He waited until the sun was setting over Coruscant.
John sat with his feet draped over the balcony, he swung them back and forth childishly. His dirty bare feet stretched their toes happily. Sherlock had sent him back to his afternoon classes, John had come back in the late afternoon. He was completely exhausted. The boy was used to having at least an hour nap a day, today he had barely eaten lunch let alone slept.
Sherlock leaned against the doorway observing the boy. His blond hair was blowing in the breeze, he giggled as a leaf blew across his face. The young poster boy for innocence. The child bit into a fresher, a fruit native to Tatooine that had become an instant favorite. He turned to his master. "Master Anderson tried to do a flip with his light saber today, but he forgot to take his robe off." The little boy giggled. "It was an embarrassment for him, but it was hilarious for us."
Sherlock smiled. He should have chided the boy for his amusement, but it was a special occasion. He let the child giggle. The knight slid next to the boy, John leaned into the older man's side and tossed the fruit's core over the edge. The breeze blew Sherlock's dark curls from his face. The suns set over the horizon, sending oranges and purples colliding in the sky. Sherlock pulled the boy's ear affectionately.
"Little one, would you like to hear a story?" He scratched the back of the boy's neck lightly.
"That seems a little odd for you, Master." The boy said truthfully. "You have never told me a story before."
"Then you don't want to hear it?" Sherlock started to raise, the boy snatched the elder's sleeve.
"I didn't say that, Master. I was just pointing out the oddity." He tilted his head sideways. "What is the story about?"
"Me." Sherlock said quietly. "The day I met my master."
"I wouldn't say no to that story." The child said softly. "I've wondered…I would never ask you to tell me though, Master. If you don't want to…"
"I don't." The master said stubbornly. "But you have a right to know what kind of man you are learning from."
John rose slowly, brushing off his pants. He pushed his master's shoulder warmly, the master leaned away from his apprentice with the force of the push. He pulled John into his lap swiftly, causing the child to giggle. They tussled until John was pinned under long limbs. The boy wagged his tongue at his elder.
"Yield, my little one."
"Never! Get off me ya old goat!"
"Young one!" Sherlock added pressure to John's midsection. The boy grimaced as his stomach began to cave inward.
"Master! I yield! Please!" John gasped. His elder rolled off of him with a small chuckle, the boy lay on his back panting. "I already know what kind of man teaches me. A shameful cheater."
"Shameful? I am not shameful!" The master protested loudly.
John crawled onto his master's chest and lay sprawled across it. Sherlock sighed with contentment. He ran his hand through John's soft hair. John returned his sigh. The master picked the small form up and gathered him to his chest.
It was time for bed.
John yawned as he was carried into his room, he wondered if Sherlock would stay with him the whole night. He wasn't scared of the dark or anything, definitely not, but he secretly adored it when Sherlock stayed with him. Sherlock laid John on the large bed and crawled in besides him. The tiny child curled into a ball in his side.
"Are you going to tell me the story, Master?" The boy was hardly able to stay awake. He did not wish to be disrespect his teacher by sleeping through the story.
"I will do better than that, padawan. I will show you." He placed a soft hand over John's forehead. "John, please…please understand…the past is better left in the past, but you have a right to know about mine because of our relationship. However…try to be open minded. For me. Please."
John opened his mouth to reply, but was silenced as sleep washed over his mind. Sherlock sighed as the boy's rolled back into his head. He would not have a pleasant sleep, and Sherlock would not sleep at all.
oOo
"This is outrageous, Qui!"
"My friend if you had obeyed Master Yoda and stayed on the front lines…"
"We never would have discovered the base in time. Don't lecture me about following orders Qui Gon Jinn. A man who follows any form of authority blindly is a fool. The council has a funny of showing its thanks." The silver haired knight walked on his hands in a lazy fashion. The council had reward him with the cleaning up of the prisoners that were brought back.
"That quote only works if you obey any authority, my young friend. And you find the base quite by accident if I remember correctly." Qui Gon lightly kicked the other man in the buttocks, sending him tumbling forward. "You've had obedience problems since we were children, Greg."
"Obedience, not my division." Greg lay on his back indifferently.
