Chapter 81. The Things We do not Delete

John made his way down towards the kitchen of the old big house, he could do for some tea and then he would be off to bed. Today had been a long exciting day and he wasn't ten anymore, he felt his age in his aching bones.

"Ah, Doctor Watson you're still up. Tea?" John smiled gratefully seeing Royce and his son siting at the small table in the corner.

"I can get it. Didn't mean to interrupt. I did check in on our boys though Tyler. They seem to be settling in. Should be asleep by two am." John grinned moving to the heated kettle.

"Yes. I'm glad I didn't have to move to Germany after all. It was fortunate to find a job working security in London."

John nodded knowing exactly who arranged that, he turned back around to the two men who could be brothers instead of father and son. He remembered something that Hamish had said, he said Tommy's grandfather wasn't really his grandfather he was an uncle.

John shrugged it seemed that he wasn't the only one in the world who made his own family .

"Ever played poker Captain?" Tyler asked shuffling the cards.

John smiled that was right Tyler was an old soldier just like John, as was Royce for that matter.

"We'll I've been known to win a few hands now and again. In my army days. We played between shifts."

Royce gestured for John to join them and the ex army captain agreed happily, "Maybe a few hands before bed."

~0~

Sherlock smiled brightly at his received text, it seemed his late birthday gift to his nephew would be delivered just as soon as they returned to baker street on Sunday. It was a perfect surprise one that Hamish wouldn't see coming at all.

The English bulldog pups were ready and Sherlock had chosen a rather healthy male. He wondered what Hamish would name the dog. Hopefully nothing plain or dull like Rover or Spot, no Hamish was to clever a boy to come up with something dull.

The younger Holmes glanced once more at his mobile before plopping down in a chair near the fire place, his father's empty study felt warmer tonight.

He glanced into the dancing flames, his brother entered pouring himself a scotch he offered a tumbler to Sherlock who accepted without a word.

The two men sat in opposite chairs glancing into the flames, neither wishing to break the silence.

If Sherlock could look into his brother's mind he would see past the piles of work waiting for approval back at the office. Instead he would only see the replay of today. The way Hamish had cheered when the fire breathers did a demonstration with the jugglers. The young boy's polite thank yous for each gift he unwrapped.

Mycroft had given his nephew the birthday party his little brother would have loved at that age. Except father hadn't the time and mother was too sick. Even if father wasn't busy and mother hadn't been ill, Sherlock would never receive such a day. Father wasn't a believer in such juvenile celebrations like birthdays or Christmas.

The older Holmes sat in his father's study in his father's chair completely content, accepting the fact that he enjoyed himself today. This celebration was something father may have looked down on, but Mycroft hoped to see many more days like today in the years to come. Perhaps he should check into John's Christmas plans, it would be interesting to see the estate decorated and brought to life once more. They could throw a small get together of course, with Mrs. Hudson helping Sylvie with dinner, and a large Christmas tree decorating the front hall. Maybe a tree in the larger sitting room, perhaps he would ask John's permission and get Hamish a puppy for Christmas.

The idea of gifts under a tree, maybe even one marked with Sherlock's name brought a grin to the British Government's face. It seemed in his old age he was getting nostalgic and sentimental but bloody hell he deserved it. This was his family, even if it had taken five years to realize it.

He briefly considered his life and his brother's the choices that brought the two to this point. He recalled the first impression he had of John Watson how very wrong he had been about John. Even his father had thought Sherlock would have driven the boy mad after a few weeks at the very most by the end of summer but here they were all these years later. It was never John having to prove his worth to the Holmes family but it was in fact the other way around.

~0~

Sherlock entered the room of his mind palace pushing open the door that was labeled John. There were so many things in that room the consulting detective found himself reorganizing and expanding it. John was in his usual arm chair dressed in his comfortable brown jumper, his lap top open on his knees and a cup of warm tea steaming on the end table near his chair. The fire was warm and welcoming here, as always this room was a refuge. Sherlock had tried to stay out of this room during his hiatus, but it was on the days were sleep pushed into him and exhaustion overwhelmed him that some of the darker things came out of this room.

However since he'd been back he found himself returning without any trouble even the dark things in the locked closet stayed behind the metal door in the corner. Sherlock wished he could delete those things but he knew anything pertaining to John was impossible to delete. He glanced over at the blue door just to his right.

Sherlock had made an adjoining room to John's the blue door was decorated with Hamish's favorite rugby team's poster and inside was everything Sherlock had cataloged as Hamish. It wasn't quite as big as John's but he knew from experience it would expand and grow. These were the things that Sherlock kept close, these memories he marked in bright red letters as DO NOT DELETE.

~Finis~

A/N: thank you very much for reading and following this story to the very end.