A/N: Alright, THIS chapter is the longest to date. Hope you enjoy, I actually really like this chapter. Please review! (More notes at the bottom).

Sherlock has to go home the next morning before eating breakfast because John has to go to his grandmother's house early. He doesn't want to leave John, of course, but John tells him over and over again that he has to go.

"I love you," John says, twirling the long hair behind Sherlock's ear. "I'll be back late. We can get together tomorrow."

Sherlock nods.

John rubs his nose against Sherlock's, then kisses him lightly. "I love you," he repeats.

"I love you too," Sherlock says, then kisses John one more time.

When he gets home, Sherlock goes straight to the kitchen to eat. He's starving, since all he had yesterday was candy and a few chips at the arcade, so he gets a very large bowl for cereal.

He hears his dad's bedroom door open, then close, then hears Clement hop down the stairs.

Clement nearly screams as he rounds the corner, jumping in shock from seeing Sherlock there. "Christ! I didn't hear you come in!"

Sherlock's still wearing his coat, so he doesn't bother explaining that he just got home. "Sorry," he mutters.

Clement shakes his head and calms his breathing, then steps over to the cabinet to get a coffee cup.

"What's the point of spending the night with John if you still come home to eat?" Clement asks, pouring his coffee.

"I had to come home, John's going out of town."

"Nonetheless," Clement says. He steps behind Sherlock and kisses his head. "How was your night, then? The arcade and everything?"

Sherlock shrugs. "It was fun. A little girl fell in love with me, so that was…interesting."

"My boy," Clement pinches his cheek. "Ever the charmer."

Sherlock half smiles, then takes his bowl to sit at the other side of the island.

"Speaking of my boy," Clement says, "Any idea where my other boy is?"

"If he's not here," Sherlock says between bites, "I presume your other boy is enjoying a nice breakfast…elsewhere."

Clement raises an eyebrow. "Elsewhere?"

Sherlock squirms uncomfortably and stirs his cereal. "Elsewhere."

"Else…" Clement eyes him. "Where?"

"I'm not telling."

"How about for ten pounds?"

"You're going to give me ten whole pounds just so I'll tell you where Mycroft is?"

Clement nods.

"He's at Lestrade's," Sherlock quickly says before taking a bite of his cereal.

"I knew it!" Clement cries. "I knew it."

"Pay up," Sherlock says, extending a hand.

"I don't carry money in my pajamas, son."

Sherlock glares as he takes another bite.

"I knew it," Clement repeats. "So they're…an item?"

Sherlock shrugs. "So it may seem."

"Since when?"

"Since…I don't know. Somewhat right before Myc left and this weekend, I guess."

"So, they've been long distance, then?"

Sherlock shakes his head. "They stopped talking for a bit."

Clement nods in understanding. "Wow," he mutters, sipping his coffee. "Am I the only one in this house who likes women?"

Sherlock shrugs. "No. Declan does. And maybe Mum's got a secret."

Clement taps his chin in thought. "Did you see her with a man or a woman?"

Sherlock pretends to think about it, taking on Clement's joking. "Man. Or very masculine woman. I couldn't tell, the window was dirty."

Clement chuckles. Sherlock smiles at his dad, glad to make him laugh.

Clement is about to say something, but he's cut off by Sherlock's phone vibrating loudly on the island. He picks it up and examines it, making a confused face.

"Who's calling?" Clement curiously asks.

"Uh, it's a text," Sherlock says. "I don't know who it's from. I don't know this number."

"What does it say?" Clement asks.

"Uhm…it just says 'figure out who I am'."

"Hmm," Clement sounds. "Fun."

Sherlock glances at him, then texts back. 'Why would I want to?' his text reads.

"So, your brother and Lestrade," Clement says. "I knew it."

"You did not."

"I did! I know everything that goes on with you two."

Sherlock shakes his head. "Do not."

"Want to bet?"

"I have nothing to hide anyway, Dad."

"Right," Clement says.

They're interrupted now by Declan's footsteps coming down the stairs. They pause as he enters the kitchen, looking happy and still half asleep.

"Well, well," Clement places a hand on his shoulder. "Look at you."

Declan sloppily grins. "Good morning."

"Good indeed," Clement says. "And how was your Valentine's Day?"

