Quite An Unusual Family

by BloodyRose1979

It had seemed like such a simple case. What Sherlock didn't expect was to find such an interesting child along the way. A child so much like himself. Intrigued, Sherlock lets the child stay with John and him so he can observe him and possibly train him to follow in his footsteps. He never expected him to become like a son to him. Slight implied Johnlock.

8. The Unusual Woman

Author Note: Yay! I'm back. Sorry again for the long wait. I'm just glad I finished this chapter before September.

I'd like to send my thanks to Ariane DeVere for her written transcripts of the episodes.

Warning: Spoilers for Series 2 and possible 3

Disclaimer: Death Note and its characters belong to Tsugumi Ohba while Sherlock and its characters belong to Arthur Conan Doyle, Mark Gatiss and Steven Mofatt

Chapter 8: The Unusual Woman

The next few cases since the craziness with Moriarty and the pool were simple and uneventful, which was a bit of a relief for John and L. Sherlock, of course, didn't feel the same. He didn't want to deal with a man looking for his fiancée who disappeared the day before the wedding when she clearly just ran off with someone else or a simple robbery of a family heirloom. There was a rather interesting client who claimed that the ashes of his aunt weren't actually her ashes but Sherlock turned him away before he even finished his sentence.

They did take on the robbery case though Sherlock really just dumped it on L. L didn't mind, he decided to use this case as a means to test himself; he wanted to see how well he could do on his own, not that he was literally by himself as John was with him. The client understandably didn't know how to react to a child taking on his case but thankfully didn't give them much trouble. It didn't take long to figure out that the stepdaughter was the culprit. She was planning to sell the family heirloom and use the money to run off with her boyfriend. L smiled to himself when John praised him on his good job; the doctor had followed his lead without question…it was nice to be trusted and taken seriously.

Sherlock was still without something to really focus on. L took advantage of that, taking on some of the other cases brought to him. However, he was still hoping something would catch Sherlock's interest so there wouldn't be so many body parts lying around the kitchen or at least not more than usual. Sherlock and John were starting to get on each others nerves again with Sherlock criticizing John's blog and John returning the favor to Sherlock's own website.

Lestrade had brought them a case about a dead man found in a trunk of a car that should have died in a plane crash. In the end, Sherlock couldn't solve it and insisted that John not write about it on his blog. John was rather amused by the whole thing but Sherlock got offended as John brought up once more how more people looked at his blog than Sherlock's website. Sherlock walked off with a quiet huff.

It was bizarre to say it but it was a relief when Mycroft showed up one day at the flat, though of course Sherlock wouldn't say as much. It was a shame that John was at work instead of there to help ease the usual tension.

"What do you want, Mycroft?" Sherlock gave his usual greeting as Mycroft took John's chair.

"For once, I'm not here to speak with you. I'm here to see the boy." Mycroft said, turning his head to look at said boy on the couch. L looked up from his book, surprised.

"There's someone who wishes to meet you." Mycroft continued now that he had the boy's attention.

"Who?" L asked, carefully bookmarking his page before putting his book down on the cushion beside him.

"He's a very successful inventor that has connections with some very important people."

"What would an inventor want with me?" L asked, curious but wary.

"Lately he's shown an interest in children of high intelligence such as yourself."

"Mycroft." Sherlock nearly growled, leaning forward in his chair.

"Peace little brother. I don't intend to take the boy from you…as of this point." Mycroft said, glancing over at the irate man but keeping his head turned L's way.

"He just wishes to speak with me?" L spoke up before Sherlock could start up an argument over how L belonged to him. Honestly, they fought over the simplest of things at times, much like kids fighting over a toy though L rather not think of himself as such no matter how much truth there might be in that comparison.

"He assured me of such."

L took a moment to think it over. L was curious but still wary. He decided that Mycroft most likely wouldn't allow the meeting if the man meant them any harm.

"Alright."

The person Mycroft spoke of was an elderly man with a kind face and warm eyes. His very presence was almost enough to convince L to let down his guard.

"Hello. My name is Quillish Wammy. It's nice to meet you." He offered his hand with an easy smile. The man spoke as if he was speaking to another adult instead of a child. L appreciated that. L took the man's hand.

"L."

Wammy sat down in John's chair since Mycroft had taken Sherlock's and Sherlock himself had moved to the couch. L joined the detective there.

"Mr. Holmes told me that you had been living on the streets before his brother took you in. Why not bring yourself to an orphanage?"

L tensed at that. He hadn't told Sherlock or John but he had actually lived at an orphanage for some time before the streets. He swore he would never step foot in such a place again. He wasn't going to answer at first but the closeness of the detective beside him encouraged him.

"I wouldn't be treated right in such a place."

"How would you know?"

L said nothing but the man seemed to understand.

