A/N: Thanks to all my lovely readers and reviewers! You are all fabulous, you make my day so much better. So, new chapter! By the way, I am so sorry for the wait. I just started high school, I'm taking all honors classes, including an AP class, and I have a 6 day weekend due to flooding. Disclaimer: If anybody on this site owned Sherlock, there would be a heck of a lot more shipping involved in the show.
Sherlock waited impatiently in front of the school. It was getting cold, and he didn't have a coat. Finally, after ages, the familiar black Impala drove up. (Remember that from earlier? :)) Sherlock's mother was in the driver's seat, and she hurried to help Sherlock load his stuff in the trunk. Once they were safely in the heat of the car, she started talking. "What in the world was I thinking? Sending you off without a proper coat! I'm a terrible mother." Sherlock hastened to comfort her, and she smiled. "Only joking. I am amazing. But seriously, no coat?"
Sherlock and his mom eventually got home, to flat 34C. They again loaded Sherlock's stuff, only this time into the flat. Sherlock dragged it to his small room at the end of the hall. It didn't have much in it, only his science desk, bed, and his trunk, but it was his room, his space, and he loved it.
He headed back out to the living room, which was connected to the kitchen. His mom was in the kitchen, so he went to see what she was doing. She looked up and shooed him out of the kitchen. "Out, out! No, I'm not going to tell you what it is. Because it's a surprise!" She answered his questions, then changed the subject. "Oh, Mycroft is coming. He didn't say when, though, so it could be anytime. Now go do something! I don't know, wrap presents!" Sherlock grinned. He already had his present for Mother, and it was wrapped, though he didn't tell her that. For Mycroft he had gotten a fruit cake, along with a tie that incidentally had fat men all over it. It wasn't wrapped yet, though, so he set off to find the most boring wrapping paper his mother owned. It was rainbow. She really had relaxed since her husband's death, although she would never admit it.
Emma Holmes sat in the kitchen for a while. She kept up appearances in front of Sherlock, but she really wasn't fine, not really. She needed to tell someone, had to have someone who understood, who knew. That person wasn't Sherlock. He had hated Dave after what had happened three years ago. Maybe Mycroft could help her out. He was, after all, the British Government. Emma smiled. He had achieved so much in such a short amount of time. He was only 20 years old. At that age Emma had been pregnant with him and engaged to Dave. But it hurt to think about that. After a long, and rather arduous 2 years after their engagement, they had finally gotten married. When she was twenty-two. She hadn't done a whole lot for herself, she realized. She had set herself up to fail, and yet she had succeeded, surpassed all expectations made of her. Maybe, just maybe, Sherlock could learn to do the same. Maybe he would be great one day, but for now he was an eight year old child in need of normality. When so much in one's life has gone wrong, a bit of normality can't hurt.
A/N: And that's it for this chapter. Sorry, it's fairly short. I will try to put another up, but I also need to update my other stories. Thank you for being such patient readers. Reviews are appreciated. :)