June 1991
It was a sunny afternoon when Sergeant Lestrade got called to the crime scene of a shooting. It was really weird, because he wasn't even working that day. As he arrived at the scene, DI Gregson ran up to him.
"Sorry, I know you're off duty...but this in this shooting, there was a child. I do not know if he is shot...but he was here and we need to talk to him. But he wont even let us come close, as if he is scared... he only says he want Sergeant Lestrade to come." They started walking towards some trees that stood in one of the corners of the scene.
"Wait! Is it somebody I know?" Sergeant Lestrade asked. He hardly knew any kids at all. And no one that lived here in London.
"Don't know..."the DI said"but give it a try, would you?" He walked away and left Lestrade alone under the trees.
Lestrade looked up at them, unsure what to do. Then he saw someone in the tree above him. Way up almost at the top. He gasped as he recognised the mop of black hair and the black coat, it was him! The kid from the tube, Sherlock.
Sherlock looked down at him, fear filled his eyes and Lestrade could see that he had been crying, even as the boy tried not to show it. His face was pale, like really pale. Deathly pale. Lestrade smiled at him, and after a few seconds Sherlock smiled back.
"Hey Sherlock... Why don't you come down?" The boy shrugged at this starting to climb higher up in the tree.
"Wait! Sherlock I just want to talk to you...okay...just you and me..." He waited a moment and then he saw Sherlock starting to climb down again.
As the boy came closer, he saw how bad he really looked. His lower left side is soaked, in something that only could be blood, and his whole body is trembling. As he hangs in his arms to jump down to the ground, he just can't cope any longer. He loses his grip and falls.
Lestrade is just in time to catch him before he hits the ground. He sits down on the ground with the trembling boy in his lap. He looks after a wound and sees, to his relief that the blood didn't belong to the boy.
"Sherlock, why didn't you come down?" The boy looks up a him and mumbles something not understandable.
"What? What did you say?" The little boy turns his head away from him.
"I...don't like doctors..." Sergeant Lestrade stands up with Sherlock in his arms, and he slowly starts to go towards the ambulances. He knew that he had to get the boy checked out by the paramedics, Sherlock probably was in shock, and he wanted to make sure he was okay.
"I know...me neither. But the doctors are nice, and I'll be with you okay?" The boy in his arms nodded, but his whole body continued to tremble, of what Lestrade guessed was fear.
He takes Sherlock to the ambulance and gets him examined by the doctors, the whole time Sherlock sits in his lap, holding his hand.
Lestrade got permission to take Sherlock home a few hours later. During the whole time the boy had been sitting silently in his lap. . As he had asked the boy about where his parents where, the boy only had looked away in silence. He instead asked where Sherlock lived, but this time the boy looked him in the eyes for the first time.
"I live in London..." he whispered. Lestrade chuckled a little at this.
"Yes, I know that Sherlock. But where in London?" Sherlock looked at him confused at this, like he don't understand the question. It almost looks like he thinks Lestrade is stupid.
"Just London..."he states.
"Okay Sherlock. Why don't you show me where you live?" The little boy thinks for a second, and then he stands up and grabs Lestrade's hand.
As they comes gets out from the ambulance Sherlock walks in to a dark alley and then he guides Lestrade trough a labyrinth of back alleys and small streets. They soon arrives at the Themes, and Sherlock continue to walk by it. They walked by the river for almost an hour, out of central London and into the poor neighbourhoods outside.
Suddenly Sherlock began to walk away from the river, up towards a small group of old houses. He walked up to one of them, but instead of going in trough the door, he walked up to a window and shut it open. He signed to Lestrade to follow him and climbed trough it into the house.
Lestrade climbed in after him. Wondering why they didn't use the door. As he came inside the house he was stunned by the state of it. It wasn't dirty, or something like that. But it was empty, no chairs, no tables, nothing. He followed the boy upstairs, it creaked beneath his feet.
Upstairs it was almost as empty as downstairs, but the room they entered had four bunk beds in it and as Lestrade looked into an other room he saw that the room was filled with bookshelves and books.
"Hello, guys I'm back now!" the little boy shouted to the, what it seemed like, empty house."You can come out, Sergeant Lestrade wont hurt you."
