A/N: It's Irene Adler people. She's a sexy dominatrix. So she's going to say and do and drag up some inappropriate things.
Irene Adler stalked into their sitting room, looked around at the four people there and gave yet another sultry smile. Sherlock sighed, he'd really thought that he could avoid all this by having her come during Alex's match, but instead he had to deal with the drama of her arriving early…in time to meet his partner and children.
The first person she apparently decided to sink her claws into was Alex though. She sauntered closer and took his chin in her hand and looked at his face.
"My aren't you just a perfect little copy of your daddy?" she purrs. "Lovely. Just like him." She smirked and then leaned in and bent to whisper something in his ear. Sherlock stiffened, but Irene finished before he could say anything, pulling away and leaving Alex looking utterly perplexed.
"Irene, why don't you and I go have a chat in the kitch—"
She didn't let him finish. She simply turned to the playpen and peered at Johann who was standing and looking out at her with a distressed expression. He'd recently started showing concern around strangers, and Sherlock had to stop himself from going over to pick him up.
"But you're a mummy's boy," she said. "Your mother's pretty colors. Even though I suspect you're going to have those lovely cheekbones I love so much. And I do hope you have your father's brain. It's one of the best parts of him."
She straightened and Sherlock readied himself for whatever was going to come when she went after Molly. This was looking to be a cat fight, especially since Molly was probably already on the defensive about the children. Not that Irene had said anything bad really…
But when he looked at Molly he was startled to find that she had turned pale and was staring at Irene with wide eyes. Did she already have some idea who this was? Of course, Sherlock wanted to immediately correct her misconceptions if she did. John had dramatized the whole affair with Irene Adler and made it sound like he'd had some sort of relationship with her. Which of course was far from true, and he knew how silly people could be about this sort of thing. Perhaps he should…
"What are you doing here?" Molly whispered.
And Sherlock sighed and readied himself to launch into an explanation, only to have Irene beat him to it.
"Sherlock asked me to come," she said. "Said he needed help with a dear mutual friend of ours. I was more than happy to be of assistance." Her mouth curved upwards. "But I didn't know you were going to be here. You do make lovely babies with Sherlock, I'll give you that. But I would have thought he'd go for something a little more…" she looked Molly up and down and simply smirked.
"I thought you were dead," Molly said, glancing at Sherlock.
"Not quite," she said. "You of all people should know that can be faked, Molly, darling. In fact, now that I think of it I suppose you two are maybe a bit right for each other. The two people who've helped me start again. I'm afraid Sherlock simply did a much better job of things."
Sherlock frowned and glanced at Molly again. Then looked at Alex who was still staring at Irene like she was some kind of alien.
"Alex, take Johann down to Mrs. Hudson's and stay there until Molly or I come to fetch you," he said.
Alex frowned but did as he was asked and went to scoop up his brother and head downstairs.
"Such sweet little darlings," Irene said as she went over to sit on the sofa. "Now, shall we get to our business or should we drag up things of the past?"
"I wanted to know what you meant about the two people faking your death," Sherlock said. He eyed Molly again, who still looked utterly mortified.
"Are you going to tell him, Molly? Or shall I?" Irene said with a smile.
"I helped her the first time," Molly whispered. "Christmas Eve. She…asked…sort of…I went along with it."
Sherlock stared at her. "You…" he glanced back at Irene. "But does that mean you…"
"Someone had to state the cause of death I wanted," Irene said. "That poor woman died of a heart attack and the face bashing was added after. I may misbehave, but I'm not a killer after all. Molly helped me find and procure the body and add the damage, and then write in the proper cause of death for someone like myself. But then, you'd already know Molly's capabilities in that area, wouldn't you Mr. Holmes?"
Sherlock thought back to Molly's help in making him die. "Yes I suppose. But I'm guessing you were only able to do that through blackmail which means…"
"Of course," Irene said with a smirk. "She really is delicious, isn't she Sherlock? But it really didn't take much. She was busy pining after some idiot who didn't even appreciate her. And with all that sexual frustration and anger…a little revenge on him couldn't hurt."
Molly was turning scarlet by that point.
"You did what?" Sherlock said, turning to stare at her.