"A padawan would fix that. Xanthos has taught me many things…"
"Qui…no. The future Jedi order will flourish much swifter if I am not the one teaching it." Greg rolled on to his stomach and using the force propelled himself back to his feet. He brushed himself off and took his robe back from his friend. Walking on one's hands proved difficult with a robe billowing around.
"The council has expressed desire for you to have one, soon they will simply thrust one upon you." The continued walking side by side down the prison corridor. Greg scratched the back of his head unconvinced.
"We will not bond." He shrugged.
They stopped in front of the first door, Qui Gon handed him the medical kit. He bowed to his friend mockingly. "May your reward for insolence teach you much patience, my young friend."
Greg bowed in return. "And may your padawan teach you many things, such as grooming my long haired companion."
The elder knight walked away with a small smirk on his face. The younger ran his hand through his silver hair in exhaustion. "Let's get this over with." He shoulder the first door open.
They had attacked a Dark base, a base that was supposed to hold a Sith lord, but in reality held children. Dark Acolytes in training, nothing more. But they were closer to discovering the alleged Sith Lord's whereabouts. There was even a rumor they had captured the Sith's padawan learner.
The first prisoner tried to stab his eye out with a plastic fork. Greg stumbled out angrily, he'd have to petition prisoners be served finger foods from then on. The fourteen year old had wild red eyes and was practically foaming at the mouth. The second child was a sixteen year old girl, also with red eyes. She ranted and raved as he tried to clean her up. She kept informing him that the dark would rise again. Greg pinned her already shackled hands under his knee and dabbed at a long cut on her arm with bacta ointment before getting the Force out of there.
The next three teens also had red eyes, all raved about the dark rising again. Greg barely made it out of the cells with all his limbs in tack. For the life of him he couldn't figure out why the teens' eyes were red. He needed to contact Tahl, she would need to examine them all. He limped along to the final cell, the Force was blocked off from the inside of the chamber. Greg rubbed his bruising leg. This must be the Sith's apprentice.
Greg nodded at the guard as he sat down for a brief breather. Anderson had been put on duty, Donavan's nearly unbearable padawan. The young learner opened his mouth to speak, but was silenced by a wave of the hand. The knight was in no mood for any griping.
"You're not allowed to go in there." The learner said after a short while. Greg held up his medical bag in response. The learner still shook his head violently. "No, Master. He's dangerous. This is the Sith's padawan."
"Is he not shackled?" The knight asked wearily. "Is he not cut off from the Force? Do you think I can't handle myself against an unarmed teenager, young one?"
"Master, my orders come from…"
"Boring. Move." He waved the young learner aside. The teen did not move. "Anderson move." He snarled.
At last the boy moved away, Greg entered the cell. He braced for the immediate rant that often followed his entrance, but none came. He glanced around for the red eyed teen, but saw only a small boy bundled in the corner of the cell. He wasn't wearing a shirt, which revealed a malnourished body and scars that ran all over his back. His wrists were shackled to a connecting chain that was also attached to his thin ankles. There was a mat of dark hair that stuck out from between his knees, the faint sound of reed pipes could be heard. Greg felt sick.
He set the medical kit down loudly, alerting the small figure to his presence. He sat down slowly. The beautiful reed pipe sound ceased and a low snarl came out of the small bundle. "If you come any closer…I will bite you. I mean it. You're already limping, I can take you."
Greg nearly laughed. "Shut up, kid. I'm not here to hurt you." He scooted closer to the boy. "How did you know I was limping?"
"I could hear you come in, hundark. Plus you were really quick to sit down." The tiny boy raised his head. Greg wavered as he saw bright ice blue eyes instead of red. His heart skipped several beats as he noted the tear trails that ran down his cheeks and a large fresh gash across his forehead.
"Hundark? Ouch. How old are you, kid? You seem younger than the others." Greg kept his voice neutral, the kid would most likely lose interest if he was overly kind. He began pulling out medical supplies, the child was holding his wrist at an odd angle.
"None of your damn…"
"Oh for the love of Force, shut up if you don't want to talk. You have the right to be silent you know?" Greg saw the boy's face drop.
Wait to live up to the term hundark, Greggy.
