Author's Note: Sorry for the small delay. Although, it occurred to me: Imagine if circumstances caused me to no longer finish the story. Sherlock and Mycroft would be on their way to a children's home. Jack would be screaming and fighting against several officers. Our funny man with the bowtie would be on his way to jail. Mr. Holmes would be triumphant. Well, we can't have that, now can we?
Chapter Twenty Six
Sherlock was tired but he couldn't risk closing his eyes. An infant was wailing on the other side of the room. Sherlock growled out in frustration. Couldn't anybody do something?
The boys had been taken to a large stone building, which had reminded Sherlock of a hospital. Instead of individual rooms, however, there were two large wings with beds and bunks lined up along the walls. One wing was for younger children and the other was for teenagers.
Sherlock and Mycroft had stayed together until bedtime. His brother had assured him that everything was going to be fine, before entering his own wing. To Sherlock's horror, the door to both wings had been locked. The matron explained that it was to keep runaways from running. It was as if she knew what Sherlock had been thinking. The infant's crying pierced the air. Several other boys hissed and groaned. It was crying and nobody was doing anything.
Sherlock finally stood up and crossed to the cot. He had to stand on his tiptoes to see the wailing infant. Sherlock tried to think of everything that Mycroft would do.
"Hey," Sherlock hissed, "It's quite rude to interrupt a person's sleep."
The infant continued to cry and Sherlock murmured, "Oh hush! I don't want to be here anymore than you do. You don't hear me crying."
He wanted to. His throat ached with the longing to cry. But he didn't. So if he could resist the urge to cry, surely this infant could. And yet, Sherlock understood.
"I know," Sherlock murmured, "I want to go home, too. Not my house. That place is boring. Back to the Tardis. Back to the universe."
That gave him an idea. Thinking like Mycroft wasn't getting him anywhere. Why not think like the Doctor? What would the Doctor do?
Sherlock leaned forward and whispered, "I want to open my eyes and see the stars unfold before me. You would like them; the stars. They're nothing like the smoggy dots outside. You don't know what you're missing. Dark blues and light blues and different shades of purple and green and yellow and pink and red and orange. All of the colors swirled together to make one large universe. That's where I belong."
The infant had stopped and was staring at him with an intense curiosity.
"I belong with the Doctor," Sherlock continued, "You'd like him, too. He's a funny man with a bowtie. Only, he's so much more than that. He's a Time Lord. Last of his kind. The protector of the universe. He protects those stars."
The infant was now peacefully sleeping. Sherlock gave it a lopsided smile.
Now that the room was silent, Sherlock was able to deduce everything. The matron who was in charge of watching over them had snuck outside. Judging by her stained teeth and fingernails, Sherlock supposed that she was a secret smoker. She had a small office, which was now unsupervised. Sherlock raced in and spotted a telephone. He remembered the number that had popped up on the Caller ID yesterday. He quickly punched it in.
"Hello?"
"J…Jack?" Sherlock managed.
"Sherlock," Jack's voice was gentle and calm, "Where did they take you?"
"I'm…I'm in a building," Sherlock stammered.
"Can you be a bit more specific?" Jack patiently asked.
Sherlock composed himself before explaining, "It's a children's home."
As if on cue, another infant began to wail.
"I hate it here, Jack," Sherlock burst out, "There's children everywhere."
"That tends to be the definition of a children's home," Jack said, almost teasingly.
Sherlock hoped that Jack could hear the sourness in his voice as he snapped, "The pyjamas are scratchy and the bed is lumpy and there are infants crying and the potato soup was disgusting and I don't want to be here!"
"Alright," Jack soothingly said, "Take it easy, Sherlock. At least you're safe."
"Safe?" Sherlock repeated, horrified.
"Where's Mycroft?" Jack calmly continued.
Sherlock frowned. How could Jack be so calm, when Sherlock felt like screaming at the top of his lungs? He took a deep breath and whispered, "He's in the other wing—the one for teenagers, b… but the door is locked and…I…I don't have the key. Jack, where are you? Can't you come and get us?"
