Isabell Holmes walked into the waiting room feeling a lot better. Her Uncle always did have a way of making her feel better. He always knew what to say. It was almost as if he could read her mind.
They had gone to visit a friend of his. They had a plan. A plan to help her parents. Then he bought her a new art pad and a box of crayons. She was really into drawing and thought about being an artist when she was grown.
Mycroft took the children to John's room. He was surprised to see John was alone. He expected someone to be there with him. He was sitting up in bed reading a book.
"Dad!" Isabell said with a smile climbing into the bed.
"Izzy," John said setting the book down. "How are you?"
"Fine," She said pulling the art pad out of her bag. "I drew you a picture."
She opened the pad to a picture of flowers. well. They were supposed to be flowers. If John turned his head to the left he could see them.
"Thank you honey," he said kissing her head. "Were you good for Mycroft?"
"Of course," she said putting the pad away.
"Little angels," Mycroft said sitting down with Wisteria. "They're good kids. Wheres Sherlock?"
"Getting me some good food," John explained. "He'll be back any minute."
"Has mother been by?" Mycroft questioned.
"No," John said frowning. "I haven't heard from her now that you mention it."
"I'll call her," he said getting up. "Can you handle the children until Sherlock gets here. I need to get to the office."
"Of course," John said holding out his good arm. "Give me my baby."
Mycroft laid the child down against her father. Isabell smiled curling her against her father and sister.
"I'll see you next Friday," Mycroft said. "I'm taking Isabell to see her new school."
Avenue House School was the school Mycroft got her into. It was a small school and seemed to a bit too much for John. She was already in but some paper work needed to be filled out. It was nearly ten thousand pounds a year. John didn't see why she needed to be in such a school in kindergarten but Mycroft had insisted. A Holmes gets a first rate education.
He had also signed her up for individual violin lessons through the school. That was another two hundred pounds an hour. He was going to buy the violin himself.
"Thanks for that," John said.
He knew on his pay he couldn't get Isabell into those schools or pay for the lessons. Sherlock and Mycroft didn't believe anything was too good for the children.
Mycroft left without another word leaving John alone with his thoughts.
"Dad?" Isabell asked in a small voice.
"Yes baby," he said looking down at her.
"Everything is going to be OK," she said. "Everything is going to be fine."
John didn't know what to say to that. He just decided to let it be. Just relax and enjoy life. That was what his mother had always taught him.
The door to the room opened and Sherlock walked in with a bag of food for John.
"Hi everyone," he said setting the food down on the table. "I saw Mycroft on my way in. He told me he left the kids with you. Come on Isabell. Let's go home and let Daddy rest."
Isabell looked at her Dad for long moment. She didn't really want to go home but she knew she had to. She climbed off the bed and held her bag close.
Sherlock walked over to the bed and picked up Wisteria. The child wrapped her arms around his neck.
"Hungy," the little girl whined.
"I'll take the kids home and feed them," Sherlock said. "Take it easy John."
John smiled before returning to his book.
Sherlock stopped off and bought a pizza for the kids. He put Isabell at the table and Wisteria in her high chair.
"You two eat and behave," Sherlock said turning his attention to the mess that was the sitting room. "I need to pick this place up."
Sherlock really couldn't stand to look at the mess that had caused the fight between him and his husband. The sight of the blood on the carpet was almost too much for him.
It didn't take as long as he expected it to. The kids were just finishing up eating when he finished cleaning the blood up. He had really sunk into the carpet.
"Papa," Isabell said. "Can you read us a story?"
"Of course," Sherlock said. "Go get a book and I'll read it to you."
Isabell ran up the stairs to her bedroom. Sherlock picked up Wisteria and sat down on the couch with her. He really was having a hard time figuring out Isabell. She had seemed almost afraid of him earlier but now she was fine. Strange girl.
She was really starting to grow up. She had long almost black hair that was naturally curly. Her bright blues eyes were so bright they often left people speechless. She looked so much like him but at the same time he knew who else she look liked.
When she saw a baby he hadn't seen Moriarty in her but every day it was coming out more and more. It was coming out in her intelligence as well. That child was too smart for her own good. She had started trying to memorize the periodic table at three. She had most of them down.
He promised himself it would never bother him but deep down it did. Emotions were still fairly new to him and he had a hard time understanding them sometimes.
Wisteria was easier. She was curious and seemed smart but there was no bagage with her.
Little Isabell walked into the living room holding the book she had choose. It was a fiction series about kids who discover a secret world of dinosaurs.
Both children crawled into his lap and got ready to hear the story.
He wasn't very far into it before both children were asleep. After all they both had a long day. He put Wisteria to bed first and next he carried Isabell up.
As he covered her up and put Mrs. Moo, her stuffed cow, under the blankets the child stirred.
"Papa," she said softly. "Do you love me?"
"Of course darling," he said kneeling next to the bed. "I love you, Daddy, and Wisteria."
"Why didn't my real Daddy and Mummy love me?" she questioned. "Why did they give me away?"
Little Isabell already knew you needed a Mummy and Daddy to have a baby. She knew her and her sister were adopted. He knew the day would come when she would start to ask about it. He just didn't expect it to be so soon.
"I'm sure they loved you very much," Sherlock said. "Maybe they just weren't ready for a baby."
"I guess," she said even though she wasn't really happy with the answer. She relaxed into the bed. "Goodnight Papa."
"Goodnight baby," he said flicking on the nightlight and the baby monitor.
Sherlock wondered down to his and John's bedroom. Normally he would have stayed up on the computer or watched telly. That night all he wanted to do was sleep.