"What kind of interrogator tells their victim to shut up? No wonder you haven't made the rank of master yet, silver haired hundark." The child was clever.
"I was born with silver hair, despicable one." Greg chuckled. "I am only thirty-one." He showed the boy the bandages. "If I unlock your wrists will you hit me in the nose?"
"Probably."
"At least you are honest." Greg knelt in front of the child slowly, allowing him to keep tabs on the older man's hands at all times. He clicked the key and released the boy from his binds, he scooted back to his bag. "Thank you for not knocking my head off." He said kindly.
The boy scowled and held his left wrist, Greg noticed the child quickly tucking the reed pipes at his side. "You are not interesting enough to hit."
"Oh no?" The knight huffed indignantly. "I bet you twenty Republic credits I can get you to let me clean your head wound with this thumb." Greg held up his right thumb temptingly. "I love me a good gamble. What do you say, kid?"
The boy tilted his head curiously. "That's illogical."
Greg scooted forward, medical bag in hand. "Then you've got nothing to lose." The boy gave him a skeptical look that Greg interpreted as fear. The kid didn't look older than nine. "First tell me how old you are. I already told you my age, fair trade and all."
The boy scowled. "I'm ten."
"Ten? Force that's old. Pretty soon you'll have hair like mine." He shook his short hair. The child seemed dangerously close to smiling. Greg's heart softened. "Think you could just let me clean that instead of making me force you?" He pointed at the head wound cautiously.
"You just don't want to lose the bet." The boy said shortly.
The silver haired man frowned. "Alright, I'll prove it first." He sighed. He pressed his thumb under the child's jawline with slight pressure until the boy was pinned against the wall. "Try to move."
The boy wiggled uncomfortably, but couldn't twist out of his grasp without pain shooting down his neck. To the child's own great horror he whimpered. Greg released him immediately. "Kid?"
"You've proven your point." The child said coldly.
Greg gaped at the hurt child. How could a little boy sound like he had years of hatred behind him? He dabbed at the child's forehead silently, how could he get that almost smile back? The little boy squirmed as the medicine was applied gently. "Would you like to try it?"
The child gave him a stunned look.
"The move I mean. Want to give it a shot, Curly?" He stopped applying medicine and looked into the child's confused blue eyes. Slowly, ever so slowly, he nodded. "Come 'ere. Hold out your legs, that's it." Greg freed the boy's legs and sat back on his hunches. "Alright ready?"
The kid held out his right thumb unsurely. Greg very gently took the boy's thumb and guided it under his jawline. "Alright light pressure, if you put on too much I'll just turn my head and get away." The boy obeyed him until Greg's cheek was pressed deep into the wall. He grinned down at the boy. "See."
He expected the child to keep him pinned there for a while longer and was happily surprised when he was released. He smiled at the boy encouragingly. The boy looked down at his feet and set his jaw, he held his left wrist firmly in his right hand. It clearly pained him. "Um…could you …" He held out his wrist towards the other man.
"Course." The knight shuffled towards the child and knelt before him. He held out his large hand, the child hesitantly put his thin arm in the elder's palm. Greg marveled at the child's slight form, too short, too thin. The Jedi pulled his robe from around his shoulders and laid it on the child's small form. The boy faltered.
"You're kind?" The boy wrapped the robe tighter around him with his good arm.
"I try." Greg wrapped the kid's arm in strong bandages. "I try to teach compassion as well as feel it."
"Even for Siths." The boy whimpered.
"Curly…you don't seem dark to me. Any man who has chosen dark, can choose light again if he is not fully dark."
"I am though. I am dark. The Sith's only padawan."
"Young one, in here the force does not exist. Dark and light are not present here. There is a man and a child. And the elder always protects the younger." He finished with the boy's arm. "When you walk out of this cell you can choose to accept dark once more, or you can come into the light." He pulled out a small packet of water from the medical pack. "Drink."
The boy obeyed him silently. He guzzled the packet in seconds, he passed the empty sack back. "Can I have more?"
He passed the boy another packet. "Slower this time, kid. Are those your pipes?"
The boy sat across from the master and nodded slowly. "Yes…I don't think you were supposed to give me water…" The boy confessed softly. "I think they wanted to keep me weak so I couldn't escape."