"River and I are both at the police-station," Jack hesitantly explained. Sherlock drew a sharp breath and Jack quickly continued, "Hey; it's okay. We're in the lobby. The Doctor is being held in one of the cells."
"But he didn't do anything wrong!" Sherlock cried.
"I know," Jack quickly agreed.
"So break him out," Sherlock pleaded, his voice cracking, "Have River blast the guards and use your vortex-manipulators to come get us."
"Ah…Sherlock," River's voice now, "You don't know how much I want to."
"But it would only make things worse," Jack sadly finished, "You said it yourself: the Doctor didn't do anything wrong. Breaking out of prison and breaking two children out of a children's home might constitute as doing something wrong."
"I guess," Sherlock mumbled, though he still thought that it would be worth it.
"Fortunately," Jack continued, "We know people. A lot of people. We managed to get the court-date jumped up to tomorrow morning."
"Court-date?" Sherlock repeated, "There's going to be a trial?"
"Sort of," Jack hesitantly said, "Don't worry; it's going to be quick."
"And then," River spoke up, "The five of us can get back to the Tardis."
"Where is the Tardis?" Sherlock asked.
"Sitting right next to us," River brightly said.
Sherlock strained and could make out the familiar sound of the humming, "You brought the Tardis into the police-station?"
"I was insistent," River explained.
Sherlock nearly smiled at the thought of River insisting on something.
"Now," Jack gently said, "Go find Mycroft and then try to get some sleep. It is way past your bedtime."
Sherlock rolled his eyes at the last statement and muttered, "I told you…the door is locked and I don't know where the key is!"
"I didn't think that a locked door could stop Sherlock Holmes," River cried, as if amused by the thought.
Sherlock finally smiled and said, "Alright. I'll try."
"Don't worry," Jack repeated, "We'll see you tomorrow."
"And what happens if something goes wrong?" Sherlock challenged, in a smaller voice than he had hoped, "What if…"
"If anything goes wrong," River promptly said, "Then I promise that I will blast every single person in London until we can get to the two of you. Alright?"
"Alright," Sherlock said, slightly relieved by the narcissistic promise, "Is the Doctor allowed to have a phone-call?"
"Sorry, no," Jack sadly said.
"Oh," Sherlock sighed before asking, "Can you tell him that I said goodnight?"
"Well, I'm not sure that…"
"GOODNIGHT SHERLOCK! TELL MYCROFT THAT I SAID GOODNIGHT!"
Sherlock finally managed to laugh. Good old Time Lord hearing.
"Goodnight, Sherlock," Jack chuckled, "Sleep tight."
"Don't let the alien parasites bite," River teased.
Sherlock glumly hung up. He glanced around to ensure that the other children were asleep before looking up at a vent in the ceiling. It was above a spare bunk. Sherlock bounded up the ladder, fighting the fear of falling, and pulled the grate aside. He slipped through the dusty vent and began to crawl. At long last, he carefully pulled aside another grate. Unfortunately, this grate was not above a bunk. Sherlock squinted and could see Mycroft sitting up in his bed.
"Mycroft," Sherlock whispered, "Mycroft!"
Mycroft looked up and calmly said, "Hullo, Sherlock. What took you so long?"
Sherlock frowned and hissed, "Get me down!"
Mycroft crept over and Sherlock leapt into his arms. He hugged Sherlock, who pulled away and gave his brother an annoyed look.
"My apologies," Mycroft smoothly said, "It seemed like the proper thing to do."
The two crossed over to his bed, ignoring the angry hisses from the other boys.
"I called Jack and River," Sherlock quickly whispered.
Mycroft looked relieved and said, "Where are they? Are they alright?"
"They're in jail," Sherlock said with a snort, "Or at least at the jail. The Doctor is being held and they're waiting in the lobby. They said that we're going to go to a trial?"
"When?" Mycroft worriedly asked.
"In the morning," Sherlock said.
"Wow," Mycroft remarked, slightly impressed, "I guess the two of them really do have connections with high people. Did you talk to the Doctor?"