"I see." He sighed. "I've always regretted the state of some of the orphanages. I myself grew up in one for some time. I've seen how ostracized some children are. Especially, the gifted ones like yourself. I actually recently finished building an orphanage purely for such children." An arm roughly pulled L into Sherlock's side.

"You said you weren't taking him." Sherlock glared at Mycroft.

"I assure you that is not my intention, Mr. Holmes." Wammy cut in gently.

"What is your intention then?" Sherlock asked.

"My orphanage provides the children with a place to belong but I'm afraid that is all. I have teachers to help hone their skills if they wish it but many of the children seem to feel…purposeless. They don't know what to aim for. A lot of them don't have kind views of the world because of what they have lived through and don't wish to contribute to it. I was hoping you could help me, L."

"Help you?" L asked.

"Mr. Holmes told me that you plan to become a detective like Mr. Holmes here. I was wondering what made you decide such a thing."

"It was because of him." L said after a moment, looking up at the man still holding him close in a more possessive than protective manner. "He might have his flaws but I still respect what he does. He inspired me to use my intellect for the good of others, though he might claim he uses it for other reasons." Sherlock rolled his eyes at that. "I want to be like him…to a degree." L smiled as Sherlock frowned, looking a bit offended. "It's that simple."

Wammy smiled softly.

"I see…a role model. The children don't have anyone like Mr. Holmes. I'll need to find someone they can relate to, someone who can be a good role model." He said, looking both encouraged and disheartened. A sudden crazy idea came to L and he blurted it out without thinking.

"I'll do it." They all turned incredulous eyes on him. L didn't let that deter him.

"I know for sure that I'll be a detective someday. If you're willing to wait, I'll come and be their Sherlock Holmes." He grinned at the thought. Wammy looked to Sherlock for his opinion. L also looked his way. The man looked unsure at first then smirked.

"It's his choice. You'll find no one better besides myself." L practically beamed. Wammy smiled as he stood.

"I'll look forward to it. I'm afraid I have another engagement to attend. If you ever need my help, please don't hesitate to ask." L shook the man's hand with confidence, positive that he would see him again one day.

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It actually wasn't that long after meeting Mr. Wammy that they saw Mycroft again but for a different reason. It was surreal…but not entirely out of the norm for L, which in itself says a lot about what his life had become, to find himself sitting in Buckingham Palace next to a naked Sherlock. The man sat calmly even though only a thin sheet covered his bareness. The man's lack of attire was more by choice than anything as he was refusing to put on his clothes even though they were neatly folded on the table in front of him.

L sighed. He really shouldn't be amazed anymore by how far Sherlock would go in his childish attempts to make things as far from easy as possible for Mycroft. L was relieved when John showed up.

The doctor paused in the grand doorway, giving Sherlock a questioning look most likely in regards to why they were there. Sherlock just shrugged disinterestedly and looked forward once more. John sighed and walked over. He took a seat beside L, putting the boy in the middle of the two. John leaned back to peek over L at Sherlock, no doubt questioning why the man was wearing only a sheet. John sat back, looking forward.

"Are you wearing any pants?" He asked a bit awkwardly, keeping his eyes off Sherlock like the man didn't have the sheet to cover himself.

"No."

"Okay."

John looked the other way but then turned back just as Sherlock looked his way. The two burst out laughing the moment their eyes met. L smiled to himself at the sounds of Sherlock's deep chuckles and John's high-pitched laughter.

"What are we doing here, Sherlock?" John asked after a moment, still smiling.

"I don't know." Even Sherlock still had a grin on his face.

"Here to see the Queen?"

Mycroft had the misfortune of walking into the room at that precise moment and Sherlock of course didn't let such an opportunity go to waste.

"Oh, apparently, yes." Sherlock said. The two lost it once more. Mycroft looked at them, exasperated.

"Just once, can you two behave like grown ups? Honestly, even the boy is behaving better." That wasn't entirely true; L was just barely holding himself together. John made it all the harder with his response.

"We solve crimes, I blog about it and he forgets his pants, so I wouldn't hold out too much hope."

Mycroft let out a deep breath through his nose but didn't respond beyond that. He moved forward and picked up Sherlock's clothes. He held them out expectantly but Sherlock just stared at them uninterested. Mycroft let out a real sigh this time.

"We are in Buckingham Palace, the very heart of the British nation." His tone turned stern. "Sherlock Holmes, put your trousers on." L doubted the man believed it would be that easy as things never were with Sherlock.

"What for?" Sherlock shrugged.

"Your client." Sherlock stood up.

"And my client is?" He asked, tensely.

Another man suddenly walked into the room, speaking up.

"Illustrious in the extreme and remaining entirely anonymous."

Mycroft greeted the man with a smile, shaking his hand.

"May I apologize for the state of my little brother?"

