John refused to leave Sherlock's side.
"Enough of this." Mycroft snapped as he reached for the child who had no business being in the healer's bay. The boy shot him a challenging look and darted back under Sherlock's bed. The young knight had been unconscious now for a full day.
"He told me to stay with him." John found his way to the middle point underneath the king size bed. John had hidden himself there since Sherlock began his medical treatment, and Mycroft was through patiently trying to talk him out from under the bed.
"Padawan your master is going to be alright. You have classes…"
"Forgive me, Master, but I am following my teacher's orders." John tried diplomatically.
"I will not ask you again." The master threatened.
"Good because I'm tired of hearing you." The exhausted child snapped in a way that would have filled his master with pride. Mycroft's eyes narrowed, and John barely had time to shield himself from the heavy Force shove. The child prayed the master would not attempt another push, he was too exhausted to block another shove. Luckily the elder stalked away.
Rica tried next.
She came close to coaxing him out with soft words and assurance of his master's health, but when she told him he needed sleep the boy fled back to his solace. The child curled into a ball under his master's still body, Rica sighed.
Qui Gon was the one to finally achieve the goal.
Clever old goat.
He knelt on the right side of Sherlock's bed and gave no words of scorn or assurance. Grey eyes stared sympathetically into John's blue. The boy shook his head fierce, desperate for someone to understand. He tightened his Force shields on his right side.
And was greatly surprised to get shoved from left.
Qui Gon's padawan, Obi Wan, nudged the unyielding padawan towards his master easily. The boy was caught against the elder's chest, John didn't fight him. The child's fatigued body merely collapsed against the strong master.
"Please. Please, he told me to stay." John muttered. "He needs me, Master. Please."
Qui Gon sat down in one of the rooms chair and cradled the boy carefully. He nodded dismissively to his padawan, who gave an understanding nod and bowed. Qui Gon stared concernedly at Sherlock.
"Tell me everything."
John described everything to last detail.
Qui Gon's brow furrowed.
"Greg…is your master alright with having seen Lestrade?"
"I believe so, sir."
Qui Gon set the boy back to the floor, John looked to Sherlock longingly.
"Here are my rules, young one. You may stay with your master, but you will eat when food is given to you, you will use the bathroom regularly, and you will drink water every hour."
John nodded.
"And you will sleep at night."
"In here." John begged.
The elder hesitated. "Very well."
"Thank you, Master." John said softly.
"The moment these rules are disobeyed you will be staying with Master Mycroft."
"I understand, Master."
"Go to him then."
John dashed towards the bed and perched himself at his master's side. John was careful of all the machines keeping track of his master's vitals as he laid his head down next to him.
Qui Gon nearly smiled at the two.
Nearly.
oOo
Sherlock awoke a week later.
He felt terribly broken inside, his bones still cried in pain whenever he shifted. The knight forced himself to remain unmoving. His eyes flickered to a small being, whose head was resting near his leg. Sherlock made to reach for his padawan, but the machine wires restrained him, clearly the Jedi healers were overly worried about him. He began tearing wires from himself.
John's head shot up as soon as his master's heart monitor went into a flat line. Sherlock reached out to touch the child's check.
It was soaking wet.
His eyes went to greasy blond hair on his padawans head, the dark circles under the child's eyes, the knight had been unconscious for too long.
Long enough for the healers to tell John his master more than likely wouldn't awaken again.
The boy's clouded blue eyes stared at him incomprehensively, he was far too drained to have slept at all in the last week. Sherlock frowned heavily. John had thought he was going to die.
It was an absolutely ridiculous notion, Sherlock had no more intentions of dying before John was properly raised. He collected the boy in an awkward embrace that was not returned. The child was too tired to remember how to move his arms correctly.
Sherlock hoisted the baby boy into the air and made his way to the room's bathroom. John lay limp against the knight's chest, the child could barely recognize his master's hold.
Sherlock drew a bath swiftly, he opened the warm water tap half way and watched the steam roll for from the faucet. Carefully the knight set John on his own two feet and monitored the child's swaying. He pulled the tunics from over the boy's head, the same from a week ago, and freed the child of his pants and undergarments. He gently arranged the child in the tub.
John stink had been horrendous. How had Rica not forced the boy to bathe?
John was asleep in seconds, the water lapped his skin hungrily. Sherlock reached for a bar of soap and felt the pressure of a soft hand over his.
"Sherlock."
"Rica."
"You're supposed to be dead." She said frankly.
