Thank you for the response this story has gotten it means a lot to me! I'm sorry it has been so long, but NaNoWriMo started and ended and I was a little distracted. Also I changed my name, just so my name is a warning for the feels.
Now that John is gone his life rests in my hands, to let him live or not...that is the question...
Belen09 - You should have a bad feeling about this
- Little Moffat ;)
Dear Dad,
[Week 2]
I miss you Dad! Very much so. Can't say that things up here are any different, Father is still blowing things up and Mrs. Hudson is still upset, though she has stopped her threats of kicking us out of the flat; I think that this is because you left. It really is a funny story.
"Father, I'm home!" Andrew set down his back pack and football bags to lay gingerly on the couch. The practice that day had been grueling and Andrew ached everywhere, even in places he didn't know he had, but that wasn't his main concern right now, "What's that smell?" Andrew shifted his head to look over to the kitchen door, that was when he saw the smoke, "Father!" Adrenaline pumped as he jumped of the couch and to the smokey haze that had become of the eating area.
Once in the other room coughing could be heard.
"Andrew stay in the other room!" It was of course too late for that, but the thought was nice.
"Father, what are you doing in here? Dad said no experiments while he is gone!" Andrew took in the burnt mess on the stove and-...and the vegetables on the table?, "Father, where you trying to cook?" Sherlock's cheeks flared red with embarrassment. He turned away facing the counter.
"Your dad made it seem so simple." The sadness in his voice was so obvious it made Andrew keep quiet.
The Silence Continued.
"Why don't we go to that Chinese place that's open all the time?" Andrew knew that this is where Dad and Father went after their first case together. Sherlock appreciated concern being shown to him by his son.
"That sounds nice." The words were weak, but they were true.
So it was nice in his "Sherlock Way" that you talk about sometimes, but as far as I know that has been the ONLY reason the kitchen has been in danger. School has been going just fine just so you know. Some how word has gotten around school that you have gone off to war. Then following it was the fact that I have two dads. Of course what followed that was that I had parents who were killed. I don't know what I was expecting, sympathy more so than the odd looks and, I will admit, slight taunting. Father says to ignore and that all those who make fun of me are too much like Mr. Anderson to understand and display empathy.
"Hey, Andrew!" Carter the Imbecile called as Andrew trudged down the sidewalk try with every fiber of his being to ignore the coming onslaught of taunts, "I heard your faggot dad got sent back to Afganistan."
"Yeah, everyone knows that by now where have you been? Hiding under a rock?" The words flew from his mouth before he could check them. Father was always telling him not to talk back to bullies, but when they were being dumb it was hard not to throw one their way.
"Well, at least mine is just a rock and not the three grave stones you can hide under." The smug look on Carter's face showed that that was the comment he was expecting a punch aimed at him. But Andrew knew better, words were trivial compared to bruises.
"Two, actually, and I don't hide under them much to dark to read there. Carter leave me alone." Andrew's words were ignored as Carter the Imbecile kept going.
"Yeah, I heard that your parents killed themselves cause they couldn't take you anymore. Then to add insult to injury you get lumped with two queers? Just isn't right."
Andrew kept walking keeping his pace even and his face blank.
"Yeah, your only sane parent got sent off to die. Now you are left with that creeper who likes boys. Does he-"
"I know what you are trying to imply and it is not true. So, please, just leave me alone."
The shove was unexpected and sent Andrew sprawling to the ground.
"What have I told you about interrupting me? Don't do it!" The sentence was followed by a kick to the stomach. Luckily that was all, Carter left with the smug look he came with.
Mrs. Hudson misses you lots I think she has now become our house keeper. Though sometimes when I'm walking up the stairs I think I hear her crying, but I can't be sure about that.
Andrew had been late to coming home since he had been studying in the library at school for his math test. He was later then he was suppose to be and even though he had a good reason Mrs. Hudson and Father would still be worried.
The wind outside was harsh and it was starting to sprinkle so Andrew waited in the foyer to dry his shoes off before venturing any further into the house, but that was when he heard it. A sniffling coming from Mrs. Hudson's apartment.
"Mrs. Hudson?" Sniffling ends and a red eyed woman comes to the door.
"Hamish you are late, you know how your Father worries about you." Andrew smiled at her attempts to cover her own sorrow for his sake.
"I know, I had to study for a math test. Can't let my grades slip or I can't play football." Andrew skipped over the fact that she called him Hamish, she did that sometimes, though more often since Dad left.
"Yes, yes of course. Your Father is at the Scotland Yard, but I made some stew and left it on the stove up stairs for you."
"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson." Andrew kissed her cheek and made his way up the stairs to enjoy the stew she lovingly made for him.
Sometimes I think I also hear Father cry, when he forgets I'm home or when he is asleep in your room. He likes to pretend it doesn't happen and I follow along, but we both know it happens. In case you were worrying Father has not missed one game or come home overly injured, a few bruises, but nothing more.
Who in their right mind would add letters to math? That is what Andrew wanted to know, not what 'x' equaled.
"Math needs to grow up and solve it's own problems." the frustrated boy muttered to himself as he rhythmically tapped his pencil against the cluttered table top, but that's when he heard it. The sniffling was always a dead give away that Father had had a really exciting case that day, when normally he would have been jumping off the walls talking not stop, while Dad finally got him to eat something. Now exciting cases just brutally reminded him of his loss.
"Father?" He straightened up and pulled himself together in time to face Andrew, "You finished the case."
It wasn't a question, it was a clean cut statement.
"Yes, I did." He cleared his throat of the pain residing there, "It was the baker, he was hiding the crack in the sugar sacks."
Father had almost not gotten this case since it dealt with drugs and he was at a lower point in his life without Dad, but Uncle Lestrade was more concerned about Father without a case to occupy his mind than the thought that a drug filled case would set him back on the track of self destruction. Although Andrew wasn't sure if Uncle Lestrade knew that as much as the cases helped, they also hurt the Heart Sick Great Detective.
Andrew stood and pulled a plate out of the oven, over time he had gotten very good at guessing when Father would finish a case and finally eat, he would sometimes make bets with Dad, and set the plate on the only clear spot on the table top.
"I made you some dinner, now that you aren't busy," Andrew didn't sit as he waited for his Father to make the first move, "And you are going to eat it," Father opened his mouth as if to argue, but Andrew beat him to it, "I don't want to hear it you are going to eat this plate of food." He used the voice he heard Dad use multiple times, that voice he 'learned in the military' he called it when it left no room for questioning.
Father smiled sadly as he took the seat at the table and began to eat slowly. Only when he was eating more vigorously did he finally sit down to finish his math homework.
And that, Dad, is and up date of everything at home. How is everything on your end? I hope you are staying safe. Father and I can't wait for you to come home so we can be a family again. I know he is doing his best, but he just seems a little lost sometimes. I think he is just lost without you.
Lots of Love,
Andrew Watson-Holmes