"Full-time occupation, I imagine." Sherlock scowled but both men ignored that. The man named Harry, clearly an equerry, turned to John.

"This must be Doctor John Watson, formerly of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliners."

John was surprised but pleased that he was recognized and acknowledged before Sherlock for once. He shook the man's hand. L wasn't sure if the man did it intentionally just to rile Sherlock up or not but he turned to L to give a vaguely interested introduction before truly acknowledging the man dressed only in a sheet.

"And Mr. Holmes the younger. You look taller in your photographs."

"I take the precaution of a good coat and a short friend." Sherlock replied with a clipped tone. John shot him a look at that last comment but anything he might have said was pushed to the side just as he was as Sherlock approached Mycroft.

"I don't do anonymous clients. I'm used to mystery at one end of my cases. Both ends is too much work." He stiffly turned to walk out of the room. Mycroft wasn't about to simply let him go. L sat taken aback as Mycroft deliberately stepped onto the trailing edge of the sheet. Sherlock continued forward unaware. John stepped forward slightly as the sheet slipped off though it was clear he was too far away to save Sherlock's remaining dignity. Sherlock thankfully stopped and tugged what he could back around himself before it was too late.

"This is a matter of national importance. Grow up." Mycroft scolded.

"Get off my sheet!" Sherlock spat back through gritted teeth.

"Or what?"

"Or I'll just walk away." Sherlock feigned nonchalance.

"I'd let you."

"Boys, please. Not here." John gently intervened before the two could get any more childish.

"Who. Is. My. Client?" Sherlock emphasized each word, voice tense with rage. Mycroft, as always, was unfazed by his brother's upset.

"Take a look at where you're standing and make a deduction. You are to be engaged by the highest in the land. Now for God's sake..." Mycroft broke off, trying to get his anger under control. He finished with an exasperated tone. "…put your clothes on!"

They all sat down now that Sherlock had finally relented. Mycroft pulled out a photograph from his suitcase, handing it to Sherlock. L leaned closer to the man to peer at it.

"What do you know of this woman?"

Sherlock paused for a second to look at the pale, beautiful woman in the photograph.

"Nothing whatsoever." He replied disinterested.

Mycroft explained that the woman, Irene Adler, was involved in two political scandals recently, not that Sherlock had any interest in that.

"You know I don't concern myself with trivia. Who is she?"

"She's professionally known as The Woman. There are many names for what she does. She prefers 'dominatrix.' She provides…recreational scolding for those who enjoy that sort of thing and are prepared to pay for it." Mycroft explained, pausing momentarily while giving L an almost hesitant look. That was enough to really explain what Adler did for a living. L might not know much regarding the subject because of his age but he was aware at least that it existed.

"And I assume this Adler woman has some compromising photographs." Sherlock continued, unfazed by the topic. "Photographs of whom?"

"A person of significance to my employer. We'd prefer not to say any more at this time." Harry replied. Sherlock glared at him.

"Will you take the case?" Harry asked.

"What case? Pay her, now and in full. As Miss Adler remarks in her masthead, "Know when you are beaten." Sherlock replied tensely, reaching for his coat.

"She doesn't want anything." Sherlock stopped at Mycroft's words. He faced him, showing some interest.

"She got in touch, she informed us that the photographs existed, she indicated that she had no intention to use them to extort either money or favor." Sherlock's eyes shined.

"Oh, a power play. A power play with the most powerful family in Britain. Now that is a dominatrix. Ooh, this is getting rather fun, isn't it?"

"Sherlock." John chided softly but Sherlock either didn't hear him or simply ignored him. Sherlock grabbed his coat and stood up.

"Where is she? Never mind just text me the details. I'll be in touch by the end of the day."

"You really think you'll have news by then?" Harry asked, clearly not expecting much. Sherlock turned to him with a smirk.

"No, I think I'll have the photographs." The man gave him a doubtful look. Sherlock quickly looked him over, clearly doing one of his famous scans. L was looking forward to Sherlock showing off.

"Can I have a box of matches?" He asked the equerry suddenly. "Or your lighter?"

"I don't smoke." The man replied.

"No, I know you don't but your employer does."

There was a moment of silence as the man just stared at Sherlock in reluctant awe. He slowly took out a lighter and handed it to Sherlock who said nothing but everyone could see the smugness radiating off him. Mycroft softly sighed but didn't reproach his brother. L jumped off the couch to follow after Sherlock as he left the room with his usual dramatic flair. They stopped momentarily when Mycroft spoke up.

"Sherlock…I recommend you don't bring the boy with you."

"Something you're not telling us?" Sherlock asked, sending his brother a critical look.

"It's more of a precaution, considering the nature of Irene Adler's work. Best not to expose him to too much so early." Sherlock rolled his eyes and continued on without responding.