Declan continues grinning as he pours his coffee. "Blissful."

Clement and Sherlock share a smile.

"Blissful?" Clement asks.

"It was perfect," Declan clarifies. "The best I've ever had."

"You and Ellery are doing well, then?" Clement asks. "You two are happy?"

"Yes, sir," Declan says, sitting next to Sherlock on the island.

Sherlock eyes him closely. "You've still got strawberry lip gloss on."

Declan smiles widely. "And I don't even care."

Sherlock laughs at him, then his phone vibrates on the table. He checks the text that says 'it's a fun challenge'. He furrows his brows and texts back 'I don't think so'.

After breakfast, Sherlock takes another shower and gets ready. Mycroft still isn't home, so he makes himself busy by doing an experiment alone in his bedroom. He doesn't hear from John at all, and the mystery texts are still boring, so he quits with them after a while.

He misses John dearly. As he's doing the experiment, he thinks about how much easier it'd be if John were there. He loves doing experiments with John, even if it means having to explain every single step and everything he's doing.

Sherlock picks up his phone to text John, but he thinks better of it and tosses his phone onto the bed.

After two hours alone in his bedroom, there's a knock on the door. Sherlock calls for whoever it is to enter, and Clement steps through a second later.

"Son," Clement says. "I, uh, I just wanted to let you know that Mum's coming here so that we can talk."

Sherlock instantly pauses and slowly sets the tweezers he's holding down. "Uh…here?"

Clement nods. "Yes."

"It's just that…that you didn't say 'home'. You didn't say 'Mum's is coming home so we can talk'. You said 'here'. Implying that this isn't her home. Is she coming to collect her things?"

Clement shrugs. "I don't know, Sherlock. That's not what I meant. All I meant by it was here, as in…here."

Sherlock bites his lip, clearly upset by something.

"I didn't mean to upset you, Sherlock," Clement says. "I only meant to let you know."

Sherlock frowns deeply. "Why is she coming here?"

"So we can—"

"No!" Sherlock cries. "Here. Why here?"

"I don't under—"

Sherlock rubs a hand against his face and groans in frustration. He doesn't want his mother there at his home; he doesn't want to see her. He wants this all over with, and to perhaps see her on his own time. She hasn't even tried to see him since their dinner; she hasn't tried to explain or apologize or give him any sort of comfort in this whole situation. He hurts, and he doesn't like that this hurts so badly.

"Sherlock," Clement softly says. "It's alright."

"It's not alright!" he shouts, as if every bit of pain is leaving his body by his tone. "It's not alright, and I'm sick of everyone saying that!"

Clement slowly sits on his bed. "Tell me what isn't alright."

"Any of this, Dad! Don't you see? She doesn't care! Not about me and definitely not about you!"

"Sherlock—"

"Just go," Sherlock says. "Please, leave me alone."

Clement nods and stands, running a hand through Sherlock's hair as he goes to the door.

Sherlock's never felt so alone. His chest aches and his breathing grows quicker and quicker with each thought of insecurity. He can't stop thinking about the love he doesn't witness. He can't bring himself to think of one happy thing; even thoughts of John at this moment are tainted with the fights they've never even had.

He thinks of John laughing with other people; he thinks of John spending time with other people and being so happy afterwards; he thinks of John even being happy with Olive and Lily yesterday.

He thinks of Mycroft going on dates with men other than Lestrade.

He thinks of Declan and Kennedy.

He thinks of seeing his mother kiss that man.

Sherlock falls on his bed and clutches his chest. He feels like throwing up, and he feels light headed. Knowing all too well how destructive he can be alone in his own bedroom, he rushes down the hall to Mycroft's room and simply lays on the bed, waiting for his brother to return.

Sherlock stays there silently for an undetermined amount of time. He doesn't know if it's hours or merely minutes, but he hears his mother come and go and the shouting in between. His parents have never fought, Sherlock's never seen them have so much as a petty argument, so he thinks maybe that's why this hurts all the more. With no warning, the fighting is a lot to take on.

He cries against Mycroft's pillow when he hears his father tell his mother he loves her, begging her not to go. And then the door slams shut, and Clement shouts in frustration.

Sherlock closes his eyes and, not for the first time, wishes himself away.