"You said horrible things that evening," Molly snapped. "You went on about my small breasts and made me sound like a complete idiot when I went to all that effort to look nice and buy you a lovely gift and…I was so angry with you." She sighed. "It was wrong, I know. But I didn't want those pictures flashed around in public either. So you know, a little extra incentive of knowing I might get you back for some of that…yes Sherlock I went ahead and did it. I'm sorry. But it didn't matter in the end anyways."
"There now, the idiot came round, didn't he?" Irene purred. "I'd really have thought if it was going to be anyone you'd have settled for that cute blogger of yours, but Miss Hooper really does suit you in some ways."
"John and I weren't a couple," Sherlock said. He was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that Molly and Irene had…it simply baffled him. But she was right; he had been cruel. And Irene did know how to play people to her advantage. Everything he'd done had simply added extra incentive to Molly's decision. Honestly, he had no one to blame but himself.
"No, that's all right," Irene said. "Now, why don't we get down to business. After all, we don't have all the time in the world to chat, do we? So, why don't you just go ahead and ask me for what you want, Sherlock."
"You've been a part of Moriarty's inner circle before," Sherlock said. "I want you to do so again. I want you to go in and get information by whatever means necessary. I want to know the entire set up. I want to know what he's planning next if at all possible."
Irene sighed and crossed one of her legs, causing her skirt to ride up a little higher. "Jim won't sleep with me again."
Sherlock frowned, while Molly arched an eyebrow in disbelief.
"Yes, I've slept with him before. Sex is a power thing for him," Irene said. "Likes to know he's in control of people he feels like are a threat. For someone of my…talents and persuasion…it seemed like a good way for him to feel I was under his thumb. But I guarantee he won't again. It's not a need for him like most men. Not something he likes. It's simply one of his many sadistic practices. But I'm sure Molly could tell you all about Jim."
"We never slept together," Molly said.
"Well that's a relief," Sherlock muttered. "Can't have you sleeping with every psychopath or sociopath out there, can we?"
Molly slapped him and he managed to give an apology before turning his attention to Irene.
"His ring. Could you get in though? Work your way through some of his underlings at least?"
Irene smirked. "Of course I could. Just because I'm a dozen years older doesn't mean I don't have any talent left." She sighed and her brow creased. "However…there is the issue of…payment?"
Sherlock pursed his lips; he'd suspected this might come. "I believe you owe me a life debt that you never repaid."
Irene sighed. "Fine, if you must insist on being so boring. However…perhaps on top of that we could throw in a little…threesome?"
Sherlock stared at her hardly daring to look at Molly who most probably was turning red.
"If you can tell what someone likes, Miss Adler, you should be well aware that the prospect of having sex with one person generally doesn't excite me, so why should the prospect of two be any better?"
"I could do Molly while you watch," Irene said with a smirk. "I'd love to have her again." Her eyes traced up Molly's form.
"I'm going to make tea," Molly said. "You arrange payment, Sherlock."
He frowned, half expecting her to fuss about not wanting to do such a thing, or for her to explicitly say he wasn't allowed to be with Irene if she requested it be just the two of them. But instead she simply disappeared into the kitchen, only to sigh and head down the stairs on realizing there was no tea left.
Irene's smile disappeared the moment Molly was gone.
"You want information on him," she said. "I'm not going to get it."
"You know about it then," Sherlock said, leaning forward slightly.
"Yes," Irene replied. "Unlike many others I'm not oblivious to clear signs. But it's impossible. And I'm not dealing with Jim himself. It would be a mess. I'll infiltrate the ring for you, Sherlock. It'll take a while though, be warned. It won't be easy if I want to do it well…especially if I want to avoid arousing suspicions or putting myself in immediate danger."
Sherlock sighed. "Fine. I can't expect much more, I'm aware. After all, I know you must worry about your girlfriend back home. Wouldn't want her to lose you."
Irene's gaze softened some. "You're one to talk, Sherlock Holmes. Settled down with a partner and children. It's a different life. I may still possess my talents and my looks and anything else that might be useful, but I have a woman waiting for me at home. And I know if I make a mistake it's not just my life on the line like it used to be."