Despite Sherlock's disregard of Mycroft's warning, John still had them drop L off back at Baker Street. L and Sherlock both scowled the whole ride. L didn't complain though. Mrs. Hudson was more than happy to have L around and L was more than happy to partake in her candies and pastries. L wished John good luck as an impatient Sherlock yanked the man out of Mrs. Hudson's kitchen without sparing L a glance. L sat down at the table and bit into a strawberry tart, hoping the case would go as smooth as Sherlock believed it would.

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Though John was sure he wouldn't admit it, Sherlock had clearly underestimated Irene Adler. Not only was she expecting them to drop by but she also seemed to easily throw Sherlock off his game. Sherlock couldn't really be blamed though; John was sure there weren't many woman, if any, that would greet strangers stark naked as if she did it on a daily basis, which given her line of work was very plausible.

The whole situation was very uncomfortable for John at least. Having to keep his eyes from wandering was hard enough but the long intense stares Irene and Sherlock were giving each other really irked him. John was used to feeling like he didn't exist because of Sherlock's tendency to focus solely on whatever he was working on but it had never been because he was focusing on another person before. There was the Moriarty case but John rather forget the whole thing if you don't mind. Overall it was a new experience that he didn't particularly care much for.

Irene Alder's roaming gaze paused where John had punched Sherlock earlier at the man's insistent demands in order to create a believable story to get them inside. Not that it mattered much since Irene didn't buy it. She smirked coolly, sending John a quick knowing look.

"Somebody loves you. If I had to punch that face, I'd avoid your nose and teeth too."

John forced a laugh. He had held back from punching Sherlock anywhere seriously damaging and it hadn't even been a conscious decision at the time. It seemed that he couldn't bring himself to really hurt the man, no matter how irritating he could be. He rather not ponder on it right then but he was sure it wasn't for the reason Irene was implying. He pushed the whole matter aside and asked Irene to put something on, even offering her a napkin.

"Why? Are you feeling exposed?" She asked as she stood, looking amused.

"I don't think John knows where to look." Sherlock said as he offered his coat to the woman. John would have glared his way if he wasn't so preoccupied in making sure his gaze didn't fall below Irene's face.

"No, I think he knows exactly where." Irene replied with a grin. She turned a curious look Sherlock's way as she took the offered coat. "I'm not sure about you." She said, noticing his easily averted gaze.

It seemed the woman was full of similar implications regarding the two of them but Sherlock was unfazed by it. John let out a quiet sigh of relief as Irene tightly wrapped the coat around herself.

The two got to talking and Sherlock, amazing as he was, managed to get Irene to unintentionally confirm that the photographs were in that very room. Sherlock then instructed John to watch the door and let no one in. The look he sent the doctor told him more than he was saying however. John left the room and quickly got to work.

Back inside the room, Sherlock made conversation while buying time. He didn't have to wait long before the sound of a fire alarm started. Irene's gaze immediately fell on the large mirror over the fireplace. Sherlock followed her gaze with a glint in his eyes.

"Thank you. On hearing a smoke alarm, a mother would look towards her child. Amazing how fire exposes our priorities." Or explosives, he mentally added as he had a momentary flashback to the pool encounter with Moriarty.

He shook off the memory and continued on without pause. He walked over to the fireplace and ran his fingers along the mantelpiece. He quickly found a switch underneath and pressed it. The mirror slid upwards, revealing a small wall safe.

"All right, John, you can turn it off now." Sherlock called out loud enough to be heard over the alarm. There was a moment or two more of beeping before it abruptly cut off. Sherlock turned his attention onto the number pad of the safe. He started trying to deduce what the code was, spouting off information as he went.

"I'd tell you the code right now but you know what? I already have." Irene interrupted. Sherlock turned to her with a frown.

The door suddenly burst open as a group of men with guns barged in with John forced in at gunpoint. The leader, later known as Neilson, ordered Irene to the floor. She was pushed down next to John when she remained in place. Sherlock raised his hands above his head as the man turned a gun on him.

"Open the safe." Neilson ordered.

"American." Sherlock pointed out calmly, noting the man's accent. "Interesting. Why would you care?" He asked, glancing at Irene.

"The safe." The man urged.

"I don't know the code."

"We've been listening. She said she told you."

"Well, if you'd been listening, you'd know she didn't." It seemed Sherlock couldn't stop himself from being his snarky self even in such a situation.

"For God's sake. She's the one who knows the code. Ask her." John blurted out tensely. The gun at the back of his neck was putting him on edge. He could feel adrenaline flooding his veins but didn't dare make a move.

"She also knows the code that will automatically call the police and set off the burglar alarm." Neilson pointed out. He kept his eyes on Sherlock and then spoke again after a few seconds.