"Sorry to disappoint." He said with a grim smile.
"You know what I mean." She said sorely.
Sherlock lathered the soap bar and began scrubbing John's thin arms, he had to constantly right the child's slumping head as he was cleaned. Sherlock scowled angrily. "Why hasn't he washed since we've arrived?"
"Sherlock, we could hardly pull him away from you to use the bathroom! He insisted that he remain by your side at all times. Mycroft is furious at the attachment between you two."
"There is no attachment between us." Sherlock said crossly. The knight cradled the boy's head as he scrubbed his back. Sherlock made his movements soft and gentle.
"Clearly not." Rica snapped.
"He is filthy, what would you advise? Leaving him that way?" Sherlock washed the child lightly with a rag. John groaned softly as the warm water coursed down his back. The elder began washing the child's hair shortly after. John made a childish mew as the hand carded tenderly through his hair. Sherlock smiled slightly.
"Stop it." Rica snapped.
"What?" Sherlock asked bitterly.
"You are giving them reason to take him away from you." Rica nearly shouted, but reigned back her temper for the knight's sake. Sherlock was still new to feelings.
The knight cupped water in his hands and poured it over John's hair, the boy's face contorted in annoyance. "I haven't been here in a month, Rica. They can't possibly have enough data to…"
"Qui Gon had to force him out from under the bed. I had to force him to use the restroom. Mycroft had to force him off of you after you blacked out in the base!"
John whimpered at her shouting.
Sherlock pulled the child from the tub and drained the water. He shook John awake and made him stand as he was dried. Sherlock softly ran the towel over John's soft hair. "He grew an inch."
"What?"
"I was imprisoned, and he had the nerve to grow." Sherlock said bitterly as though hating himself for the words. "I will not miss more of his development. The council as well as the Force has decided this boy is my padawan."
John hummed quietly in agreement, though Sherlock was quite certain the child was too incoherent to truly understand what was happening. He wrapped the boy in the towel and hoisted him in the air.
"I don't want them to take him from you." Rica said honestly.
"I am this boy's master that is final." Sherlock swore swiftly. "This child is mine."
He carried the boy to his former bed without a backwards glance. The knight laid the child down on the soft sheets and tucked him under the warm blanket. He glanced around for his belongings and found his pants stuffed in a corner.
He was lucky Rica hadn't burned them.
In the pants pocket a small, torn bear had been stuffed. Sherlock picked up from the pile and thrust it at the woman. "Sow this."
"He isn't my padawan." Rica glared at him teasingly. She took the bear from him slowly. Sherlock's face flushed slightly as their fingertips met, the young woman rolled her eyes. "This is just another one you owe me, Curls."
"Kriff off." He scoffed rudely.
"Go be with him, you insufferable man." Rica rolled her eyes as she left.
Sherlock arranged himself around the small boy that had curled his way into the mess of blankets. Gently Sherlock stroked his padawan's back as the lay together, John still oblivious to being clean and in a bed. John gave a small yawn and turned into Sherlock's chest.
Not so oblivious then.
Sherlock searched John's open mind for the last time he had slept. It had been almost eight days ago. Sherlock mental cursed his padawan.
John was a child. Children needed naps, nine hours of sleep a night, to be fed, and bathed properly. John had had none of that during the week.
And the fact that the child had the very audacity to grow taller as his master could not watch was almost unbearable. Sherlock held the boy closer to his chest. John would be nine soon.
And then ten.
And then sixteen.
And then knighted.
Sherlock tightened his grip.
No. The child wasn't allowed to grow so fast. John shifted in his sleep, his small face shoved itself farther into his master's strong chest. John's nose seemed to be scenting the knight carefully. Sherlock growled approvingly.
John's eyes fluttered. "Master?"
"Little one." Sherlock pressed his forehead to John's. "You should be sleeping."
"…told me you may not…Master Mycroft said to prepare for the worst." John nestled into the Jedi's embrace. "Scared." The boy muttered finally.
"I will not die at least until you have been raised." Sherlock promised.
"You can't promise that, Master." John murmured.
"Do not doubt me, brat." Sherlock said lightly.
John smiled against Sherlock's neck. "I will never doubt you, Master."
"Now who is making promises they cannot keep?" Sherlock asked softly.
"Master…"
Sherlock rolled both of them over and laid the child on his chest. John praised the living Force as Sherlock's strong heart beat kept time beneath his cheek. John yawned softly as sleep crashed back over him, Sherlock kissed his small brow.