"No," Sherlock sighed, before wryly smiling and adding, "But he screamed goodnight."
Mycroft laughed and Sherlock continued, "River and Jack sounded so…calm. It's like they didn't even care."
"Sherlock," Mycroft sighed, "It's not that they don't care. They were probably freaking out. But I bet they made themselves calmer so that you could stay calm. I do it all the time."
"Really?" Sherlock looked perplexed, "For how long?"
"Mm," Mycroft pretended to think about it before saying, "Around eight years."
"Oh," Sherlock mumbled.
The two brothers sat in silence for a good period of time.
Finally, Sherlock whispered, "Mycroft?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm scared."
Mycroft reached over and put an arm around Sherlock's shoulders. He tensed before finally accepting the embrace and leaning against Mycroft.
Mycroft glanced out the window, towards the smoggy stars, and muttered, "So am I."
() () ()
"Time to wake up, dears."
Mycroft and Sherlock both gave a start. They were still sitting upright, Mycroft's arm still protectively wrapped around Sherlock's shoulders. They had barely gotten to sleep and now they were blinking up at a kind matron.
Mycroft and Sherlock realized that they had been caught. The former guiltily said, "I'm sorry; this is my brother. He just wanted to…"
The matron smiled and whispered, "It's alright. I completely understand."
"What time is it?" Mycroft murmured, realizing that the others were still sleeping.
"A quarter past five," she kindly explained, "I have taken the liberty of picking out clothes for you to wear. You're due downstairs in fifteen minutes."
Mycroft and Sherlock washed up in the bathroom sink and put on the nice suits. Sherlock fumbled with his tie until he nearly suffocated himself. Mycroft helped him and Sherlock angrily muttered, "I wish that we had bowties."
"That would cheer the Doctor up," Mycroft agreed.
They then anxiously descended the stairs. The kind matron was nice enough to wish them luck and handed them a stack of toast wrapped in a napkin. She then led them outside where a cab was waiting. The ride to the courthouse was a quick and silent one. An officer met them and curtly led them inside.
"I don't understand," Sherlock whispered, falling into step next to his brother. He began subconsciously mimicking Mycroft's every movements; the adjustment of his tie, the scratch of his ear, the fumble over the rug, "Why are we here?"
"Sherlock," Mycroft hissed, "I'm sick of explaining this."
"Well, I'm not sick of hearing it," Sherlock retorted, "So explain why we're here! The Doctor didn't kidnap us!"
His words rang through the entire corridor.
"Brilliant," Mycroft whispered, "Say it a bit louder. Maybe the judge will believe you."
Sherlock stopped and through gritted teeth asked, "Why…are…we…here?"
"Why do you keep asking that?"
"BECAUSE I DON'T UNDERSTAND!" Sherlock bellowed.
"Has anyone ever told you that volume of your voice follows an irregular pattern when you're upset?" Mycroft teased.
"What irregular pattern?" Sherlock hissed as they hurried to catch up with the officer.
"Precisely," Mycroft curtly said, "Now, behave."
"You behave," Sherlock muttered.
"I asked you first."
"I asked you second.
"Sherlock."
"Mycroft!"
Mycroft sighed and Sherlock smugly said, "Oh, you knew that was coming!"
Once again, he stopped walking, frustrated to no end. The officer continued walking, too tired and careless to realize that the boys were no longer following.
"Wrong," he whispered, "Wrong, wrong, wrong…"
"I'm really going to regret this," Mycroft groaned, "Why are you repeatedly whispering the word 'wrong'?"
"Because they're wrong!" Sherlock cried.
"Who is wrong?"
"Everyone! Father's wrong and the officers who arrested the Doctor are wrong and the matrons at the children's house are wrong! Wrong, WRONG, WRONG!"