"Mr. Archer. At the count of three, shoot Dr. Watson." He said decisively. John's heart leapt into his throat as the gun was pressed further into his neck and cocked.

"I don't have the code." Sherlock insisted but the man was unmoved. He started counting down.

"She didn't tell me! I don't know it!" Sherlock was raising his voice now as the smell of chlorine filled his nose. The impossibility of it didn't cross his mind as his thoughts were all in a panic.

John. They're going to kill John. No. Got to stop them. John. Have to do something. Something. ANYTHING.

Heart pounding, Sherlock looked to Irene. She pointedly lowered her gaze.

"Stop!" Sherlock cried out as logic pushed through the panic, bringing an epiphany with it.

Neilson held up his hand, stopping his countdown. Sherlock slowly turned to the safe. He paused before slowly inputting what he believed was the code. His heart pounded as he pressed the last number. He sighed as the safe beeped then unlocked.

"Open it please."

Sherlock glanced again at Irene. She lowered her gaze again and made a tiny jerk with her head.

"Vatican cameos." He said urgently before opening the safe, hoping John reacted to their code in time. He ducked down as John threw himself onto the floor. A gun hidden in the safe went off with the use of a tripwire. The man behind John was shot straight in the chest. The room erupted into action. Irene savagely elbowed the man above her in the groin. She grappled for his gun as he crumbled then used it to knock the man out while Sherlock did the same with the leader and his gun. He then turned and grabbed the contents of the safe, which turned out to be a locked camera phone. Irene demanded he return it to her but Sherlock of course refused.

"Sherlock!" John called from another room. He had found where the men had gotten in. Sherlock clutched the phone tightly and went to meet him.

He found the doctor looking over Irene's unconscious assistant in an upstairs bedroom. John then made the mistake of leaving Sherlock alone with Irene as he went to check the back door at her suggestion. Irene wasted no time. She injected Sherlock with a syringe while he was distracted trying to unlock the phone. She then slapped him hard, making him fall to the floor as he lost control of his legs.

"Give it to me." She demanded but he still refused even as his vision went blurry. She proceeded to beat him with a riding crop till he dropped it. She fondly but smugly bid him farewell as she pocketed the phone in the coat she was still wearing. She climbed onto the windowsill as John reentered the room. He rushed to Sherlock's side once he saw him.

"Sherlock!" He turned to Irene once he saw the syringe. "What did you give him?" He demanded, glaring fiercely. Irene assured him that the man would be fine before toppling backwards out the window, using the rope along the side of it to land safely. John didn't think about pursuing. He checked Sherlock over and decided that he wasn't in any immediate danger. He called Lestrade for there was no way John was going to be able to get Sherlock home by himself. He sat there with Sherlock until he got there, keeping a close eye on him all the while.

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L got more and more uneasy the longer it took for John and Sherlock to get home from meeting Irene Adler. However, he never expected for John to return while half supporting, half carrying a stumbling, rambling Sherlock. Lestrade was also there but he seemed more amused than concerned as he held his phone out, clearly filming the whole thing. John noticed him and gave him a tired smile but didn't stop to talk as he continued his struggle. Saving his questions, L went ahead and opened Sherlock's door for them.

John set Sherlock down on his bed as gently as he could. He then fumbled about as he worked to get the man under the top sheet. Thankfully, Sherlock passed out the moment his head hit the pillow so they didn't have to worry about him stumbling from bed at that point in time.

Clearly happy to be relieved of his burden, John sunk into his chair in the sitting room. He thanked Lestrade for his help as the inspector left. John gave a brief explanation of what happened to L. John clearly didn't like Irene much but that was understandable given what she did to Sherlock. L decided not to be so quick to judge; Irene was clearly desperate to get the phone back and he doubted it was just because of the pictures. He still didn't appreciate what she did though. Whatever else was on the phone, L was sure they would see Irene again; she showed too much interest in Sherlock for them not to.

A couple hours passed and the doctor made no move beyond checking in on Sherlock. The man clearly intended to stay up all night on watch like the good friend and doctor that he was. L wanted to stay up with him and keep him company but John just shook his head and shooed him off to bed with a smile.

"And make sure you actually try to get some sleep." John said, not quite ordering but close enough. "I'll know if you didn't." L rolled his eyes slightly but did as he was told. There may be many benefits but it wasn't always easy living with a doctor, especially one as responsible and passionate as John.

Sherlock was back to his usual self the next morning. Apparently there had been an incident last night when he woke up, still out of sorts, claiming Irene had been in his room. John had dismissed him at the time but there was no dismissing the return of Sherlock's coat and phone, which had been in the pocket. Irene had taken the liberty of altering it to her tastes so that whenever Sherlock got a message from her, it would let out an obscene moan, no doubt made by the woman herself. Well you certainly can't say that L was wrong about her being…interested.