"Why do you say that?" The elder asked in surprise.
"I've been here two days, and they haven't given me anything since I got here." He mumbled. For the first time Greg noticed how dry the boy's lips were. His stomach clenched. How could the order have done this to a little boy?
"It's not the order." The boy read his expression. "It was the guards." He held his wrist in pain and flinched.
"Young one…who broke your arm?" The elder asked gently.
"It happened on the battle…"
"Don't lie, kid. Jedi don't lie."
"The lady guard." He said at last. "She called me a son of a Sith whore." The kid at last sounded his true age as he sniffled fiercely. Greg wiped away the child's tears with a rag. Rage was spreading through his heart. He passed the child another water packet. The boy sniffed slightly. "My name is Sherlock by the way."
"Sherlock." Greg pondered. "That's interesting."
"My master wanted me to change it, but…" He looked at the Jedi imploringly.
"Your master is a fool for wanting to change a unique name." The elder scowled. He looked at the cell's door angrily. "Sherlock, tell me truthfully son, did you want to be the Sith's padawan?"
"Why?" The boy demanded.
"Tell me." The response was firm.
"No." The child said coldly. "I didn't want those crystals to touch me, so I lied and told him I was dark already. He made me prove it…but I couldn't…I couldn't…you saw the others, how they reacted."
"How did you prove it, curly one?"
The boy shook his head viciously. "No."
"No, what?"
"Don't ask, 'cause I won't answer." The child snarled. "I couldn't…the crystal makes you think things, Master. Terrible things, it takes away my mind, and I can't think straight. All I could think about was hatred and evil…He made me hold it because I wouldn't hurt the others…"
"Sherlock, Sherlock." The master laid calming hands on Sherlock's thin shoulders. He didn't dare meditate on the way the boy called him "master". "Breathe deeply, okay?"
The child took deep, shaky breaths in.
"You need to relax. I am proud of you for telling me the truth, Curly. I needed to hear that you were not dark before I could help you."
"Weren't you listening?!" The child shrieked. "I told you I was dark, idiot!"
Greg pulled Sherlock against his chest gently. The boy was entirely taken off guard as Greg wrapped him in the robe. "Stay completely still, understand? I will get your pipes."
"Yes." The child murmured. "This is against your rules, is it not?"
"Dull." The Jedi smiled at the child. He lifted the child bridal style, Sherlock laid limp in the tall man's arms. The young knight bent over the child's corner and was disgusted as the smell of feces and urine hit his nose. He passed Sherlock his reed pipes and gave him a warm smile before moving fluidly to the exit.
Greg pounded on the door wildly. "The kid's sick! I need to take him to medical bay! Help! He's barely breathing!"
"I thought Jedi didn't lie?" The breathy response came from the bundle.
"You are sick are you not? And if you hold your breath a little I wouldn't be lying." Greg winked. The door opened a fraction of an inch. "Let me out, moron! Unless you want the boy to die before he's been properly questioned!" Greg slammed his shoulder into the door, sending the poor learner flying. He looked at the fallen form as Anderson struck the wall. "Whoops. Guess the Force is back on."
His bundle giggled, the knight squeezed him carefully. The boy smothered his laughter in the older man's chest, Greg's heart softened even farther. How could anything that young and helpless be dark?
He carried the bundle swiftly to his quarters, carefully avoiding fellow Jedi. He wasn't planning on helping the lad escape, but he knew better than to allow himself be caught comforting the Sith's padawan. Even if he was an unwilling padawan and only ten. Greg tightened his hold on the little boy.
Qui Gon was never going let him hear the end of this one.
He waved his hand over the door panel, Sherlock wiggled as the door slammed shut behind them. Greg put him down gently, the boy favored his arm and glanced around the quarters swiftly. His clicked his bare feet together. "Nice." He mumbled.
"Yeah."
"Clean. Not here often?"
"Hardly ever here." The master confirmed.
Sherlock blinked up at the knight. Greg knelt in front of Sherlock, the boy dropped his gaze. The elder gently held the boy's chin and made him looking into his brown eyes. The boy whimpered. "What's going to happen to me now?"
"You're going to stay with me, do you accept that?"