He rapidly spun around as he said the last three words. Mycroft gave him a reprimanding look but deep down, he knew why Sherlock was so upset; why he was so confused. Sherlock couldn't understand how anybody could be that wrong. He couldn't understand how anybody could confuse the Doctor for a ruthless kidnapper and their father for a sainted parent. They were wrong. They were all wrong and Sherlock couldn't understand why nobody else saw that. Sherlock certainly didn't live in a world that was black and white—in fact, he was smart enough to deduce just about every shade of silver and gray between black and white—but he still didn't know why the brothers had to go through all of this for no reason. They were wrong. Wrong. And that was enough to irritate, confuse, and frighten Sherlock. The fact that they could face such a serious consequence because somebody was wrong…
Sherlock continued to rapidly spin around and Mycroft sharply said, "Sherlock, knock it off. You're going to make yourself sick."
Sherlock completely ignored him. A blast suddenly hit the rug near his feet. Sherlock yelped out and leapt back. Mycroft caught him, also shocked.
"Sorry," River brightly said, coming up the corridor, "You were unraveling."
"River!"
"River!"
The boys were both embarrassed by their exciting outbursts, but it was a relief to see her.
She gave them a gentle smile and pocketed her blaster.
"You brought a blaster into a courthouse?" Mycroft asked.
"Turn me in," River said with a shrug, "You can attend my trial after we sit through my husband's."
Mycroft and Sherlock both smiled at that.
"Where's Jack?" Sherlock curiously asked.
"I don't know," River sighed, "He had his 'don't-worry-River-I've-got-this' look which either means that he's going to save us all or the universe is going to collapse."
Although she remained nonchalant, River stayed by their side, even when they entered the courtroom. The three sat on the very first spectator bench. Mr. Holmes was standing at the prosecutor's table, wearing his best suit. The Doctor was squirming around at the defendant's table, sporting an orange jumpsuit. Both were defending themselves.
"Doctor!" Sherlock spoke up.
"Ssh," River quickly whispered but the bailiff still heard.
He gave Sherlock a putrid smile and said, "Well, well…we don't want to cause a mistrial now, do we?"
Sherlock glared at him and the Doctor sadly stared forward.
He then hesitated before whispering, "One."
Mycroft, Sherlock, and River glanced at each other, confused.
"One. Two. Three."
They were still confused.
"Five."
Sherlock's face broke out into a smile as he understood. Mycroft couldn't believe that he had remembered. Well, of course had had. He was, after all, the Doctor.
The Doctor softly continued, "8, 13, 21, 34, 55, 89, 144…"
"Hey," the bailiff snapped, "What're you doing?"
"Counting," the Doctor innocently said.
The bailiff suspiciously frowned before saying, "Please state your name for the records."
"The Doctor."
The bailiff was not impressed and snapped, "Your real name."
"The Doctor."
"State your first and last name!"
"First name: The. Last name: Doctor!"
The bailiff gave him a nasty look before drawling, "All rise. The Honorable Judge Harkness presiding."
"The Honorable Captain Judge…Jack…Harkness," Jack corrected, taking his place as the others took their seats, "There's a Captain in there somewhere!"
"What?" Mycroft's jaw fell open and he whispered, "When did Jack become a judge?"
Jack looked offended at the remark and cried, "I'll have you know that I am one of the most esteemed judges in Europe!"
He showed his psychic paper and winked. Mycroft stifled a chuckle.
"The better question is," Sherlock whispered, "Why is he wearing a powdered-wig?"
"Powdered-wigs are cool," the Doctor exclaimed, hearing the boys' conversation.
They snickered and Jack lightly said, "Here, Doctor."
He took off his wig and tossed it over. The Doctor fondly put it on. It was immediately blasted off, courtesy of River.
"Oi," Jack banged his gavel and tried to pass off a stern demeanor as he said, "One more blast like that and I'm throwing you out of my courtroom."
She laughed and teased, "I'd like to see you try."
"So would I," Sherlock, Mycroft, and the Doctor both muttered.
The Doctor then glanced at the charred wig and whined, "One day you're going to end up blasting the bowtie off."
"Wouldn't be the first time that I blasted your clothes off," River teased.
"Whoa," Mycroft cried, fighting back several visions, "Did not need to hear that."