The first time L heard the phone's new message alert was when Mycroft had dropped by that morning to ask about the pictures. It was an understandably awkward and bizarre moment.

"What was that?" John asked with a frown.

"A text." Sherlock replied, trying to look nonchalant. He got up and picked up his phone. He ignored the others as he read it. He quickly shifted subjects.

"Did you know there were other people after her too, Mycroft, before you sent John and I in there? That wouldn't happen to be the real reason you had us drop L off first, now would it?"

"Yeah, thanks for that Mycroft." John said, turning his attention.

Mrs. Hudson came in then with a tray of breakfast. She smiled at L as she carefully placed a plate of blueberry pancakes in front of him. He noted the additional sugar drizzled over them and thanked her with a big grin.

Mrs. Hudson went on to scold Mycroft for putting Sherlock in danger as she passed the rest of the plates around. Exasperated by the whole thing, Mycroft told her to shut up. Sherlock and John both turned on him instantly, furiously chiding and glaring. L snickered to himself as Mycroft stood there, taken aback and at a lost. He carefully apologized after a moment. Mrs. Hudson continued on, satisfied.

"Though do, in fact, shut up." Sherlock said after her. L just shook his head with a smile.

Mycroft left the room then to take a phone call. Sherlock watched him closely but was distracted as John began questioning him again about his phone. Sherlock tried to brush it off by saying it was a prank but that didn't stop John.

"I'm wondering who could have got hold of your phone, because it would have been in your coat, wouldn't it?" Sherlock lifted the newspaper so that it obscured his face.

"I'll leave you to your deductions." He simply said.

"I'm not stupid, you know." John said with a smile.

"Where do you get that idea?" L ate another piece of his pancake, silently amused. Mycroft strolled back into the room, phone still to his ear. He finished his conversation then hung up.

"What else does she have?" Sherlock asked, looking up from his paper. Mycroft turned to him, waiting for him to elaborate. "Irene Adler. The Americans wouldn't be interested in her for a couple of compromising photographs. There's more."

"Much more." He emphasized as he stood up to face his brother. Mycroft maintained a stony face, revealing nothing. Sherlock stepped closer.

"Something big is coming, isn't it?"

"Irene Adler is no longer any concern of yours. From now on you will stay out of this." Mycroft said. L frowned at that. It didn't feel like Mycroft's usual controlling ways; there was a real warning behind it, one L was sure Sherlock would ignore.

"Oh, will I?" Sherlock asked, locking eyes with Mycroft.

"Yes, Sherlock, you will." Sherlock simply shrugged and turned away.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a long and arduous apology to make to a very old friend." Mycroft said.

"Do give her my love."

Sherlock picked up his violin and started playing "God Save the Queen." Mycroft rolled his eyes and left the room. L and John grinned as Sherlock followed along behind him, playing all the while. Sherlock moved to the window after Mycroft rushed down the stairs.

Irene sent Sherlock many messages and though it seemed Sherlock never responded, he always read them and seemed to think about her often. L knew Sherlock's interest in Irene was mainly due to her intelligence as was always the case with Sherlock as seen with Moriarty and L himself. He didn't feel as concerned about Sherlock's interest or fixation on Irene as he did during the Moriarty case though he still wasn't happy about it. L didn't see Irene as an immediate danger like Moriarty; she wouldn't kill Sherlock or anyone he cared about in order to "burn" his heart out but she was still a threat to it. It really seemed like she was in the perfect position to worm her way into Sherlock's heart and damage it from the inside. Sherlock was very vulnerable and inexperienced with manners of the heart. L was certain that if Irene betrayed him, Sherlock would lock his heart up even tighter than it was already; he'd never willingly trust anyone else beyond those he already trusted, which were so few. L didn't want to ever see that. L didn't know if Irene meant Sherlock harm or if she was even fully aware of just how capable she was of doing so.

Time passed rather quickly and suddenly it was almost Christmas. L didn't say as much but he got a bit emotional when he realized it was not only his first Christmas with Sherlock and John but his first Christmas with anyone of meaning in years. He was sure the two men noticed this but neither mentioned it. He didn't know if Sherlock thought much of the holiday but L wasn't going to let that stop him from celebrating it with them to the fullest. He decided to use his allowance to find gifts for the two. He asked Mrs. Hudson if she would go shopping with him. She gladly agreed so they bundled up against the cold and headed out.

L wasn't really sure what he should get for the two at first. He never had to buy something for someone before so he was at a bit of lost. He knew he was rather limited financially so he wasn't planning anything grand but rather something practical and useful. They looked for a couple hours before L finally found something that he thought John might appreciate. It was a sleek black notebook with a slot along the binder for a pen. L had noticed that John's notebook was filling up. The man used it to take notes on cases but also to write down sudden thoughts he would later add to his blog. It was about time for a new one. It was a bit pricy but not too bad.