"You mean do I accept the light, don't you?" The boy tried to look away, but Greg held his chin firmly.
"Yes, Sherlock."
The child sniveled. "You don't want me, don't be foolish. I am a Sith…"
"Not if you don't want to be, kid." Greg said gently and released the tiny boy's chin. He rose to make the boy tea. Sherlock had been a self-reliant child since he was four, he had never needed anyone, never wanted anyone. He wanted the knight. He threw himself at the Jedi's strong leg and sobbed.
"I don't wanna be dark anymore. I hate it, I hate it, sir. Please, can I stay with you?"
"Course you can, kid." He rubbed the back of the little boy's neck soothingly. His hand made light circles under his hairline and around his ear. He gave a small tug on the little boy's ear. Sherlock sobbed until Greg picked him and set him on kitchen counter, he noted painful sores on the boy's feet. He slowly handed him a tea bowl and made him sip it. The warm liquid calmed the boy.
"I-I never caught your name."
"Gregory Lestrade." The silver haired knight held out his hand for the ten year old to shake. Sherlock accepted it. Greg knelt slowly and turned over the child's feet. The sores were red and irritated, pus leaked down his heel. Greg began rubbing ointment over it. The boy's eyes widened at the sight of a Jedi humbling himself before a child.
"Will you be my teacher, Gregory Lestrade?" The boy asked almost hopefully.
"I'd like to be, curly one." The knight smiled. He motioned for the boy to continue sipping his tea. Sherlock obeyed him as his feet were bound in bandages.
"My master would not allow it. He'll come looking for me. He will." The boy started to cry again.
Greg let him.
Sherlock didn't seem like he had cried enough in his life time.
"I will not let him take you, kid. Not if you want to stay with me." The knight said firmly. He pulled the child into his arms, he rubbed the little boy's back comfortingly. Sherlock seemed to wither into his chest. "You could be my padawan. If you haven't bonded with the Sith."
"I haven't." The boy cried. "He wasn't my teacher, he owned me. That's what the term "master" meant to him."
"I'd like to be your teacher, Sherlock." He could hear Qui Gon's endless rave towards him about his new padawan.
I tell you to take on a learner and you come back with a Sith? My friend you are truly bold.
Sherlock curled into the knight's arms and drew his knees to his chest. Greg pulled the boy onto the couch and laid him down on his chest, covering them with his robe. He produced a small napear and handed to Sherlock gingerly. The dark haired child would never allow himself to be fed. The boy nibbled on the corner of the fruit.
"Good?"
"Mmhmm."
He waited until the boy had finished, or at least until he started pocketing the left over pieces. Greg gave him a small shake. "Sherlock?"
"For later." The boy defended. His fingers began stuffing the pieces in his undergarments because he had no pockets, they slid in easily next to his reed pipes. "Where I come from you're lucky if you get feed more than once a week. It's instinct to scrounge."
"Little one, you don't need to scrounge anymore." He held out his hand for the extra pieces of fruit, Sherlock grudgingly gave it to him.
Greg rocked the boy for a short while, until Sherlock was snoring peacefully in his chest. He seemed so small, so frail. Sherlock looked slight enough for the wind to blow him away if it was strong enough. He was no Sith.
There was a firm knock on his quarter's door.
Balls.
Sherlock slept on.
"Open!" He called as softly as he could while still being heard.
An angry Master Dooku, Donavan, and Master Yoda appeared in his doorway. Yoda didn't look nearly as peeved as the others, but Donavan looked ready to feed him to a rancor. He motioned to the sleeping boy. "Do be quiet Sally. It took me forever to get him to sleep." He rocked Sherlock gently.
"Do you know what you've done?" She hissed.
"Yeah. I think I've took a frightened little boy and have feed him after days of being starved. Oh, he said he had his wrist broken by a "lady guard". You wouldn't happen to know who that was? Sally?"
"He is the Sith's apprentice. His special ability is his gift to make people do as he wishes with his voice." His friend was beside herself. "It took us ten hours to get that little Sith into his cell. He talked half of our guards into releasing him."