"I have nightmares." John confessed. "I-I can see them hurt you. You never cry out, but it looks like it hurts, Master."
"It never hurt, little one. You hit harder than them."
"They whipped you." John spoke quietly. "And electrocuted you, and beat you, and held you under water, and…"
"John." Sherlock said softly. He called upon his curse. "You will sleep now."
The child nodded at once obedient and fell asleep in a second, Sherlock took in the sleeping boy's peaceful face. The small, rosebud mouth was opened slightly, the turned up nose wrinkled as Sherlock adjusted his weight, the baby fat that still lined his face.
John's breaths were short, but strong.
The sound was musical.
He allowed himself to shut his eyes and breathe the child in.
Safe.
Safe.
John was safe.
oOo
"Inexcusable."
Sherlock ignored his brother and cocked an eyebrow at his apprentice, who was still refusing food. John scowled at his untouched fruit as though it were poison. Sherlock allowed the Force to light the napear into the air towards his padawan's mouth.
The boy refused, claiming his stomach ached.
"It aches because you are hungry, little one."
John reluctantly bit into the fruit, Sherlock released it into his padawan's open hands.
"Sherlock." Mycroft snapped. "The boy is too attached to you."
"I assume someone who was attached would show more obedience." Sherlock scolded as John put the fruit back onto the table.
"And there would only be attachment given to understanding patrons, Master." John's smart mouth had mysteriously made a reappearance. "Ones who would not force food open innocent children."
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Brat."
"Yes, Master." The child grinned towards him.
Mycroft cleared his throat loudly, Sherlock cocked his head in a bored fashion. The master's brow unfurrowed, Mycroft spoke in an even voice. "He is too young to be an apprentice, Sherlock. We did not factor in his age causing attachment."
Both Jedi froze.
"It was a trying time, Mycroft. I had been-" the knight looked to John and sighed, "tortured, of course he was unwilling to leave my side."
"And when did you become the expert on feelings, my brother." Mycroft sneered.
Sherlock said nothing, but motioned John to his side. The child found his obedience and scrambled towards his master. John gave Mycroft a pleading gaze. "It will not happen again, Master. Sherlock usually has the stench of a bantha. Truly I was only attached to his side that once."
"Little one." Sherlock scowled.
"Jedi do not lie, Master."
Sherlock's hand twitched as if to pull the boy closer, but froze as Mycroft's eyes narrowed. "He will be brought back to his youngling group, and you may resume his training at the age of twelve."
John's sharp intake of breath startled the knight. Fear crashed across their shared bond. Sherlock gave his brother a cold glance. "Let me speak with him."
"Sherlock…"
"It is the least you can do. The child has been through enough and you've attacked him with yet another problem." Sherlock snapped as he guided John in his bedroom. The elder slammed the door shut.
"M-master." John clung to him the second the door shut. "They can't. Master, that's four years."
Sherlock stroked the boy's hair softly. "It is less than four years, John. Don't be dramatic."
"Master!" John shouted.
"Little one." Sherlock knelt before his padawan. "What would have me do, child? I cannot defy the whole council with a decision about you. If I stalked in there demanding to keep you," the knight cupped the child's cheek. "those idiots would take you away, and I would never see you again."
Sherlock hated approaching the subject reasonably.
The imbeciles did not deserve reasonable for causing his padawan more pain.
"But…" John bowed his head miserably.
"I will not just hand you over to Mycroft. Stop sulking, little one. I will speak to the council presently." Sherlock pulled John closer to him. "And…and we will accept whatever answer is given to us and turn it into something less idiotic."
John sniffled into his shoulder. "After all that, Master. They will truly take you away from me? Just like that."
"Just like that." The knight confirmed gently. "And do not forget they are taking you away from me as well."
"Yes, but you will be able to go adventures and forget…"
Padawan, enough." Sherlock shook him sharply. "We are still bonded, we are still master and apprentice. I will not just leave."
John leaned in closer to his master. "I trust you, Master. Even if you smell like bantha bottom."
Sherlock heaved the little boy into the air. His heart pounded.
How tall would John be at twelve?
Would his voice have changed by then?
Would he still want to be a healer?
Would he still want Sherlock?
He would talk to Mycroft.
oOo
Mycroft's judgment remained unchanged. There would be no compromises, no adjustments, Sherlock could visit his padawan once a standard month, no more.
Kriff.
The next chapter is the last in this installment, there will be a sequel and a prequel coming up soon!