Sherlock kept his eyes closed as he tried to escape to his mind palace. He had used it many times before to escape from the tragedy that was his life. It had gotten him disconnected from life many times before; ranging from parents fighting to fights in the underground. He didn't hear the small child walk into his make shift room.
"Who are you?" The little boy asked suddenly, standing in front of Sherlock in his footie pyjamas. "Are you the man that mummy and daddy are fightin' about?"
Sherlock's eyes opened as he heard the voice, looking down at him. He was only as tall as the door knob. He was a 4-year-old kid who just happened to show up where Sherlock was. "I'm Sherlock Holmes. And yes, I am. I'm going to be staying with you for a while."
Lewis pursed his lips, crossing his arms over his chest. "Are you another one of mummy's friends?" He asked knowingly. " 'Cause mummy have lots of friends who come over, but none of them stay over." He shook his head and climbed up onto the bed, sitting next to Sherlock.
Of course, the genius was completely blanking. He had no idea how to deal with or talk to a child. He didn't have any younger siblings, and he never socialized with much of anyone. "I'm not one of mummy's friends, no. I'm a friend of your daddy's." Sherlock scooted a bit away from the boy, not knowing much else.
He nodded and shrugged. "That's okay. Daddy needs friends. He lonely sometimes," he said, putting his hands out and palms up as if to say, "It is what it is."
Sherlock only just noticed the stuffed animal in his hands. "What's that?" He recognized what it was, but forgot what it was from. It had been way too long. He was hoping that he'd bore the child to the point where it'd leave him alone and in peace. He flinched at more of the yells that were echoing through the home. Lewis seemed to be unaffected by them, seen as he had to deal with it on a daily basis.
"It's an Add-ie-pose," he said slowly, shoving it in Sherlock's face. "It's from Doct-ah Who." He smiled widely, like this was an accomplishment all in its own.
Sherlock scrunched up his nose and pushed it away slowly. It was discolored in many places, and there were a few seams that were broken. "That's nice..." He trailed off, looking around. "So, do you like Doctor Who?"
It was like Sherlock had just pulled the trigger on a huge explosion. "I love Doct-ah Who!" The little boy exclaimed, standing up on the bed and jumping around, chanting that simple phrase over and over. He put emphasis on each word with each jump.
Sherlock stood off the bed, watching as some of the pillows jumped off the bed and the bed spread was moved around. "Yes, yes- That's grea-" He tried to say, but the boy kept going. "Could you ple-" He eventually gave up and grabbed the kid midair, placing him on the floor.
Lewis squealed loudly, laughing as he was set down. "Again! Again!" He giggled, jumping up and down. "Please?! That was so fun!" He climbed back onto the bed and kept going, waiting for Sherlock to pick him up.
Sherlock cocked his head to the side and watched him, a small smile forming on his face. He didn't know that he would enjoy it so much, and his laughing made him happy for some reason. He'd have to research that later. "Of course I will." He reached up and grabbed Lewis, spinning them around once before setting him down. "Was that time fun?"
The little boy screeched loudly and nodded, grinning up at the tall man. "Yeah, yeah, yeah!" He laughed loudly. "You so much fun!"
This went on for a few more times, his small smile growing larger. Both of the boys forgot about the fighting that went on downstairs, not even noticing the sound of a plate crashing to the floor. Sherlock never had a little brother, and his older was always resentful of him. He never had a chance to play with children before.
Lewis laid down on the bed after a few times, yawning as he stared up at the tall man. "I'm tired. Carry me to bed," he demanded sleepily, his arms lazily raised in the air. Sherlock smiled softly and grabbed him off of it, walking him towards the Doctor Who room.
Sherlock saw Mrs. Lestrade storm into her bedroom, slamming the door loudly. It made both the child and the adult jump a bit. He settled Lewis into his bed, covering him in stuffed animals.
Lewis giggled, his eyelids half drawn. "Thank you, Mister Sherlock. You fun. Way more fun than dada." He said it softly, starting to fall asleep.
"You're welcome, Lewis. Sleep well."
Sherlock turned off the lights and left the room quietly, heading back to his own. He was definitely in a better mood. Lewis was obviously rarely played with, and rarely cared about by his parents. He enjoyed having the play mate.
He settled back into his own room, changing into his pyjamas now. It seemed like a nice time to get into bed. He looked at the small alarm clock that rested on the dressers. 20:38. He peeled back the covers and got underneath the heavy comforter, liking the weight it gave. He curled up tightly on the mattress. It had been a very long time since he had slept in an actual bed, under an actual roof.
He fell asleep soon afterwards, the day's events catching up to him.
{=-=}
Gregory grabbed a blanket out of the small linen closet in the laundry room, grabbing throw pillows off of the sofas and the chairs. He was kicked out of the bedroom, yet again. Lauren would forgive him soon enough, and he'd be back up there the next night.
He settled on the too familiar feeling of the sofa cushions, making sure to get as comfortable as he could. He laid the blanket on top of him and closed his eyes, hoping to god that he'd get a decent amount of rest.
Tomorrow morning, he was taking Sherlock out to get clothing for himself so he didn't have to borrow the DI's. After that, they were headed to Scotland Yard. Sure, Sally and Dimmock didn't like Sherlock, but it wasn't their business.
Sherlock was Scotland Yard material. He was arrogant. He was smart. He was annoying. He was completely excellent. He had all that it took to even qualify for a spot on the force.
Lestrade shuffled around a bit in the mound of pillows, yawning. Soon enough, he was asleep in the dark living room.
{=-=}
Sherlock woke up several times during the night to the new noises of the foreign house. There was the sound of the boiler, the heater, and new sounds of cars on the paved road. He was used to the drips of water, the sounds of cars high above, and people fighting.
He finally decided to stop trying to sleep around six in the morning, sitting up in his bed as he looked around. The room was fairly boring and he had nothing to do. They'd need to get him some books and just a few things that he needed.
He hoped that experiments wouldn't be frowned upon.
It baffled Sherlock that these two people were married with a son. They obviously didn't love each other like they should, and they acted as if their son was more of a chore. It was obvious. Sherlock actually liked Lewis a lot. He reminded him of himself when he was younger. He loved to play around and have fun, but in the household he had grown up in, he didn't have much time to do so.
Sherlock found himself lulling back to sleep after a while, laying back down on the bed and curling up tightly on himself. He slowly drifted back off into the wonderful unconsciousness that was sleep.