And out of nowhere a boy came running towards them. He must have been two or three years older than Sherlock. After him came a young girl, about thirteen years old. Behind her walked two young children who couldn't be more than three or four years old. From the room to their left came five more children running. Three girls and two boys, all of them about six or seven years old. All of them greeted Sherlock with shouts and laughs, and the youngest of them hugged him. Lestrade stood at the door, and didn't know what to think. Who where this children, and where was their parents. All of them dressed in dirty ill fitting clothes, and all of them was a little too skinny to be well looking.
"Who are you?" someone behind him suddenly asked, Lestrade jumped, because he hadn't even heard someone getting up the stairs.
Lestrade turned around and saw a boy standing behind him. He was older than the rest of the children, maybe fifteen or sixteen. He had carried a bag with him, but as he had seen the Sergeant he had put it down and now walked towards the man with clenched fists.
"No Mycroft! He's nice, I brought him here." Sherlock walked up beside the boy called Mycroft and whispered something in his ear.
Sherlock looked at Mycroft with pleading eyes. The older boy seemed to think a second, but then he nodded. Sherlock looked glad about that, and he turned back towards the other children. He walked up to Lestrade and grabbed his hand.
"This is Sergeant Lestrade, he helped me, so there is no need to be afraid." the children still looked scared as they looked at him.
As Lestrade took a closer look at them he saw that none of them seemed to be related with each other, only Sherlock and the older boy Mycroft, and maybe the two youngest. The boy and the girl that were three or four years old. All of them stood close to each other like a scared group of animals, searching after protection from each other.
"This is Jonathan" Sherlock said and pointed at the older of the boys,"and that is Ella" the boy continued pointing at the oldest of the girls.
"Those two is called Sammy and Ellie"Sherlock said pointing at the two youngest of the children."And the others is called Jackie, Robin, Lisa, Chloe and Molly. You already know Mycroft's name."
Lestrade looked at the children, they all looked back at him. Studying him with curious eyes. Some of the younger children hide behind the older ones. One of the youngest, Sammy he thought, walked up to him. He stopped about two yards away from the young Sergeant.
"Why are you 'ere?" he asked. The little boy looked at him, almost frightened.
Lestrade didn't answer immediately, wondering what he should say. All the children stared at him, waiting for him to answer. It was only Mycroft who didn't, he picked up the bag again an turned around to walk downstairs.
"Sherlock showed me here..."he said, looking at the children and then around the room. Looking after signs of any parent or other grown-up."Where are your mum and dad?"
By the looks he got from the kids, that might not have been the best question. The most of them looked sad, and two of the youngest started crying.
"We don't 'ave mummies and daddies..."one of the girls said."They didn't want us...they left..." An other girl looked from the floor.
"My daddy was mean...mummy left him...I run away..."
Slowly Lestrade started to realise the situation. This children were street kids, homeless. All of them, they had either run away or been left by their parents. Why weren't they at an orphanage, or in foster families?
"Do you live here alone?" he asked."all by your selves, how do you get food, and money?"
It was Ella that answered.
"All of us earn money in different ways." she said," Sherlock plays the violin, as does me and Sammy and Ellie. Jackie, Robin and Jonathan works at the docks and Chloe and Molly helps Mrs Hudson in her store. Mycroft works at the library. He buys us food before he comes home... and he teaches us school stuff."
"But you can't live alone..."Lestrade said,"you need to go to school, and to have a family...you could live in foster families, you would have a better life like that..."
The children looked at him as if he was mad. Sherlock pulled his sleeve and as he looked down at the boy, Lestrade saw that he was looking almost angry.
"But they would separate us Sergeant Lestrade..."he whispered,"we want to live here, together."
Lestrade tried to talk to them, he suggested that he could call social service, but at that Mycroft had forced him to leave, claiming that they should go to bed.
Lestrade left the house and started to walk back home. His head was full of thoughts, the children had told him more about their life. All of them had lived on the streets a long time. Sammy and Ellie for one year, and all the others for at least two years. Sherlock and Mycroft had been on the streets the longest, Sherlock hadn't been more than three years old when their father threw them out.
The next day he got back to the house, he had earlier called the social service and they were with him. But as they got inside the house, it was empty. The bunk beds didn't have any sheets in them, and the bookshelves was empty.
The only thing left in the house was a few old tin cans and a note. The note lay in one of the bunk beds. Lestrade picked it up.
'I told you we didn't want to leave' it read, in the sprawling writing style of a young child.
It took two years before he saw any of the children again.