back in slow soothing circles. "I am ruining you, aren't I?"

"No, Master!"

"Yes, Padawan!" Sherlock cried with the same appealed tone.

John put his hands on Sherlock's shoulders. "No, Master. No. No. No."

Sherlock sat the child down with his hand rested on his apprentice's head. He tugged his long fingers through the blond hair until it stood up at odd angles. John led the knight into the hangar bay giggling fiercely. They loaded themselves into a decent sized shuttle that thankfully had two beds. Sherlock rolled into the bottom bunk after a quick word with the pilot.

John wormed his way into the top bunk. Sherlock used the force to pass him up his bear, John gave a small "thank you" as the bear landed on his chest.

"What did you ask the pilot, Master?"

"For a small detour, little one."

"Why?"

"Because I'm sorry too."

oOo

John was dreaming again.

"You promised me you would stay out of it, Sherlock." A grey haired man was forcing a young boy to sit on a couch in the middle of a Jedi quarters. The older man was pulling out a med kit.

"He was gonna wallop you!" The curly haired boy protested. He had a bloody gash from his eye to his nose, his eyes were bright with anger. His silver haired master dabbed at it with bacta ointment "I told you to duck, Master. I told you exactly what was gonna happen, but you weren't listening. I said, I said he was going throw a punch, and he threw a punch."

"Shut up, Sherlock. Force's sake, look at you. If I take you to the healers they'll be convinced I abuse you. What on Yoda's green Naboo possessed you to jump in front of an armed guard?"

"You weren't listening to me! He was going to…"

"Padawan." The older man snapped. For once the apprentice fell silent, his hands rested in his lap, it was the boy's nervous twitch. He scowled at his thin hands.

"I didn't want him to hit you." The boy mumbled.

"That doesn't give you cause to shield me, kid." Lestrade dabbed at the cut more gently. Sherlock still flinched under the gentle pressure.

"You weren't listening." He sniffed. "I was right, but you wouldn't listen."

"No, I was giving him the benefit of the doubt." The master spoke with earned wisdom.

"But clearly he was going to swing! Couldn't you see it, Master?"

"Sherlock, it is not your place to protect me. Remember this." He bandaged the cut carefully. "If someone is going to hit me let me suffer for my insolence. Do not take the shot for me."

"But…"

"No, Sherlock. The elder protects the younger, last I checked you were the younger." The master placed a tender hand on Sherlock's head.

"What if he had walloped you in the temple?" Sherlock demanded, holding the hand a few inches above his head. "What if you had died, Master?"

"I have made arrangements for you if something happens to me." Lestrade put pressure on the two hands hold his up. His larger hand met black curls once again. "You would not go back, Sherlock."

"You insult me by thinking my fear is for myself." The boy said crossly.

"You've insulted me already, by assuming I can't take a punch from a man who hits like a youngling."

Sherlock bowed his head, clearly swallowing anger. "Forgive me, Master. I thought you shared my attachment."

"You know I do." The master assured gently. "That is why we are having this argument, kiddo. I can't stand to see you hurt because of a punch intended for me."

"If you had listened to me we wouldn't be arguing."

"Sherlock…" The patience was starting to break.

"It's the truth!"

"What would you have had me done, padawan? Duck without cause in front of the queen of Naboo, punch him first, did it occur to you that I was waiting him out, Sherlock!?" The master at last raised his voice.

"You didn't tell me." The boy said bitterly.

"I made the mistake of thinking you trusted me." Lestrade muttered cruelly. He rose silently. "I have much to learn." He left the room without another word.

Sherlock watched him go, every fiber of his being but his pride wanted to call his master back and beg forgiveness. He knew what it was like to be hit, it was awful. He just didn't want Lestrade to be hit.

He pulled his head between his knees and took a shaking breath in. He swore over and over in his mind until he convulsed on the floor. He left the vomit in the middle of his master's quarters and did what he did best.

He hid.

Because he couldn't do anything else right.

It took two hours before the probing of his mind shield began. Lestrade was looking for him, he thickened his mind shields and cried silently.

Because he was a freak.

Because he was dark.

Because if he really loved his master he'd pitch himself off the roof and let older man get a proper padawan.

He mediated for three days. Jumping was not the Jedi way, but he was so conflicted he just wanted to scream. He was only twelve, he shouldn't feel that alone, unless he was dark.

He was dark.

Oh Force, he was dark.

Sherlock sobbed harder. His body shook, but no tears came out of his dehydrated body.

Warmth spread over his shoulders unexpectedly. He felt himself being scooped into the air and bundled in a familiar smelling robe. He turned his head into his master's chest. "Forgive me, Master."

"Shhh." Lestrade's voice was firm. "You were forgiven the minute the deed was over."

"You should have left me in that cell." The boy cried.

"I would have rather died a thousand deaths." He said steadily. He pulled the boy to his chest. "Sherlock, I was so worried about you. You shouldn't have shielded from me."

"I'm sorry." He hiccupped.

"Shut up, I wasn't looking for an apology. You know I wasn't. I wanted you to know I was worried about you, Sherlock. I share your damn attachment, please don't accuse me of not again."

"Why? I'm dark." He pressed his forehead into the strong bicep.

"You are the furthest thing from dark." Lestrade laid the boy in his bunk. "Stay." He ordered. Sherlock curled into a ball and waited obediently. His master came back with a water glass and commanded him to drink. He sat up slowly, Lestrade pressed the cup to his lips.

"I'm dark." The boy said again.

"Why?" The master made him take another sip.

"You know why." He snapped.

"Enlighten me." He set the glass aside. He pulled the thin boy against his chest and made him lie still. "Do you want to be dark?"

"No." The young sob came swiftly. "But Master…"

"Then focus on everything you consider dark about yourself and improve upon them." Lestrade murmured into his hair. "I told you this before my padawan, a man who chooses dark can chose light again."

"If he is not fully dark already."

"Oh, my little one, you are far from fully dark. You are the light, my light, Qui Gon's light, Tahl's light, Yoda's light, and John's light."

"Who is John, Master?" Sherlock yawned.

"We will find, little one. We will find out."