*So the next two chapters are going to be one story that I wrote and I wanted to share. I just…sorry if it doesn't go with the theme I just didn't want to start a whole new story. So I hope you enjoy. And review, please, I have many many more of these long stories that I'll share if I get any sort of responses.
When Ian was four, Sherlock and John faced a "problem", as Sherlock thought of it as, of sending their child to school. Of course John was thrilled. He was still at the point of wanting Ian to be a doctor, like him, or the world's second consulting detective, like Sherlock, or the British government, like Mycroft, or anything brilliant that their son was capable of. Sherlock, however, was completely bummed. He didn't want Ian to go, on days that Sherlock had nothing to do and John was at work, Ian was his source of entertainment; they'd do experiments, they'd go to the park, they'd attempt to bake or cook something, they'd have contests, they'd make forts, or they'd watch television -which Sherlock was excited to finally be away from.
So on Ian's first day of school, John got him up and ready to go. John had to go to work anyway, which made this Sherlock's first day completely alone in over four years. When they were ready to leave, they both went into Sherlock and John's room to say goodbye.
"Are you sure you don't want to go with us, Sherlock?" John asked.
"Just leave me here to die alone." Sherlock replied. Ian giggled.
"Come on, Daddy, come with us." Ian pulled on Sherlock's arm, but Sherlock didn't move off the bed. He pulled Ian to him and cradled the child under his arm. Ian laughed and tried to move Sherlock's arm, but he couldn't move. "Come on, Daddy! Let me go!" Ian squealed.
"Don't leave me here, son! I might die of boredom!"
"You're being silly, Dad!" Ian laughed.
"Yes, I agree. You'll be fine." John kissed Sherlock's cheek and pulled Ian away. They were almost out the door what Sherlock called Ian back. "We have about three minutes, Ian. Hurry."
Ian went back to Sherlock's room and went to his bedside. Sherlock pulled Ian into a tight hug and kissed the top of his head. "Are you going to be ok, Daddy?" Ian asked.
"I hope so. If you need anything, call me, ok? Dad will be at work, but I'll be here all day."
"All right, Daddy."
"I love you."
"I love you, too."
At 9:37 AM, two hours after John and Ian left, Sherlock's phone rang.
"Sherlock Holmes." He answered.
"Mister Holmes, this is Miss Daily, Ian's teacher."
"Oh, hello. What can I do for you?"
"Well, Ian seems to have a rather bad stomach ache, he's felt awful since he got here."
"Has he? He was fine when he left this morning."
"He says it started in the car ride over. Anyway, Mister Holmes, if Ian's sick he can't st-"
"I'll be right there." Sherlock hung up and threw his coat on.
In twenty minutes he was at Ian's school. Ian sat in a chair in the nurse's station, hunched over clenching his stomach. Sherlock signed the papers to take him home, then went to Ian and kneeled in front of him.
"What's the matter, son?" Sherlock asked, but by then he realized Ian was faking. He was pale or green, and his eyes weren't glossy like they got when he had a stomach ache. He was perfectly fine. Sherlock held back a smile.
"My tummy aches."
"Do you need to throw up?"
"I might." Sherlock stood up and motioned for Ian to come along, but Ian paused, "Daddy I think you need to carry me."
"Oh, of course." Sherlock swooped down and pulled Ian into his arms.
Ian rested his head on Sherlock's shoulder until they were out of distance of the school and Sherlock stopped and put him down. "Faker," he said, once Ian's feet touched the ground, "I know you're not sick."
"Dang it!" Ian said, "Are you going to take me back?"
"No, I'm not. What's done is done, but why did you pretend to be sick?"
"I didn't want to stay."
"Why?"
"They're all imbeciles, Dad!" Ian threw his arms in the air very theatrically.
Sherlock chuckled, "Those children are your peers, and I'm sorry but you have to deal with them." Sherlock kneeled and adjusted Ian's shirt collar.
Ian sighed, "Ok, but can we go get ice cream?"
"It's 10 in the morning, I can't take you for ice cream. Your father would kill me." Sherlock looked at Ian and smiled, "On second thought, let's do it."
John went home for lunch that afternoon. It was his and Sherlock's first time alone in quite some time, John thought he'd make the best of it. Sherlock and Ian could hear John whistling up the stairs and swing the door open, then make his way to his and Sherlock's room. "Oh, my sweetheart," John called, pulling his jacket off and dropping it to the floor, "I've come home to-" John stopped talking once he saw Ian laying on their bed coloring. "What are you doing here?" John asked, obviously surprised of his son being home from school in the middle of the day.
"I had a stomach ache."
"You didn't have a stomach ache this morning."
"But, but," Ian paused to think, "I did when I got to school."
John looked from Ian to Sherlock, who each had the same look of guilt on their faces, "Ian could you go to the living room, I've got to discuss some things with your lovely daddy."
"Sure, Dad." Ian walked passed John and to the living room, then switched on the television.
John closed the door and stared at Sherlock. Sherlock shrugged, "What?"
"What? Why did you go get him?"
"He had a stomach ache."
John looked down into their bedside trash can, "He bloody well did not, there's an ice cream cup in the trash."
"Oh John, when you deduce things it gets me hot."
"Oh shut up, Sherlock. You can't just go get him because you're bored."
"I didn't go get him because I was bored, I went to get him because I was performing responsible fatherly duties and retrieving him when he said he had a stomach ache."
"All right, but seriously Sherlock. You can't just pick him up any time. You have to really make sure he is sick."
"Of course, John. Won't happen again."