Greg thought back, the boy hardly said boo time him since they had arrived. Mostly the poor kid had cried, Sherlock shifted in restlessly his sleep. "Leave him be, Sally. Did you ask him his age before you stuck him in that cell? Or did you just crack him over the head and stuff him there?"
"Second one. And I'll do it again." She took a step towards his boy.
"I. Will. Maim. You." The young knight snarled.
Master Dooku's hand strayed to his saber hilt, Greg whipped his saber off his belt and flung it at the clan of masters. It rolled at Yoda's feet. Greg gathered the boy to his chest and glared at his superiors. "He is only a little boy, Master. There is no darkness in his heart, you must feel it."
Sherlock choose that moment to whimper in his sleep. Greg pulled his robe tighter around the slender figure, none of the masters softened their faces.
"Gregory." The silver haired man said unsympathetically.
"He is only a child."
"No 'm not." Came the sleepy reply. "Not a child."
"Hey kiddo." Greg murmured softly.
Sherlock rubbed his eyes as he took in the three new adults. He immediately bristled as recognized Donavan, he shrank back against Greg's chest. Master Yoda remained silently, but stared as if in-tranced by the child. Sherlock slid off Greg's chest unwillingly and held his chin up in defiance. "I didn't do anything."
"You are the padawan of a Sith lord." Donavon nearly shrieked.
"No I'm not! I am not his learner!" Sherlock stamped his foot in defiance. "He wanted me 'cause of my gifts. He didn't teach me anything! He just used me a lot…" Sherlock trembled at the memory. "I don't want to talk about it." He said at last.
"Not his learner, you are? Whose then? Hmmm?" The little green thing clearly frightened the boy. He glanced back to Greg.
"Mine." Greg rested his hand on his padawan's thin shoulders. "The boy is my learner."
Sherlock stood a little straighter, his back was pressed deep in the young knight's leg. The knight sent the soothing waves of the Force deep into the boy's mind. They weren't bonded, but Sherlock accepted his warmth gratefully. He seemed to relax slightly under the knight's gentle grasp. Sally snarled at the ten year old. "He obviously has you under his influence."
"That isn't true!" Sherlock shouted hoarsely. He grabbed Lestrade's fingers in his desperate need for the knight to believe him.
Greg opened his mouth to defend the boy, but was swiftly cut off by a firm rapping against his buttocks. Master Yoda had crept behind him as his fellow master argued, the knight had barely noticed him. Even Sherlock looked surprised to be so close to the Grand Master. Lestrade reached down to take the mortified boy's hand. He was rewarded with a low, forbidding, hissing noise. He withdrew his hand.
"Master, if he had influence over me why would he stay here? The only thing he has asked me to do is fix his wrist." Greg pleaded.
The grand master cocked his head to the side, Sherlock mimicked him unconsciously. The green troll made a small noise in the back of his throat, the ten year old took a tentative step towards the object of his attention. Greg scrutinized the child and grand master. Yoda made a small motion with his hand that caused the child to follow him absent mindedly. The grand master led him into the next room.
"Like Knight Lestrade, you do." The grand master said the moment the door closed.
The accused bowed his head. "He is kind, sir."
"Trust him, you do. Hmmm?"
The little boy held up his bandaged wrist as if it everything was explained. The green midget indicated the boy should sit. Sherlock sat down unwillingly on Greg's bed. "Trust him because he is kind, you should not. About him, you know nothing." The midget pointed the end of his staff at Sherlock's nose.
The boy pondered. "I know he didn't want a padawan, but he asked me to be his even still. I know he cares more about people who need him than where those people come from. I know he wanted to be a healer, but his master made him stay in the field. I know he breaks rules lots of times, and it makes people think he's untrustworthy. I know he gets really mad when people hurt children no matter which side of the Force they are…I know his light saber is green."
The elder raised his eyebrows.
"Burns around the saber hilt." The boy said as if it were obvious. "He said he wanted me to be his padawan." The child said stubbornly.
"To old, you are." The midget accused. "Seduced by the dark side, you have been."
"No, sir. I was…" Sherlock hesitated. "I was afraid of him, sir." The boy very slowly pulled Lestrade's robe from his shoulders and turned his back. Yoda took in all the boy's scars.