He wakes up later to Mycroft's bedroom door being thrown open. He doesn't move, all he does is open his eyes to see the sun setting outside the window.

"Where have you been?" he asks, his voice deep and strained.

Mycroft quickly steps to the bed. "Sherlock, I'm so sorry."

Sherlock turns onto his back, aching as he sits up. "You were supposed to be here. You said you wouldn't leave me alone!"

Mycroft sits on the bed at Sherlock's feet. "You should have called me. You should have—"

"You should have been here!" Sherlock yells, jumping from the bed.

"Sher—"

Sherlock shakes his head, then runs out of the room.

Sherlock runs all the way out of the house. He has his phone, and his coat, so he begins walking down the street. Nobody follows him, and that's fine, because he wants to get away.

Walking down the street, he suddenly becomes aware that he doesn't have anywhere to go with John out of town. He walks to John's house anyway, then just sits on John's front steps.

Sherlock sighs and takes his phone out. He's got another text from the mystery number. 'Give up?' is all it reads, so he texts back.

To (Unknown): Are you a friend?

He gets a reply nearly instantly.

From (Unknown): Yeah, I'd say so.

He bites his lip. He really doesn't know who it is, but he actually wants any sort of human contact at the moment, just to not be alone. So he replies.

To (Unknown): Meet me at school in ten minutes. I could use a friend.

There's no reply, but he gets up and walks to the school anyway.

He's there quickly, and with nobody else in sight, he sits on the cold front steps. It's growing colder and darker by the second, and he knows he should go home, but he doesn't think anybody cares since nobody's tried to reach him.

Nobody shows up at the school. He tries not to cry as he gets off the steps and walks towards home, but then he hears someone calling to him.

"Leaving already, Holmes?"

He swivels around quickly, recognizing that voice instantly. "Olive."

"I thought you'd want to play my little game. John gave me your number yesterday and asked me to keep you occupied today."

Sherlock wipes his eyes and cracks a smile. "He did?"

Olive steps up to him, looking concerned. "You ok, Holmes?"

Sherlock nods, but slowly that nod turns into a 'no'. "No, I…I…"

Olive grabs his arm and pulls him back towards the school. "Come on. I'm a pretty good listener when I want to be."

Without meaning or wanting to, Sherlock tells Olive everything. He starts with his mother's affair and ends with his parent's fight today, mentioning everything like how he doesn't feel like his mother cares for him and his intense insecurity about love.

"They've never acted like that," Sherlock says. "I've never, ever seen them have even a little argument. Unless it was something that could be proven, like a fact about something that one of them was wrong about."

Olive nods in understanding. "That's some real shit, man. I'm sorry."

Sherlock frowns and rests his chin on his knees.

"My parents are divorced," Olive says.

Sherlock looks at her. "The way you told me their professions that day made it sound like they were together."

"Oh, I mean…I meant my real parents are divorced. My dad isn't my real dad, he's my step-father."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. My real dad left when I was a baby, then my mum met my step-dad and they got married when I was two."

"Oh."

Olive nods. "So, my dad's my dad. They're difficult people."

"Most parents are."

"My dad is wonderful, though. Honestly, I…I don't even want to imagine what it'd be like had my mum not met him."

"That's good."

"He cares for me so much, and that's wonderful because…because my real dad didn't, you know? I do have two parents who love me. I don't need the other one."

"Do you think everyone needs two parents?"

Olive shakes her head. "Doesn't Watson only have one parent?"

"Well, he does have a dad, but—"

"But his mum raises him, right?"

Sherlock nods.

"And he's well and good. From the sounds of it, you've been raised by your dad all along anyway."

Sherlock pauses and thinks. "Well, my brother helps, too."

"Oh?"

"He's seven years older than me. He's kind of another parent."

"So, you do have two parents."

Sherlock nods. "I guess so."

"People love you," Olive says. "Watson's bloody crazy about you."

Sherlock cracks a smile.

"Of course, I've thought he's been crazy about you since primary school."

"What made you think that?"

"The way he'd act when you'd stay home from school. He'd pout all day without you. And there was this one writing journal we had to write once. I had to read his."

"What was it?"

"The prompt was something like, 'How do you see your life in twenty years?'. John's paragraph said he saw himself with you."