"Why?" Sherlock asked, confused, "What does that mean?"
"Anyway," the Doctor loudly cried, his cheeks red.
"No, I think that I'm going to allow this," Jack mused, "Continue, River. With as many explicit details as possible…"
"You wish," River said with a smirk.
"CAN WE PLEASE GET A MOVE ON?" Mr. Holmes shouted.
"Spoilsport," Jack muttered, "In the case of Mr. Holmes verses The Doctor, I find in favor of the defendant."
"What?" Mr. Holmes shouted, "You can't do that!"
"I just did."
"Your Honor," Mr. Holmes spluttered, "This is…this is outrageous! Can you please hear the evidence?"
Jack muttered something quite rude and then said, "Strike that from the record."
He glanced at the court reporter and boldly added, "Well, hello…"
"No!" Mycroft warned.
The Doctor also shouted, "Jack, this is serious!"
"Don't make me blast you," River warned.
"JudgeCaptainJackHarknes," Jack finished in one breath.
"Can I blast him?" Mycroft wearily sighed.
"Absolutely not!" River cried, shocked, "You're a minor! And there are far too many witnesses here. Wait until we get back to the Tardis, alright?"
"Deal," Mycroft grinned.
The next hour was a tedious one. Sherlock and Mycroft eventually dozed off. After all, the two had barely gotten any sleep last night. They only jolted awake when Mr. Holmes screamed, "I never gave you consent to take my boys away!"
"No," the Doctor quietly said, "But your wife did."
Mr. Holmes' eyes widened and he cried, "That's impossible. My wife is dead."
"And I'm a Time Lord," the Doctor slowly said, "With a box that conveniently allows me to go back to a time when she wasn't dead."
"Time Lord," Mr. Holmes spluttered, "Your Honor, do you believe this nonsense?"
"Every word," Jack replied.
"I have proof," the Doctor continued, "It's right in the pocket of my coat."
The bailiff started forward and Jack quickly said, "Just bring me the coat. I will personally retrieve it."
The bailiff shrugged and complied. Jack tried to smoothly reach into the pocket. His entire arm disappeared as he tried to feel around for the paper. The Doctor gave him a guilty look and Jack finally pulled out the piece of paper and read it aloud:
"I, Mrs. Elizabeth Holmes hereby give my sons, Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes, full permission to join the Doctor in his travels. During that time, the Doctor shall be responsible for my children, acting as an unofficial legal guardian."
Their mother's signature was at the bottom.
Mycroft suddenly remembered a conversation that he had once had with his father, several years ago. He had been wondering what would happen to him and his brother, should anything ever happen to Mr. Holmes. It seemed a bit ironic that, at the time, Mycroft had been afraid that he and Sherlock would wind up in a children's home.
"Oh, your mother assigned somebody to look after you," Mr. Holmes had absentmindedly remarked, "A doctor of some sorts."
Mycroft now laughed as he realized what this meant.
"Is it good?" Sherlock anxiously asked.
"It's very good, Sherlock," Jack said with a smile, "That's all the proof that I need to say that the Doctor did not kidnap the two of you."
Mr. Holmes looked horrified and cried, "No! NO! That's fake! He's never met my wife!"
"I have," the Doctor calmly said, "She's a wonderful woman."
"When?" Mr. Holmes challenged, "When did you meet her?"
The Doctor smartly told him the date and Mr. Holmes boomed, "Aha! Liar! You couldn't have met her on that day! She was in the hospital! She…hang on…that's the day that she…"
Mr. Holmes trailed off and Mycroft quietly spoke up, "Once again, the Doctor was there when you weren't."
"You can't talk to him," the bailiff spoke up.
"No, I'm going to allow this," Jack thoughtfully spoke up, "But do refrain from throwing any punches, Mycroft. Let somebody else have a chance this time."
Mycroft smirked at that and realized that he probably was third or fourth in line when it came to wanting to punch Mr. Holmes.
"What…what are you talking about?" Mr. Holmes snapped, completely ignoring Jack and now looking confused and slightly afraid.
