Hello! I finally got this chapter written! Also, I opened a Fictionpress account so if you like what I do here and want to read more go check me out. I am under the same name there as I am here so I shouldn't be too hard to find. I'm also looking for a beta for it
Andrew stared at the now familiar wall in front of him wondering how much longer he would have to stay in this house until he could finally go home. He missed his bed, his flat, and most of all his eccentric Father doing random dangerous experiments in the kitchen and his Father in general; all together he really just hated it here with his uncle, the house was too big, the bed was too soft, and he hated that woman who never took her eyes off her phone.
But now was not the time think of her, or them, it was a time to gaze at the collage that had been growing across his wall like ivy across trees and tresses, since he had gotten there Andrew had been amassing photos that reminded him of home, then when he got bored in the big house that he loathed so much Andrew would run away to his room and tape his precious pictures over the sickeningly cheerful colorful of his uncle's walls, only because they weren't the red and greens he was used back in Baker Street.
Over the months he had been there Andrew had gathered pictures of his Father, of his Dad before deployment, and lots of pictures of them as a happy family, even found some of just his Father and Dad before they had been his parents.
This, this is what he did when he wanted to avoid people, especially the people, or lack there of, in this house and since it was so quiet all the time it was easy to forget that anyone was home. At least Andrew assumed there were people home, pretty sure there was the wait staff down stairs somewhere, but while he reminisced with his almost not even close to being there parents the wait staff did not exist to him.
Only he and his parents were there in the house at this time.
Andrew smiled at his Father and at his Dad, looking at them each in turn wanting to pull them into hugs after so long of not seeing them; It had been a couple weeks since the dinner with his Father and he would never see his Dad again, a thought he regularly pushed out of his mind.
This was just one wall. Andrew turned his head to the next wall over and smiled fondly at the blond haired man and red haired woman plastered over the wall paper.
These were his biological parents, Julie and Mike Webster, the two people he thought would always be there to teach him everything there was to learn in the world, just as they had when he grew up. Andrew's parents had taught him how to walk, how to ride a bike, and how to work with others. There was never a time when he thought they wouldn't be in his life, well sure University, when he grew up enough to get there, but even then his parents would be there to help him move in to his dorm.
It was just that at the end of everyday his parents were always there. Without fail greeting him as he came through the door running from whatever bad day he had had, his mother would always comfort him while at the same time warning him that he can't run from all his problems that eventually he has to face some of the things that are bothering him. Then his dad would come in and take him outside and kick the football around for hours until his mom would call in that dinner was ready, and dinner was of course lasagne, his favorite.
John had been the same way, when Andrew had come home in a huff he was the one to help him work it out and encouraged him to talk with those causing the problem. Sherlock had encouraged ignoring them because they were idiots, but John had always said that communication skills were necessary by people on a "normal spectrum". "Normal Spectrum" was what he always had said, but even after always saying that he still married and loved the man that was so far of the "normal spectrum" he solved crimes for free and by God John had thought of Sherlock until the moment he died of that Andrew was sure. He was also pretty sure that John had thought of him, kind hearted John never forgot anyone important to him.
Andrew was also sure that biological his parents had thought of him when they died, knowing his mom she thought about everyone, but herself. The days after the incident all Andrew could agonize over were what thoughts were racing through his parents heads as they died because as he had found out it had taken them at least ten minutes to pass on. Knowing his parents they thought of him they always thought of him. And he felt like a terrible son for thinking his parents thought of anything else.
Looking at the pictures of all his parents made him remember every memory he ever with them, good and not so good. The not so good times were when he copped an attitude, then got yelled at, which only made him cop an attitude even more.
The good times with his Mom and Dad were memories to cherish for a lifetime. Family vacations to the continent usually to Spain since his mom was fluent in Spanish, though, Andrew spoke very little himself he spoke enough to get by, and more importantly get food. Mostly they stayed in Great Britain and Ireland. Traveling with his parents was amazing, if they had the time they would take the long ferry ride all the way to Bilbao. It was in these hours on their annual family vacation that they reconnected as a unit and, of course, covered more Spanish phrases she thought would be helpful to them as they traveled through a country so different than their own. Andrew liked seeing the new places, hearing the words so different from his own, and most of all spending the time with his parents.
Time with his Dad was regular since he worked at the clinic close by, but time with his Father was a little less set in stone since he was usually off solving crimes, though he was made to come home at times so the three of them could spend time together as a family. There was a lot of that especially in the last month before his Dad's deployment. With his Father's unscheduled hours of crime solving awesomeness, as Andrew liked to call it when he had first warmed up to them, vacations were not something the couple was really accustomed to, but once Andrew started talking about and showing pictures for the ones he went on with his first parents there was no way that John and Sherlock could say no.
So here on the wall were all the pictures from all the vacations he took, with family he no longer has.
And in the evening when Andrew has finished his homework this is where he comes to be with those he can't actually be with, to remember those who had taught him so much and had so much left to teach him.
It was some nights as these that the loneliness gets too much. The need to be wrapped in a giant hug from his mom, dad, Dad, or Father was so over bearing he couldn't take being stuck at "Uncle" Mycroft's house another second longer.
But it was in the quiet that he could talk to his parents and tonight he did.
"Hi, mom. Hey, dad. How how are you? How is John? Can you tell him I miss him? Sherlock misses him, too." Andrew laid himself down on his bed preparing himself for a very long one-sided conversation with the smiling faces on the wall.
"I miss you all so much."