"With me?"

Olive shrugs. "Just with. I don't know how. Just…with you."

Sherlock smiles.

"What was it like the first time you two told each other that you love each other?"

Sherlock bites his lip in thought. He shrugs. "It was normal. It felt more normal than kissing. We had been working on an experiment in my bedroom for hours and hours, and he didn't complain once. Finally, as it finished, he said, 'You're lucky I love you.' and I was shocked. So I said, 'Am I?', to which he said yes, then I told him that I love him, and we kissed."

Olive beams at him. "He's crazy about you."

"And I him," Sherlock says.

"I've never had that with anyone," Olive says. "Honestly, I fear for any boy I may ever bring home. My dad will scare him away."

Sherlock laughs.

"No, seriously. My dad's the type of man to be cleaning his gun on the coffee table while I'm sitting there with a boy."

Sherlock laughs harder. "That's something my brother would make his boyfriend do for me, if I wasn't with John."

"Oh, so your brother's got a boyfriend, too?" Olive asks, curious.

"Oh, yeah," Sherlock says. "Family of homosexuals, we are."

Olive laughs. "What are the odds?"

Sherlock shrugs. "Well, figuring there are many different types of sexualities and—"

"I didn't mean that literally, Holmes."

Sherlock sighs. "Oh."

Olive laughs again.

They share a few minutes of silence, then Olive nudges his arm.

"Wanna go get something to eat?"

Sherlock checks the time on his phone and realizes he's been gone for over an hour. "Actually, I should get back. I assume they're going to want to have a 'family discussion'."

Olive nods. "Well, if you need to run away again, you've got my number."

Sherlock stands, then politely helps her up. "Thanks, Olive. Really."

Olive just nods. "You're welcome, Holmes."

She stands on her toes to wrap her arms around his neck, being stiff and awkward as she does so. He awkwardly hugs back, wrapping his arms around his waist and patting her back.

"This is weird," she says after only a second.

He quickly lets her go. "Oh, thank god."

Olive laughs. "Well, see you around."

Sherlock waves once, then turns his direction to go home.

Nobody's on the ground floor when he gets home, so he goes straight upstairs to Mycroft's bedroom. Mycroft is sitting on his chair reading, and he doesn't even look up when Sherlock enters.

"Have a seat," he says, gesturing to the bed.

Sherlock quietly steps over and sits at the edge.

Mycroft finally lowers his book and looks at Sherlock with a soft look on his face. It matches the 'soft voice' that never fails to make Sherlock sad or guilty.

"I'm sorry I shouted," Sherlock spills out without meaning to.

Mycroft sets his book down and moves to sit next to Sherlock. "I'm sorry, too," Mycroft says. "I should have been here."

"No, you should have been enjoying your day with Lestrade, just like you were. I shouldn't have overreacted."

"I came all this way to see you, Sherlock. I should have been here."

Sherlock just nods in understanding.

"How did you feel when they were fighting?"

Sherlock shrugs. "Invisible."

"Invisible?"

"Yeah, it was…it was like they didn't know I was here. It was awful, Myc."

Mycroft nods. "I know, Sherlock. I understand completely."

"How?"

Mycroft takes a deep breath. "Well, they used to fight a lot before you were born."

"They did?"

Mycroft nods. "I didn't think they were going to make it, quite honestly. At age six I looked up what a divorce meant and even planned theirs out, right down to who would pay for my lunches at school. But then…"

Mycroft trails off, so Sherlock looks at him. "Then, what?"

"Then Mother got pregnant. And they realized they needed to work out their problems to have you."

"So…" Sherlock frowns. "I'm the reason Mother is so unhappy that she's cheated on Dad?"

"No, Sherlock!" Mycroft cries. "You made them remember how to love each other. Do you know that when Mother was pregnant with you, she absolutely loved pickles?"

Sherlock makes a face. "Must be why I hate them now."

Mycroft laughs. "She always needed a pickle right before bed. Dad hates pickles, you know that, but he'd let her eat one and still kiss her before bed. One night, I remember, there were no pickles in the house. So what did Dad do? He went out to buy three jars for her."

Sherlock smiles. "He did?"

Mycroft nods. "Yes. Mother and I waited in their big, plush bed for him to return. And it was like…he was her hero."