Sherlock was harder to find something for. Nothing really practical came to mind and L was pretty sure Sherlock would scoff at anything sentimental. Sentimental it would have to be it seemed as L was stuck awe struck at the item before him. It was a beautifully crafted king chess piece, highly detailed and subtly patterned. It was made from glass and slightly larger in size than the usual pieces, clearly meant to be decorative rather than used in the actual game. The piece was clearly meant to be a white one but the glass had a slight bluish tint to it, reminding L of Sherlock's eyes. L knew that Sherlock didn't particularly like the game but he still played with L every now and then and that meant a lot to him. L never told Sherlock this since the man had little patience for sentimental things despite being rather sentimental himself at times. L still wanted to show how much those little matches, those moments where he had Sherlock's full attention meant to him. It was considerably more expensive than the notebook but L had to have it. He started calculating how many little jobs he'd have to do for the neighbors so he could have enough money. Mrs. Hudson decided to pay the remaining amount. She insisted that he could pay her back later over time. L was hesitant but ultimately agreed. Overall, L felt it was a rather successful first try for him.

It was decided that there would be a Christmas Eve party at Baker Street with their friends. Naturally, it was more Mrs. Hudson and John's idea than Sherlock's. It started off better than expected however. Sherlock humored Mrs. Hudson and played Christmas songs on his violin for her. He only really started misbehaving when John's current girlfriend arrived. Sherlock pretended not to remember which one she was and used a rather insulting way to remember. L just shook his head at him but it did make L wonder for a moment whether John really thought the relationship was going to last. L doubted it would. Sherlock took up too much of John's time for him to really develop a nice, stable relationship with anyone else, at least in L's opinion, not that he had any experience with romantic relationships or any relationships in general.

Things really seemed to spiral from there with the arrival of Molly Hooper. Sherlock was clearly reaching the end of his ropes regarding the usual, expected pleasantries and everything. Molly's attempt to catch Sherlock's interest with a nice dress was unsuccessful. L really pitied the woman; she was trying so hard. Sherlock, being his usual self, couldn't hold in his deductions whether it was telling Lestrade that his wife was cheating on him or that John's sister was still drinking. It was then that he turned his famous Sherlock scan on Molly.

"I see you've got a new boyfriend, Molly, and you're serious about him. In fact, you're seeing him this very night and giving him a gift." There was no way this was going to end well and John and Lestrade clearly realized this as both tried to shut Sherlock up but the man wouldn't be stopped.

"Oh, come on. Surely you've all seen the present at the top of the bag, perfectly wrapped with a bow. All the others are slapdash at best. It's for someone special, then."

The man started walking Molly's way. The woman was clearly uncomfortable but couldn't seem to speak up.

"The shade of red echoes her lipstick, either an unconscious association or one that she's deliberately trying to encourage. Either way, Miss Hooper has love on her mind. The fact that she's serious about him is clear from the fact she's giving him a gift at all."

Oh god, he was so dense at times. L hopped up and grabbed the gift just as Sherlock was reaching for it. This succeeded in distracting the man for the moment at least. L now had his full attention. L held the gift close, away from prying hands. He directed a firm look Sherlock's way.

"Enough."

Sherlock seemed to come back to himself then, fixing his gaze on Molly. The woman wasn't quite on the verge of tears yet but was clearly preparing herself for the worst. Sherlock turned away then stopped. He turned back and slowly approached Molly. He stopped in front of her and hesitated momentarily.

"I am sorry. Forgive me."

Speechless, Molly nodded after a second or two. Sherlock drew back and walked away amidst the stunned silence. L smiled to himself before carefully handing the gift to Molly. She took it gratefully, giving L a shaky smile. L returned to his seat, grabbing another cookie while John wasn't looking.

Whatever peace returned was interrupted once more by a familiar text alert. Molly and Lestrade, having never heard it before, were startled and confused but Sherlock just pulled his phone out without concerning himself with them. John narrowed his eyes Sherlock's way.

"Fifty-seven." He called out, successfully catching Sherlock's attention. The man looked up from his phone.

"What?"

"Fifty-seven of those text, at least the ones I've heard." John's voice was tense and rather disapproving.

Lestrade didn't quite know what was going on but the sound of the text alert and John's reaction was definitely curious. The inspector threw L an incredulous look. It was easy to see just what assumptions the man was making and L didn't blame him. L wasn't sure if jealous was the most accurate way to describe the way John had been acting but it certainly would seem that way to others. He wasn't sure if even the doctor knew why he felt whatever it was he felt. L gave a shrug in return.

Sherlock turned his attention back to his phone. The man suddenly walked to the mantelpiece, responding a bit distractedly.

"Thrilling that you've been counting."