"Angry at him, are you? Hmmm? Hate him? Hmmm?" The green midget poked the boy in his ribs. Sherlock cringed as the staff hit his cracked ribs.
"I am angry…I don't hate him…kind of…"
"Too dark, you are."
"I…Mr. Lestrade said…"
"Too close already, he is. Give up much for you, he will."
"You mean he'll get in trouble?" The boy growled.
"Likely." The old master giggled. "Protective, he is."
"I don't want him to get in trouble." The boy said heatedly.
"Inevitable. Throw away his future, Lestrade will." The master punctuated each word with the widening of his dark green eyes. Sherlock clicked his bandaged feet together uncomfortably, he could hardly hold back his tears. Lestrade was a kind man, he couldn't let the kind knight throw away his future for a Sith. Sherlock sniffled.
"I don't want him to. I'll go back to prison." The child rubbed tears out of his eyes with his least injured arm. "Please don't hurt Master Lestrade. He's a good man, sir."
"Hmmm." The elder seemed to ponder the child. Sherlock held out his wrists to be chained together, the master put the binders around his thin arms carefully. They walked out side by side, Sherlock avoided the other masters' eyes. He heard Greg's outward gasp as he noticed the binders. "Sherlock?"
Sherlock cringed at the pain that laced through Greg's voice. He tore his gaze from the floor and looked into Greg's hurt brown eyes. "Don't be stupid." The boy muttered through clenched teeth. "You knew it wouldn't work. I'm a Sith, remember? You're a Jedi. Even if I wanted to I couldn't change to the light." Sherlock was crying miserably.
Greg knelt in front of the little boy. "Sherlock, look at me. You can change to the light, you are not dark. You are no Sith, there isn't dark in your heart. You were lonely, not dark." Greg caught the child's chin. "I could feel it, you were lonely."
Sherlock took Greg's hand between his bound hands and removed it. He held it for a second longer than he should have. "My I keep your robe, Master? Please?" The boy pleaded. The knight nodded painfully, Sherlock leaned forward sluggishly. He extended out his tiny hands with a precious parcel in the middle of the two insignificant palms.
His reed pipes.
Greg accepted them gingerly.
At last the boy followed the clan of masters out, a terrified child between three calm masters. Greg doubled over in pain.
oOo
Sherlock stood erect before the Jedi council.
He trained his eyes on Master Yoda, he couldn't look at anyone else without feeling the dreadful sense of fear. They allowed some knights to be present, Greg included. Sherlock couldn't bring himself to look for him. He tightened the knight's robe around his shoulders with his hands still in binders.
"Sherlock Holmes." The white haired man who had arrested him said. "You are accused of being the padawan of the Sith Moriarty. You are also accused of using your talents to corrupt Jedi guards. How do you plead?"
The child took a deep breath. "I wasn't his padawan. He just wanted to use me for my curse, he never taught me anything. And of course I used my curse to get your guards off me! The one broke my wrist. I was convinced the idiots would kill me."
"Silence." The white haired master commanded.
"You can't ask me a question, then order me to be silent." Sherlock huffed.
Yoda stamped his cane on the ground, Sherlock fell mute. "A decision, we have already made. Exiled, you cannot be. Find you, the Sith will."
Sherlock took deep breathe in.
He was going to die.
The ten year old straightened. "I understand, sir."
"Know what this means, do you?"
"I am to be executed." The boy said to the space above the grand master's head.
"But safe your friend Lestrade, will be." The master said gently.
Sherlock heard Greg swallow hard, a man with long brown hair was pinning him to a wall. Greg was fighting against him fiercely, the larger man has his broad hand over the knight's mouth. "Just get it over with." The boy knelt before the master. He bowed his head, waiting for the light saber to activate. The midget merely chuckled.
"The council has decided. Have a master of the light, you will." He said decidedly.
Sherlock's dark head rose twice as swiftly as it had lowered. He looked into the grand master's green eyes. "I thought I was too old to become a Jedi?"
"Wish to argue, do you? Hmmm?" The green midget chuckled.
"No, sir." The child mumbled.
"Are we done confusing the poor boy, Master? Are you satisfied he isn't dark?" Greg hissed from under the long haired man. "May I take my padawan now?"
