A/N: I was bored and this was the result. Yes, their will be some similarities between the two, but that's okay! I hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Sherlock walked inside, putting down the groceries. He sighed, tired from his shopping trip. He sighs, putting on the kettle. A loud bump from upstairs makes him jump and immediately he grabs his cellphone. Sherlock dials 9-1-1 and waits for them to answer.
"9-9-9, what's your emergency?" The lady asks calmly.
"Someone's in my house." He whispers in a panicked tone.
"Are you sure it's not a family member?"
"No, no. It's just me. My husband is at work and my kid's at school."
"Okay, sir, remain calm. Tell us your address and stay where you are." He tells them then hangs up, grabbing a knife. He was much more paranoid now since the accident. He felt like he just wasn't safe anymore. As if the world was out to get him. He creeps up the stairs, going towards the noise.
He raised an eyebrow when he noticed it was coming from the bedroom. He pushes the door open slowly, then gasps. He turns away from the room, his eyes filling with angry tears. John comes out, panic and sympathy in his blue eyes. His hair was rumpled and he was panting loudly still.
Lipstick traced his cheeks and his boxers were thrown on in a rushed manner, being crooked on his hips. He grabs his mate's arm, trying to make eye contact
"Sherlock, I'm sorry. I didn't mean t-" Sherlock pushes him, cutting John's chest a bit my accident. Sherlock runs downstairs and John watches, hating himself.
The cars rolled by their window, all going to different places and trying to get their fast. John was driving, while Sherlock sat in the passenger seat, while Sherlock stared out the window. He was lost in thought, again. Their daughter, Charlotte, sat in the back. She had her headphones in and was slowly dosing off. Sherlock and John had adopted her when she was nine. Now she was sixteen.
She was a good girl, had steady grades, and loved both of her Dad's. She had long brown hair and chocolate-brown eyes. She didn't have a lot of friends, not really getting along with people very well. Sherlock was hoping this could be a new start for her. Well, actually all of them.
"Hey, I'm hungry." She pipes up, taking her ear buds out.
"Nice to meet you, hungry." John laughs and she rolls her eyes. Typical teenager.
"No, seriously. Can we get some food?"
"Not yet, plus we're almost there." Sherlock says with a smile.
"I can't believe this shit."
"Oi! Only your Father's allowed to say that." Sherlock jokes and John chuckles. "Just hang in there, Charlie, then we can eat in our new kitchen." That's what everyone called her, Charlie.
"Fine, but it better be a nice ass kitchen."
"Hey, with the language!"
"Sorry, Dad." She lays he'd head against the window again closing her eyes. John takes his right hand off the steering wheel, reaching for Sherlock's. He grabs his hand in his, but the detective pulls away. John sighs, feeling terrible again. Sherlock holds back tears.
They arrive at the house, gaping at it. It was a gigantic house that was clearly larger than what they needed. The three exit the car, meeting the sales woman at the door. Charlie smiles, loving the Los Angeles heat. The sales woman leads them inside. She rambles on about how the house was built in the 1920s and that the original owner had been a doctor.
"I have to tell you about the previous owners." She says in a solemn tone.
"Oh God, what happened to them?" John asks, slightly worried.
"They died here. Both committed suicide, in the basement. It was quite sad and to make matters worse, I was the one who had sold them the house." John and Sherlock are a bit skeptical, that particular story making them nervous. It's Charlie who makes the final decision.
"We'll take it. I mean, ghosts aren't real, right?"
"Of course not!" The sales woman says with a wave of a hand and a smile. "Well, I shall leave you to it." She exits through the front door, her heels clicking the whole way.
"Well, this is it. Our new life." John states, hugging the two of them. He notices Sherlock is slightly tense, but stays in the embrace for her sake.
For Charlie.
"You start school Monday, Charlie." Sherlock says, taking another bite of his pizza. She sighs in reply. "It's a nice public school and I thin you'll like it. If not, we can always transfer or home school you. Can you give this school a chance, please?"
"Fine, but only because you asked me to." She finishes her pizza and soda, standing up. "I'm going to bed now. Goodnight." She kisses both of them, exiting the kitchen. She notices the door under the stair case.
"A basement. Awesome." She whispers, turning the knob. It's unlocked so she looks down. It was pitch dark so she turns her phone on, using it as a flashlight. She feels the air change and shivers. The room was empty and boring. Not a damn thing. With a sigh and some disappointment, she goes back up stairs.
Sherlock and John finish up, not talking. Sherlock was washing dishes and John comes up behind him, putting his hands in his hips. The taller man pulls away, going upstairs. By the time John gets finished and upstairs, Sherlock was already in bed and asleep. John changes, getting in next to him.
He makes no attempt to get closer to his partner or to wake him up. He just lays there, staring at the ceiling. This was it. Their new home. Their new life. Their new beginning.
A/N: I need your help. First help me with reviews on what you think. Second, what happened to Sherlock? What was the tragic event that changed him forever? Give me some ideas and I promise to update fast. If you don't, I will update slowly. ;)