"The Doctor was there when you weren't," Mycroft repeated, "A few weeks ago, I asked the Doctor to take me back so that I could be with Mum when she…"
A memory of Mrs. Holmes in the hospital bed resurfaced. And since the Doctor couldn't put a hand on Mycroft's shoulder, River surprisingly did it for him.
"That's impossible! You couldn't have been there!"
Mr. Holmes suddenly looked extremely thoughtful as he turned back to the Doctor.
Perhaps he was remembering the funny man in the bowtie who had to sadly give him the news that his wife had passed. Perhaps he was remembering the smell of the crisps or the fact that one of the nurses commented on the visitors that his wife had had.
He slowly raised his hand to his jaw and whispered, "It…it wasn't a dream…"
Mycroft's eyes widened as he realized what he had just admitted.
"Yeah," River whispered, "Not good."
A fierce fury light up Mr. Holmes eyes as he glanced at Mycroft, "You… it wasn't a dream…you punched me…you…"
He leapt forward and River instinctively positioned herself in front of the boys, readying her blaster. Jack leapt right over the judge's stand but the Doctor got to Mr. Holmes first. He grabbed the man and for a split second, Sherlock and Mycroft could see the fiery hate in the Time Lord's eyes. The Doctor could be one of the kindest beings in the universe and he could usually show a good amount of restraint; unless children were being threatened.
The fury of the universe seemed to be unleashed in the Doctor's eyes and that both terrified and amazed the two brothers. They were reminded of the first time that Mr. Holmes met the Doctor. Their father had yelled at Sherlock to look him in the eye. The Doctor had furiously remarked that if Mr. Holmes had wanted to look somebody in the eye, why not look into the Doctor's eyes? And right now, Mr. Holmes gazed into the Doctor's eyes. And he didn't like what he was seeing. He staggered backwards, giving River the perfect opportunity to pull the trigger and blast him onto his back.
"If you ever threaten Sherlock and Mycroft again," the Doctor warned but he was too furious to even finish his threat.
"That's…assault," Mr. Holmes spluttered, "Assault!"
"I saw self defence," Jack lightly said, "What about you, bailiff?"
"Yesssir," the bailiff surprisingly said, "He was just protecting those boys."
Jack cheerfully went back over to the stand and said, "I am hereby dropping all of the charges on the Doctor and reinstating that Sherlock and Mycroft can travel with him."
He leaned over to the court reporter, "And I'm picking you up in two hours for dinner."
She flushed but said, "I'm married!"
"And I'm Captain Jack Harkness," Jack said with a grin, "Judge Captain Jack Harkness."
He banged the gavel and suddenly the Doctor was pulling Sherlock and Mycroft into a tight hug, which they happily returned. It turned into a clumsy group hug as River and Jack joined in.
"Ooh, that reminds me!" Jack cried, grabbing his cellphone, "Doctor, I believe that this belongs to you!"
He pushed a button and suddenly the Tardis crashed through the wall, landing besides them. Sherlock and Mycroft beamed up at the box. Mr. Holmes' jaw dropped.
"Yeah," Sherlock smugly said, "It wasn't a dream."
The Doctor laughed and brought Sherlock up onto his shoulders, draping his other arm around Mycroft's shoulders.
"T…t…that's…impossible," Mr. Holmes whispered.
"Not as impossible as this," Sherlock said, snapping her fingers. To his delight, the door sprang open, revealing the inside. Mr. Holmes kept spluttering something quite unintelligent.
The bailiff finally managed to stutter, "S…y…you're…you're…a…f.f..f…family?"
"Yeah," Sherlock thoughtfully said, "I suppose we are."
Mycroft also looked thoughtful as he said, "After all, we've got the mother-figure, the father-figure, the children, a Tardis…"
The Doctor smiled at that and asked, "Who can ask for a better home?"
"…we even have a weird, perverted, uncle who pops in uninvited!"
He gestured to Jack who grinned, perfectly content with that title.
The Doctor laughed and teasingly said, "Come on. Let's go home."