Sherlock looked ready to faint from the overwhelming fact that he would not be killed. He felt a pang of relief, and he rose from his knees. He bowed his head so none of the master could see tears progressing down his cheeks and soaking his master's robe. He took deep, hiccupping breaths. "Is this true, sir?"
"Doubt me, do you?" The grandmaster asked warningly.
The boy shook his head violently, his voice did not waver as he spoke. "I have been raised in a manner in which trusting is not the norm. I…forgive me. I-I trust and thank you, Master." The child bowed low. "I don't deserve it."
"At least he knows it." Donavon mumbled.
Sherlock weakened at the cruelty that was thrown at his already scarred body. His shoulders slumped ever so slightly. A warm palm pushed aside the comforting robe and covered his shoulder. Sherlock turned to see a grey haired knight glaring in Donavon's direction. He rubbed his chin against the master's callused hand, Greg trained his attention back to his padawan. "You are mine now, Curly. And you owe me laps for going back to your cell and not informing me of your choices."
The child nodded, tears flowing faster. "Yes, Master."
"Discuss with you the plans of your former master, later I will." Yoda informed the sobbing boy.
"Yes." Was all the child could say. The masters were dismissed swiftly with a bored wave. Some nodded in Greg's direction, others glared, and Sally of course hissed violently. Sherlock waited until all of them had exited and the long haired knight shared words with Greg before pitching himself into the young knight's arms. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
"Shhh. You were forgiven the minute the deed was over." Greg gently tugged on the small boy's hair. His padawan's hair.
Force that felt weird to think.
"Master, there are others. Other children I mean, younger than me. The proper training age for Jedi. If I give The Order their location can they save them too? My friend Rica, she's only eight." The new padawan babbled.
"I will petition for it immediately, Curly." He ran his fingers around the little boy's ear and rubbed it between his thumb and index finger. Sherlock nuzzled the hand affectionately.
"Master, why am I allowed to be a Jedi? Aren't I too old?" Sherlock hiccupped.
"Sherlock you have already been trained in the art of the Force, now with proper guidance you will make a great Jedi." Greg knelt in front of Sherlock slowly and caught his chin. "And I am honored that you find me interesting enough to be your master."
Sherlock nodded. "Barely."
"Brat."
"Yes, Master."
oOo
John nearly hurled himself from the bed.
A cold sweat plastered his fair hair to his forehead, his breathing caught in his throat. Sherlock was no longer in his room, but the boy could sense his master on the meditation mats. John pulled off his soiled tunic and flung it across the room in rage. He could barely stand as his body trembled aggressively.
John stood on wobble knees and stumbled across the room. He managed to punch the code in and open his door. Sherlock didn't raise his head, he could feel his padawan's fury across the bond. He took a deep shaken breath in.
And prepared to be abandoned.
"Master?" John said unsteadily.
"John?" Sherlock's voice was barely audible.
John broke into a dead sprint and pitched himself into his master's arms. He was at the tender age where even in the face of others misfortune, he needed to be comforted. He buried his face in Sherlock's neck. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry you had to endure that amount of unkindness, Master."
Sherlock faltered at the boy's words. "That wasn't…John the point was…was to show you I was a Sith."
"No, Master. You were not a Sith. I heard what you said to Donavon, you weren't his learner." John sobbed.
"John…" Sherlock gathered the child to his chest and pulled him onto a chair. He rocked the boy slowly, John wept into his chest. "Do not be angry, John. I didn't show you my past to anger you, I showed you to make you understand," Sherlock put his chin on the top of John's head and nuzzled him, "you are learning from a former Sith…"
John nestled into his chest. "You weren't dark, Master. Master Lestrade said…"
"Shhh." The master said softly. "Shhh."
"Where are they reed pipes, Master?" The boy murmured. "I have never seen them before."
"I haven't played them in three years, little one."
"Why, Master?"
Sherlock wavered. "I can only play sad melodies, John. It's been that way since I was a boy, I was informed I needed to retire my music."
John whimpered.
"John, it wasn't shown to you to make upset…"
Another whimper.
"I am not lonely anymore, little one." Sherlock muttered.
"Promise?"
"Yes my little one."