Sherlock nodded, unable to really find words to express his agreement. But she was right. Things were different with Molly and Alex and Johann.
"I will do it," Irene agreed. "But it's going to take time. And I'm not sure you have that. You've had the same problem already."
"I don't care how long it takes to get rid of Moriarty so long as he's destroyed in the end,' Sherlock said.
Irene smiled. "Then we should be able to work together perfectly."
Sherlock eyed her carefully, looking at the bracelet on her wrist in particular. "She must really be something to have caught you."
Her smile had never been brighter. "She's a good match."
"And will be understanding of what you have to do?" Sherlock asked.
"She understands my need to misbehave, yes. She does quite a bit of her own actually," Irene said. "And yours, Sherlock. She seems to suit you well. Better than I might have initially expected."
Sherlock shrugged and nodded. "She's…yes…it's different than I thought it'd be…but…nice," he finished feel a bit pathetic in his descriptions, but he wasn't like John. He didn't go around spouting poetry about anyone who made him feel the slightest bits of emotion. But Molly…he smiled at the mere thought of her.
Irene nodded. "Good. Well, I'm going to head back to my hotel and started my planning. I think I'll have to return home and come back to be honest, but all will work out if we're patient enough. I'll be in touch."
She stood and walked to the door. "Give Molly my regards, and my apologies for not staying for tea. In the future I'd prefer you were a bit more discreet with our meetings if you are amenable. I'm sure we can find some ideal means of communications."
"And the issue of payment?" Sherlock asked.
She froze in the doorway and turned to glance at him. "You're right. I owe you my life. And in return I'll help you gain back yours. Good day, Mr. Holmes."
She disappeared down the steps leaving Sherlock to think over his decision to involve her. In many ways it did seem like the right one.
Molly returned a few minutes later with some tea and biscuits.
"She left I see," she said, setting the tray down on the table and glancing at Sherlock. She kept twisting a stray bit of hair with one of her fingers, and Sherlock sighed. Best to get this over with.
"Molly," he said. "I have no qualms with your past sexual history, and I hope you realize that. I hold no old fashion notions of purity or anything else. Who you've been with doesn't matter to me."
Molly bit her lip. "I…I know I just…it's different you know. And it was because I was angry at you partly. And a bit put off of men after the whole thing with Jim fell apart…."
"I understand," Sherlock said.
"Did…did she agree to a different payment? I know you're not really…interested in anything sexual with her…but…if there's no other way I'd do it."
Sherlock looked up at her in confusion. "No, she agreed to see this as fulfilment of a debt." He hesitated. "Are you…interested in women…in general?"
Molly sighed. "No. Other than her and one girl I snogged in a drunken dare at uni I've mostly gone after men. Why? Does it bother you?"
Sherlock shrugged. "I want to ensure I'm not in the way of your true desires."
Her gaze softened and she came over to sit by him. "Of course not. I love you, Sherlock."
He hesitated. His brow furrowed as he tried to come up with a suitable reply. Really, there was no alternative. With a sigh he said the unthinkable.
"I love you too, Molly Hooper."
He could see her keeping tears at bay, though her watery smile did little to ease his worries that she might fall apart emotionally.
"Oh, Sherlock," she whispered. "You ridiculous man you. How could you ever think I'd be the slightest bit interested in her when I've got you?"
She leaned in to press a light kiss to his lips before simply engulfing him into a warm hug. Sherlock wrapped his own arms around her and squeezed her tight.
More than a year passed. Sherlock took the updates one at a time. He did his best to keep the discretion Irene had asked for. He kept his contact with Lestrade minimal while the operation was in place, aware that if the network became aware of information leaks they'd start looking for the source. He did see to it that a few more minor parts were taken out, but in the meantime he waited and allowed the information to continue being gathered.
But now he waltzed into Lestrade's office with Johann's hand in his, feeling a sense of relief as he thought about the packet he was going to be giving the detective.
Lestrade looked up from his desk when Sherlock reached the door and groaned.
"Sherlock, I've told you not to bring the kids round, we've talked about this," he sighed.
"It's not a crime scene," Sherlock said, glancing at the two year old. "And he wanted to come. And Molly's at work, so I of course was going to bring him with me."