Sherlock frowns now.

"It's just the end of their run, Sherlock, that's all. It's not anybody's fault, not even Mother's. People grow apart. They've been married for twenty-five years, for god's sake."

"So…does everyone end, then? Will everyone—"

Mycroft shakes his head. "True love, dear brother, lasts a lifetime. I know you compare every relationship you see to yours and John's, but you shouldn't. You and John do have true love. You're his hero, and he's yours."

Sherlock bites his lip. "And Lestrade is yours?"

Mycroft cracks a smile. "Do you know that I think he might be?"

Sherlock can't help but smile widely.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here earlier. I know I let you down."

"It's…it's alright."

"What do you say you and I go to dinner, hmm? I'll even settle for one of those disgusting cheeseburgers you love so much."

"I'm actually thinking pizza," Sherlock says.

Mycroft groans. "Ugh! Even worse!"

Sherlock laughs and stands from the bed. Mycroft follows, kissing Sherlock's head as he moves to leave the room.

The rest of the night is alright. Clement apologizes over and over to Sherlock, telling him that they didn't mean to fight, that things just got out of hand. Sherlock forgives his father with a tight hug, remembering his talk with Olive and knowing that his father is the parent who cares.

Since Mycroft is set to leave at ten the next morning, so the boys go to bed early to wake up early.

On Sunday, Sherlock wakes before his alarm goes off. He frowns at the ceiling, knowing today is the day Mycroft is leaving.

He gets up and goes down to Mycroft's bedroom, finding his brother packing all of his clothes. He slumps over to the bed and throws himself down, landing half on top of Mycroft's shirts.

"Get off!" Mycroft tells him.

Sherlock rolls over so Mycroft can get his shirts up.

"You're so dramatic."

Sherlock sighs dramatically and throws an arm over his face. "Am not."

Mycroft shakes his head. "I'll be back before you know it. As a matter of fact, why don't you visit me next time?"

"Can I bring John?"

"Sure," Mycroft says. "I'm sure he'll fit in your carry-on."

Sherlock chuckles.

"I have to leave in an hour," Mycroft says.

"Are you saying goodbye to Lestrade?"

"Of course," Mycroft says. "He's on his way now to drive me to the airport."

"Oh."

"Is that alright?"

Sherlock shrugs. "It's fine."

"When he gets here, I think you'll be a bit too distracted to even notice me leave."

Sherlock looks at him. "What do you mean?"

"Lestrade's bringing a gift for you."

"A murder?!"

Mycroft shrugs. "You'll just have to see."

Sherlock impatiently waits in Mycroft's bedroom, listening closely for the sound of Lestrade's car. Finally, he hears it, and he jumps up to run downstairs.

"Ah-ah," Mycroft stops him. "Wait here."

Sherlock pouts as Mycroft goes downstairs. He leaves the door open, so Sherlock takes that as invitation to at least leave the room. He lingers in the hall, listening closely for clues as to what his surprise is, but he hears nothing.

"Ok!" Mycroft calls up the stairs minutes later. "Come down, Sherlock!"

Sherlock practically runs downstairs, finding Lestrade still standing by the front door. He's grinning like an idiot, and he nods in the direction of Mycroft.

Sherlock looks over to Mycroft and finally sees his surprise. It's a still-baby Golden Retriever standing patiently next to Mycroft. Sherlock's jaw drops.

"Myc!" he cries.

"Go ahead," Mycroft says to the dog, so the dog runs at Sherlock and pounces on him.

Sherlock picks the dog up and holds it like a baby, and the dog lets him. He rubs his face against Sherlock's shoulder and licks at Sherlock's chin.

"You got me a dog?!"

"Well, of course. I'm not taking him to New York with me. Dad's already said it's alright, and Greg found the perfect pet for you. He's still growing, but he's already housebroken and knows commands like 'sit' and 'stay'."

Sherlock hugs him tight and kisses him back. "What's his name?"

Mycroft smiles and Lestrade laughs. "You'll never guess," Mycroft says. "His name is what attracted Greg to the dog first."

Sherlock curiously looks up.

Lestrade pipes up from behind Sherlock. "His name is Mystery!"

Sherlock's eyes grow wide as he looks at Lestrade and Mycroft in awe. "You're kidding?!"

