A/N: Oh my gosh! D: I'm so sorry for not updating for so long! I feel so horrible! I hope you guys will forgive me. I had a really bad case of writer's block. And I didn't know how to make this chapter work, so I let it sit in my imagination… and this is what I got. :\ Anyway, I have an answer to your review
Irene90- Ta-da! :D
Hamish's room was fairly sparse. It had a bed with a wooden headboard and light blue quilt, that was starting to show signs of several years of use, in the upper left-hand corner and a small stack of books on a nearby nightstand. A small square window was on the right-hand side, letting sunlight flood the room freely.
"Welcome to my prison cell," Hamish grumpily greeted.
"Hamish, are you alright with being adopted?" I asked, truly concerned.
He just sighed and shook his dad "no".
"Why not?" John gently asked.
Instead of answering, he walked over to the tiny nightstand and pulled out a spiral notebook, flipped to a page and handed it to John. John's eyes grew to have an incredulous light in them and showed it to me. The paper had at least twenty tally marks on it.
"Each one is a- a foster family?"
Hamish seemed to loose the strength that he had before, just vanished as he nodded.
"A handful of them I actually thought that they were the right family for me and the other three. But… something always went wrong."
"Okay, so I have a question for you," John asked me, slightly changing the subject, "How are you going to get him home without Sherlock knowing?"
Honest to goodness, I've been trying to figure that out since before I even got to the orphanage. But before I could answer, Snow burst in exclaming something happily in French. I managed to catch the words "mon peré" (My father). She was dressed in her original white gown but with a lace cape that gracefully dragged on the floor. She had on white gloves, too.
"Regardé à moi! Je suis la Rein de Neige!"** (Look at me! I am the Snow Queen!) She happily cried, spinning in a circle.
"Snow, where did you get these things?" Hamish asked, indicating to the lace and the gloves.
"Mon peré," she simply replied.
"Snow, you never met Dad," Hamish sternly answered.
Instead of verbally answering, she ran out of the room… But she wasn't crying. After a decent length of silence, John spoke.
"What just happened?"
"I just got to meet my daughter," a voice answered before anyone else could.
A/N: **If anyone speaks fluent French, please let me know if what I wrote was wrong. I would really appreciate it. :) I'm studying French, but I'm not fluent in it. :\ I really hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Free virtual hugs for everyone! :D