Lestrade grumbled about it but eventually motioned to the empty chair across from him. Sherlock sat and scooped his son up to sit on his lap.
"Eh, how old is he now anyways? Always try to ask Molly if she has pictures when I see her, but sometimes she's got her hands in a cadaver so it's not exactly the right time," Lestrade said, peering closer at the boy.
"Can you tell Lestrade how old you are?" Sherlock asked his son.
Johann frowned but lifted up two fingers.
Sherlock sighed and nodded. "Two. Hard to believe. Seems like yesterday Molly was in the hospital." He reached down and ruffled the light brown curls affectionately.
"Getting to be such a big boy," Lestrade said with a smile. "Wow, just realized you're going to have a teen and a toddler at the same time. That sounds like a right mess it does."
Sherlock froze. "What?"
"Well you know, terrible twos, and then teen drama and hormones and moodiness and all that? You're in for a little adventure, Sherlock. Not your usual one either that's for sure."
He frowned and considered that. He hadn't really thought about it, but Lestrade did have a point, and even in parenting books he'd read up on the difficulties of both of those age groups.
"So, you got the packet for me then?" Lestrade said. "All the information."
"A good amount," Sherlock said. "My informant has asked for us to wait on the strike though, plan out a little bit more."
"Yeah, makes sense," Lestrade said with a nod.
Johann interrupted, pointing at Lestrade's desk and smiling.
"Dada!" he said, glancing back at his father with a grin.
Sherlock glanced in the direction of the finger, catching site of an open file with a few pictures of mangled bodies.
"Shit," Lestrade said, quickly closing the folder. "See, reasons you shouldn't bring him here."
"Oh he's seen much worse at home, I assure you," Sherlock said. "Can you say murder, Johann?"
The boy frowned and was silent. Sherlock sighed and did his best to not look as displeased as he felt.
"Molly know about that?" Lestrade said, eyeing him with a frown as he tucked a few more folders away from the toddler's eyes. "That you're letting him see gruesome images?"
"No, and if you tell her I'll know it was you," Sherlock muttered. "So don't you dare."
"Yeah. Seriously, teaching him to say murder though, Sherlock? Think that will backfire on you."
Sherlock opened his mouth to reply only to be interrupted as there was a knock on the door. Lestrade sighed and beckoned Anderson in.
"Those reports you were looking for," he said. He caught sight of Sherlock and his jaw dropped. "Hold on a moment, you're…wait…you…"
"I had a child, yes Anderson, how observant," Sherlock said with an eye roll. "Johann, can you say idiot?"
Johann's mouth pursed a bit and he did finally manage to say "'diot." Sherlock beamed and kissed the boy on top of his head, murmuring praise.
"That's twenty-four, good boy," he said.
Lestrade frowned, and gave him a questioning look.
"Anderson, perhaps you'd be so kind as to go get Johann a snack from the vending machine in the break room," Sherlock said, scooping Johann off his lap.
"What?" Anderson said.
"You heard me," Sherlock said.
"I'm not babysitting some—"
"Death by suicide," Sherlock muttered under his breath, causing Anderson's eyes to widen.
"I have nothing to be guilty about. After all you're alive and—"
"Psychological trauma," Sherlock said with a cough.
Anderson made a face but did extend his hand to take Johann's. The boy looked a bit reluctant but did eventually take hold of Anderson's finger.
"'Diot," he said with a smile.
"You'll pay for this, Sherlock, I swear."
Sherlock rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Lestrade as the door closed.
"Sorry, where were we. Anyhow, the network…"
"No we were talking about you teaching your son inappropriate words," Lestrade said with a grin.
"Shit, which you just said in front of him, is usually deemed more inappropriate than idiot or murder," Sherlock said. He frowned and then added, "Besides, I'm trying to improve his vocabulary…he's…turned out to be a late talker…"
Lestrade's smile fell. "What? What's that mean?"
