Beta-ed by: TheRimmerConnection

Had to run an errand. Watch Hamish. Be back in a few months. -SH

It had been exactly five months since Sherlock and Irene's unexpected departure from Baker Street, and no one had heard a word from them ever since. John and Mary usually stayed over at the Holmes household, since Hamish didn't want to stay at their place.

"It's been five months, Lestrade," John whispered to the Detective Inspector, while cautiously eyeing a playing Hamish. "I'm surprised Social Services hasn't come to take away the boy yet."

"Do you even know what those two are up to?" Lestrade whispered back.

"No," replied John, "And I don't care about what they're doing, to be honest. It's Hamish I'm worried about. The boy's parents disappear for five months without a word. I hope he's not too emotionally scarred."

"I can hear what you two are talking about, you know," Hamish said without looking up from his microscope. "Mummy and Daddy didn't abandon me. They just had something to do, that's all."

Lestrade felt sorry for the boy, trying to make up excuses for his parents' disappearance. Hopefully he would be put in a foster family close to home when the time came, so he could visit.

"Maybe they're trying to find more of Moriarty's crime network," Hamish said, without missing a beat.

The two adults looked at each other, shocked.

"Hamish," John was the first one to speak, "How do you know about Moriarty?"

"You weren't even born then," Lestrade added.

"Daddy would always tell me bedtime stories about a man named Moriarty and his network," the boy explained, "He told me that criminals are interconnected into one web and James Moriarty was their head, and then one day Moriarty killed himself, and no one knows what happened to the rest of his network. Some say it died with him, but Daddy always tells me that his network is still there, growing and expanding, waiting for the right time to strike back."

Lestrade certainly doubted Sherlock's parenting skills. Children should never be told those kinds of bedtime stories. Hamish must be traumatized.

John remembered that point in time well. He remembered the pain that he felt when he thought Sherlock, his best friend, favourite sociopath, and consulting detective, might actually have deemed himself a fake and killed himself. Two years later, when most of Moriarty's network had been dissolving rapidly for unknown reasons, Sherlock came back, but with a certain woman in tow. The world was shocked at the return of Sherlock Holmes, and to add to the British Government's shock, Irene Adler had also returned from the dead. He guessed Sherlock had decided to omit that from his story.

"Mummy and Daddy will be back, Uncle John," the boy said to him, "I know it."

~o~

John was trying to sleep in Sherlock and Irene's bedroom, and was failing miserably. Mary was sleeping soundly beside him, she needed to make breakfast tomorrow and go back to their flat to sort and clean things out there as well as feed their dog. This had been their routine for the past five months, and John was absolutely certain that Mary was exhausted by the end of every day.

The door opened and traces of light from outside trailed into the room. John was expecting it to be Hamish, come to wake him up to get him a glass of milk or some such. What he didn't expect was Sherlock Holmes standing there, wearing his usual black wool trench coat.

Was he dreaming?

"Hello, John." He spoke.

~o~

"It seems like Moriarty's network hasn't completely dissolved yet. Had to take out a few in Ecuador," Sherlock said, "Haven't you been watching the news, John?"

John, who had kept his anger to himself, suddenly could not take it anymore.

"I didn't have time to watch the news Sherlock, because I was looking after your son while you two went galloping across South America."

Sherlock ignored him, "Is Hamish asleep? I'd like to show him some fossils I've acquired whilst strolling around the Puyango Petrified Forest."

~o~

"Good morning, Hamish," said Irene Adler as she sauntered over to kitchen where her son was having his breakfast.

"Good morning, Mummy, I grew two and a half inches since December."

"Is that so?"

"I can reach the freezer now without kneeling right up on the stool."

"That's wonderful dear."

"Yes, yes quite wonderful." Sherlock waved a hand to hurry up the conversation as he strolled into the room and laid out the fossils out on the table. "Look at these Hamish, we could look at the bone cells with your microscope."

As the small family reacquaints themselves, John Watson watches in the sitting room with a smile. Whoever might say Sherlock has the same emotional capacity to love as a tree has certainly never seen him interact with his son after being away for so long. Indeed, absence does make the heart grow fonder. Lestrade will definitely have a shock when John informs him that their favorite detective has returned once again.