Lestrade shakes his head. "The guy said, 'This little devious guy is Mystery.' And I said, 'That's it. That's the dog for Sherlock!'."

Sherlock sets the dog down and kneels next to him. "He's amazing. But why, Myc? Why did you get me a dog?"

"You need a companion. Golden Retrievers are loyal and caring, and he'll learn quickly what you're like when you're sad. Dogs like this are often used as service dogs for depression, so I chose him because he'll fit to you."

Sherlock rubs his face against the soft dog hair. "He's amazing."

Mycroft smiles. "I'm glad you like him."

"I love him," Sherlock mutters, happily letting the dog lick his hands and arms.

Lestrade pats his shoulder, then makes his way over to Mycroft.

"I have no doubt you'll be responsible about this pet," Mycroft says. "Especially after last year's…issue…" he examines the floor and under the sofa, as if looking for something.

Sherlock huffs. "I told everyone not to worry. I caught the snake, didn't I?"

"Nonetheless," Mycroft says, shivering. "We don't want a repeat of that now, do we?"

"Don't worry, I'll be careful with Mystery."

"I would hope so," Mycroft says.

Mycroft leaves about an hour later, after saying goodbye to Sherlock and their dad. He tells Sherlock not to worry, that everything will work out, and Sherlock just nods in agreement. He kisses Sherlock once, then follows Lestrade out the door.

Sherlock joins Clement on the sofa as soon as Mycroft leaves. Mystery's sitting on the sofa next to Clement, quietly 'watching' television, too.

Clement pets the dogs head as Sherlock sits. "You like this dog, huh?"

Sherlock pats his own chest once and the dog jumps on him. "I love him already."

Clement smiles. "I had a dog growing up. Well, he belonged to all of us, but he liked me the best. He'd wait for me to get out of school and we'd race home."

Sherlock laughs and flops the dog's ears. "Maybe Mystery will do that for me."

Clement pats Sherlock's knee. "I'm sorry about last night, Sherlock."

Sherlock pulls the dog down against his chest so he can see Clement. "I know."

"I mean it, Sherlock. I lost my cool and I should have never let you hear that stuff."

Sherlock bites his lip. "What else happened?"

Clement sighs. "Your mum said she'll be by to pick up her things sometime…later. And she'll sign the papers as soon as her lawyer looks them over."

Sherlock nods.

"So, I guess it's just you and I then," Clement says.

"And Mystery."

Clement laughs. "And Declan, I guess."

Sherlock looks around, suddenly aware that he hasn't seen Declan since yesterday morning. "Where is he anyway?"

"He stayed over at Duke's all weekend, because of what happened yesterday."

Sherlock nods.

"Where's John been?"

"He was out of town yesterday, but I suppose he's home today."

Clement nods.

"Is it alright if I go see him? Take Mystery to show John?"

"Sure, son. Be home by nine, alright?"

Sherlock nods. "Sure, Dad," he says, standing from the sofa.

He gets his coat on and gets all the way out the door before Clement calls him back.

"Yeah?"

Clement meets Sherlock on the steps and hugs Sherlock tight. "I love you."

"I love you too, Dad."

Clement lets Sherlock go, then Sherlock rushes down the street with Mystery on his heels.

Of course, John loves Mystery. The boys spend all day in the backyard with the dog trying to teach him new tricks. They have a ton of fun, and Sherlock's happier than he'd been in a long time, even more happy than laser tag.

A/N pt 2: Hello, it's me again. So I got a review yesterday that was a question about Sherlock calling John 'captain' last chapter. The question was how long I plan to take this series, I'm assuming you're wondering if that was some sort of foreshadowing? I'm not sure if it was foreshadowing, honestly I just thought it'd be something funny for Sherlock to say (the nickname was something much more, mmm, vulgar, but I thought it was too much). I'm not sure how long I'll take this, but I will probably make John join the army. If you read my story Being 16, I did try to foreshadow enough to make the story line up with the series (if you want to know how, I'd be happy to tell you the plot I haven't written), but this one isn't like that. This one is a standalone AU, but as it ends, I probably will hint that John went on to the Army. The name was just a cute thing that I did, not sure why, but I hope this explanation answered your question, at least a little bit!