"It means he should have a vocabulary of fifty to a hundred words by now if he was a normal child," Sherlock said, swallowing as his throat seemed to tighten. "Johann has twenty-four…we've taken him to specialists. They insist he probably will catch up eventually…it's just been concerning. But there's nothing wrong with him physically and developmentally he's hitting other milestones and he understands everything quite well…he just doesn't seem willing to talk or use new words very often. But one of the specialists we took him too said they thought his intelligence seemed quite high—"
"So he's got your brain without your mouth," Lestrade said with a laugh, only to freeze when he caught Sherlock's serious gaze. "Sorry, yeah bad timing. Er..well hopefully he'll get better at talking soon. I really am sorry you and Molly are dealing with that. Must be difficult."
Sherlock shrugged. "There are worse things. Far worse. If this is his only problem I'll be quite delighted."
"Yeah, suppose that's true," Lestrade said with a sigh. "So, the network."
Sherlock nodded and pulled out the file he'd gathered, setting it in front of Lestrade for him to open and browse through.
"You've got a lot here," Lestrade said. "Your informant has done quite well."
"Yes, she has," Sherlock said. "Er…yes…the point is if you could start putting together a plan of how to take down the major branches that would be the best way to play it. We'll want to take them out all at once if possible, or at least in a couple of days."
"Right," Lestrade said, glancing up and nodding at Sherlock. "I quite agree. So you'll just give the signal when your informant is out and safe?"
"Yes, I've asked for a bit more time. A little bit more information," Sherlock said. "We want to make sure there's no changes. And no mistakes."
"Yeah, all right," Lestrade said. "I'll start putting this thing together."
The door opened and Anderson came in with a crying Johann in his arms. Sherlock rose to his feet and snatched the boy away before Anderson could take another step.
"What did you do?" he snapped, staring from the man to Johann, quickly trying to make a scan of things and create his own deductions. "Johann, what did he do? Are you all right?"
Anderson held up his hands. "I didn't do a thing to that brat, he simply dropped one of his biscuits on the ground and started crying."
Sherlock sent Anderson a threatening look as he ran a hand soothingly down his son's back. Johann was gradually calming some, which caused him to decide Anderson was not worth murdering.
"All right, why don't you take him home, eh Sherlock?" Lestrade said. "Looks like he might need a nap."
Johann's head shot up and he stared at Lestrade his little red rimmed eyes wide. "No nap!"
"It's the one sentence he knows how to say," Sherlock muttered. "Molly insists he must have my insomnia."
"Yeah I'll bet," Lestrade said with a chuckle. "All right, you go home and…you know…I'll see you later, all right?" He looked at the two of them with a smile and added, "see enjoy your terrible twos and teens."
Sherlock shook his head and headed to the door. Johann peered over his shoulder after Lestrade, and waved a hand.
"Bye-bye," he said.
Sherlock smiled at that and glanced back at Lestrade who was beaming at the both of them. He pulled his little boy a little closer and walked to the door feeling very accomplished. All in a day's work.
He rubbed his eyes as he stared at the screen. Perhaps he should have taken another night for sleep, but at the same time he hadn't felt like it. His therapist would likely scold him when he went in for another session in a week. But Sherlock didn't care.
Alex had come through the kitchen at some point with a friend from school, raiding it for snacks before the two snuck up to his bedroom. Sherlock simply ignored them. He had noticed Reena over more in the last few weeks, but he didn't pay much attention to the comings and goings of Alex's little friends.
His research was interrupted, however, when Molly came and tapped him on the shoulder. He looked up at her with a grimace.
"What? I'm doing research."
"So I see…but that…" she sighed and hissed, "you need to give Alex the talk."
He frowned. "What? I'll talk with him if you'd like. But what do we need to talk about?"
"The talk," Molly said.
"I don't understand why you're putting emphasis on the article," Sherlock said.
Molly sighed and glanced over at Johann who was coloring quietly at the coffee table.
"The sex talk," she whispered.
"And why does he suddenly need that talk? A few years ago you were convinced that he should think storks brought babies," Sherlock muttered, closing his laptop to pay better attention to what she was saying.
"Yes, and that was before I walked in on him and his friend kissing," Molly said, pursing her lips and furrowing her eyebrows. "Him and Reena. Upstairs. In his bedroom. Kissing."
Sherlock stared at her. "And that's our business how?"
"He's twelve, Sherlock!" Molly said with a gasp. "I mean kissing yes, but if he and her start…doing other things…you're going to be all right with that?"
