February 1994
Nearly a month had past since Sherlock's birthday. He had met the children twice since. He had gone there, to make sure they stayed alive. He gave them food, and talked to them. He had met Sherlock more often. Since the boy's birthday he had seen him once or twice a week. Always at the same spot, at the tube station on his way to work. Lestrade hadn't even bothered about trying to call the social service again. He knew that the kids would be long gone before they could get there. Last time he saw them he had asked them if they wanted to come and stay at his flat. It wasn't big, but he hated the thought about them sleeping in the cold shed. All of them had immediately stopped eating and started to stare at him in silence. It was Sherlock who had spoke first.
"But Sergeant Lestrade..."he had said, "we can't do that, we would be in you way...and all of us can not sleep on the couch. It is to small, you can barely sleep there yourself!"
"How...how did you know I sleep on the couch?" Lestrade had asked curiously, the boy hadn't even been in his flat, did he even know where he lived?"You do not even know where I live!"
"Yes I do!"the boy answered" all of us do." The other children had nodded.
"But how did you know that I didn't sleep in a bed?"
"Because of your neck!"
"My neck?!"
"Yes, and your clothes" Sherlock had said exited."You hold your neck stiff, like it hurts. But you haven't been to a doctor to look it up. So you probably know why it hurts, and then your clothes are wrinkled, so you probably slept in them for a while after you got home for work today...if you had had a bed to sleep in you would have slept in it, but without your work clothes. And you have dark shadows under your eyes like you have slept badly... it could be that you have a bad bed, but no... last time you were here it looked like you had slept fine... and yesterday I saw that you bought a new bed... you wouldn't do that if you didn't absolutely need to, so your old bed is broken. Since then you have slept on the couch, and it is uncomfortable and too short and there for your neck is stiff."
"Wow Sherlock..." Lestrade had said surprised at the boy's deduction."...that was...wow..."
Lestrade had left the house about an hour later. He hadn't been able to convince the children to come to his flat.
Now it was two weeks since he had seen them, and he decided to go back to the shed, and ask them again if they wanted to come. His bed had arrived now and if they wanted he would let them sleep in his flat, at least until Mycroft got a better work and they could hire one by their own.
As he got to the shed the door was open, and inside it looked like someone had left in a hurry. Newspapers and tin cans was all over the place and in one of the corners was a forgotten blanket. Lestrade walked inside and picked up a note that lay on the floor. He read it and chuckled a little, the children, or maybe Sherlock had outsmarted him again.
'I did tell you we didn't want to come...'
Although Lestrade looked for the kids and asked other homeless, and the social service. He didn't hear or see of them in nearly five years...