"Please tell me you're not one of those abstinence only people, or I may have to walk out that door and not come back," Sherlock said. "All kinds of research shows that it's ineffective to teach children to just wait until they're married."
"No," Molly said with a sigh. "I'm one of those don't-want-our-son-having-a-baby-before-he-graduates people. I'm one of those I-don't-want-to-be-a-grandmother-I'm-too-young-people. Which is why we need to make sure he understands the consequences…he's just…he's so young…"
"So what, tell him to use protection? Or the basics part A goes in part B," Sherlock said. "Isn't there curriculum in schools for that?"
"Yes, I believe so," Molly said. "But that doesn't mean we shouldn't give him a sense that he could always talk to us if he's having trouble…and we really should make sure he understands how important protection is."
Sherlock sighed. "Fine, I'll talk with him later. Though I don't see why you couldn't."
"He'll be more comfortable with you," Molly said. "I'm going to make some dinner. Reena's mother is coming by in about ten minutes. And after that I want you to have a good chat with Alex."
Sherlock blinked a few times as Molly headed back to the kitchen. That was that he supposed. Her order to go have a discussion with Alex about sex. He did his best to not allow any level of anxiety to rise. "Sex doesn't alarm me," he muttered under his breath. And perhaps it didn't, but talking to a twelve year old was a whole different matter.
The next few minutes passed slowly. He tried to focus in on his younger son, thinking that might be a distraction, but all he could think about was Alex at that young age, coloring innocently at the table instead of snogging girls. He wondered then how Johann would be when he reached puberty. Alex was his father's after all…following in his footsteps already apparently. But Johann would be more of a mystery. Such were the joys of being a parent, he supposed.
After a while he heard footsteps on the stairs. Reena's mother went into the kitchen to say hello to Molly. He heard her call up the stairs to have Alex send down Reena. There were whispers in the stairwell, and then Reena was bounding down, grinning in a way that told Sherlock she was utterly pleased with herself.
After the mother and daughter combo disappeared down the stairs Molly peeked in and cleared her throat. Sherlock sighed and reached out to ruffle Johann's hair.
"Never grow up like Alex, promise me?" he said.
Johann looked up at him with a puzzled expression. "No 'lec?"
"Exactly," Sherlock said. "Not like Alex. You stay my little boy forever, promise?"
Johann seemed to think about it for a minute, staring down at his drawing in puzzlement. After a moment he finally settled on, "No," before he went back to viciously shading in his drawing with brown.
"We'll work on that," Sherlock said with a shrug. He stood and went to the stairs, taking a deep breath before heading up.
Alex was lying on his bed, staring perplexedly up at his phone. Sherlock knocked in spite of the fact that the door was cracked open. Alex looked up and nodded.
"Come in," he said with a sigh, lowering his phone down and rolling onto his side to look at Sherlock with a glum sort of expression.
Sherlock closed the door and went over to sit on Johann's bed.
"Your mother has asked that I have a discussion about…intercourse with you," Sherlock said doing his best to appear more confident than he felt. "In light of your new…closeness with Reena."
Blue eyes widened almost comically as Alex sat bolt upright.
"What?" he asked, staring at Sherlock.
"We want to ensure you're not in need of any guidance in terms of understanding the nature of copulation," Sherlock said. "If you are, I would be able to provide you with some basics or answer questions. Though, to be honest, I don't know why Molly thinks you can't just google whatever you need to know."
Alex gaped at him. "Oh my god, no! I already know all that! I've known that for a while."
"I assumed," Sherlock said. "But Molly asked me to be sure. And to make sure you didn't have questions. And to remind you to use protection."
Alex squeaked and covered his face, which was rapidly turning an alarming shade of red. Sherlock frowned and studied him again.
"Alex, are you all right?"
"Sod off!" he snapped. "I don't need this! I'm not some little kid who doesn't know anything."
Sherlock frowned. "Language please, Alex. Molly will have a fit if she hears that. And I am aware you are quite mature, but that doesn't change the fact that as the juvenile and inexperienced person you are you might think it's all right to go without protection at times. It is not. You must be careful to not end up with an unwanted pregnancy on your hands or disease."
"Oh my god, please just stop," Alex groaned as he flopped down on the bed again, thankfully uncovering his face at last. "Today was bad enough without you butting in!"
"And why was it bad?"
Alex lowered his head and sighed. "I just…I don't know. I guess me and Reena are dating."
"Reena and I. And why are you saying it like that?" Sherlock asked. "Molly said you two were kissing. I'm sure that was enjoyable, was it not? She's quite a…pretty girl."
He thought about her long dark hair and lovely darkened skin. There was nothing remotely displeasing about her in the traditional sense unless one was a racist. And even if Sherlock didn't normally like using the social constructs about beauty he could recognize her attractiveness about her.
"So, what's wrong?" Sherlock asked again.
Alex sighed. "All the guys on my football team said Reena must be my girlfriend cause we spend a lot of time together…anyhow so I told Reena the other day cause I thought she'd think it was as stupid as I did… and she said that she wanted to be my girlfriend…and so now I guess we're like…dating or something…"
"But you don't want to," Sherlock said after a moment, gaining some clarity. "You don't want Reena to be your girlfriend. You just want her as a friend."
The boy nodded, biting his lip as he stared up at the ceiling. "I just…I'm not…I don't know…I don't like her that way. Like…you're supposed to feel different about someone when you date them right?"
Sherlock considered how he felt for Molly now and shrugged. "Yes. I suppose so. It's a different feeling than simply being friends with someone."
"I don't know, I guess I just also feel like I'm not ready," Alex said. "Like she kissed me today and…you know…it just…I wasn't ready."
Sherlock sighed and slipped off Johann's bed to come sit on Alex's instead.
"I thought for a long time I might not be with anyone," Sherlock said. "Because I didn't feel the things most people described. And when Molly and I started our relationship I'll admit I didn't know if I would feel anything either. But with time I have. You're right, Alex, maybe you're not ready. And that's all right. And I doubt you'll take as long as I did to figure things out, but in the meantime I believe a good bit of honesty with Reena would be appropriate. And perhaps just ignoring your friends if they bother or pressure you in the future."
"Aunt Harry always talks about how when dad was my age he had a new girlfriend every week," Alex whispered.
"You are not your father, Alex," Sherlock said, thinking back to his own assumptions about Alex. It was true, it was easy to confuse the two of them, but at the same time Alex wasn't John. "No matter how much you look like him. No matter how much people compare you to him. You are your own unique person."
"I wish people would compare me to you," he said. "I wish…I wish I was really your son."
"I know," Sherlock said calmly, even as his heartbeat speeded up at the mere thought. "But I can't change biology. We are what we are. All I can do is continue to care for you like I my own."
He was silenced when Alex suddenly threw his arms around him like he would have when he was little. Sherlock had in many ways assumed Alex had outgrown hugs. But it was nice to be proven wrong for once.
He wrapped an arm tight around Alex and sighed.
"Don't let people pressure you to be something you're not," he said. "Or to do things you don't want to. Those are the main messages I think Molly and I would both have for you. Be yourself. Be careful. Be brave. If you follow those, perhaps everything will work out all right."
"Thank you, Sherlock," Alex murmured.
"You're welcome," Sherlock said. Teenagers indeed. Perhaps Lestrade had a point after all. And the boy hadn't even reached the technical "teens" or even puberty for that matter. He squeezed a little tighter around Alex and hoped things would only get better from there on out, and not descend into some kind of hell that everyone seemed to insist was coming. But then again, Sherlock faced great dangers regularly, didn't he? After all, what were a few hormones to the greatest detective in the world?
A/N: Thanks to Jesuslovesmarina for reviewing.
Ok, updates on The Parent. I'm going to be working 12 hour shifts everyday starting next week. So you might not see an update for a long time. And after those crazy 12 hour days, I'm going to also be starting a new job so life is just going to be picking up. I will continue this, but it's going to be tough.
Honestly, I feel like this work is dragging...which is tough. I know how it ends but I'm struggling some with these middle parts. But hopefully we'll get through them all right and I won't lose too many people before the end. If you have any suggestions of things you want to see in these awkward teenage years feel free to suggest (or the toddler ones for Johann).
Thanks to all who've supported me. -elsarenard