L watched as the man picked up a small box, wrapped in blood-red paper. It was neatly tied with a black rope-like string. L stood instantly as Sherlock's face tightened suddenly. The man excused himself and made for his bedroom. John showed a moment of concern but he didn't seem that worried as he was still dwelling on the text messages.

"D'you ever reply?" He called after the man but he was ignored as the bedroom door closed behind Sherlock.

L stared after the man but ultimately sat back down. He looked at plate of cookies still in front of him but the worry churning in his gut cost him his appetite.

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Sherlock never returned to the sitting room that night. Eventually Molly, Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson left. John had plans to go out with his girlfriend but then he got a call from Mycroft. Irene Adler had been found dead. Sherlock had predicted it when it turned out that present from the mantle was Irene's still locked camera phone. He had gone and identified the body. Mycroft was worried that Sherlock might have a relapse so he had John and L search the flat for any drugs. They found none but Mycroft still asked John to stay and watch Sherlock. John's girlfriend didn't take it well. She clearly wasn't going to take being second priority to Sherlock Holmes. L winced as John accidentally mixed her up with his last girlfriend while trying to convince her to stay. Yeah…John wouldn't be seeing her again.

Sherlock did eventually return to the flat. John and L had waited for him in the sitting room. The man said nothing at first; he just looked around the room, not responding to John. Looking at him, L wasn't sure if the reality of the situation had fully set in yet. The man's face was a bit tense but overall emotionless. Sherlock finally spoke.

"Hope you didn't mess up my sock index this time." He then retreated to his room, slamming the door behind him.

Christmas morning wasn't any better. You couldn't even call it Christmas morning; there was no bright cheerfulness as presents were exchanged and opened and no warm feeling as time was spent with those close to you. L still got a present from John and Mrs. Hudson and had given his gift to John but it wasn't at all like L was anticipating. The events of the night before had completely trumped any good feeling.

Sherlock had taken to composing on his violin and wasn't eating at all, which wasn't entirely out of the norm but still concerning given what had happened. The noticeably sad tune was more revealing than the man's closed off expression. L watched the man with sad eyes, clutching the present that had taken him a long while to wrap under the guidance of Mrs. Hudson. He hated seeing the man like this. L knew cheering the man up was beyond him but he still wanted to at least distract him for a moment.

Sherlock continued to play, either ignoring or unaware as L stepped into the room. He carefully put the present down on the table where he knew Sherlock would see it eventually; it was a bit hard to miss as the white wrapping paper stood out on the dark wood. It hurt to think that the meaning behind the present had changed from expressing gratitude and care to distracting Sherlock from his pain over losing someone. L quietly left the room. He didn't worry at this point anymore whether Sherlock liked the gift but part of him was still reluctant to see the man's rejection of it.

L decided to go sit with Mrs. Hudson for a while. He passed John on the doctor's way out the front door. The man gave him a forced grin, just as concerned about Sherlock as him. L waited at the bottom of the stairs until the door closed behind the man then made his way to Mrs. Hudson's flat.

John stood outside the door a moment and let out a sigh. He made to turn to the left and continue on but was stopped.

"John?"

John didn't recognize the attractive woman standing in front of a parked black car but the situation was familiar enough. He sighed.

"You know, Mycroft could just phone me, if he didn't have this bloody stupid power complex."

Despite his complaints, he obediently slipped into the car, leaving the door open for the woman to follow him in. Their destination was rather ironic considering what he had said about Mycroft before getting in the car. John followed the woman into the large power plant. She led him down a series of twists and turns before gesturing him on alone. John entered the large room and looked around. He started talking even before he saw the umbrella wielding man.

"He's writing sad music. He doesn't eat and barely talks, only to correct the television." Finally someone stepped out of the shadows on the other end of the room. He approached, still talking all the while.

"I'd say he was heartbroken but he's Sherlock. He does all that anyw..." He trailed off once he saw just whom he was speaking to.

"Hello Dr. Watson." Irene Adler greeted him. She had her hair all done up nice while wearing the same lipstick as before and clearly not dead.

John just stared at her, disbelieving. Something stirred in him after a moment, something hot and burning. He took a deep breath, trying to contain it. His attempts at restrain quieted his voice but his expression no doubt showed the deep anger and hatred he felt for the woman in front of him at that moment.

"Tell him you're alive."

Whatever his expression or tone, Irene was unfazed. She shook her head.

"He'd come after me."

"I'll come after you if you don't." John warned or threatened; at that moment he wasn't quite sure which.

"I believe you." She said but John had the feeling she was just trying to play him; it wouldn't be uncharacteristic of her that's for sure.

"You were dead on a slab. It was definitely you." His voice was rising then.

"DNA tests are only as good as the records you keep."

"And I bet you know the record-keeper."

"I know what he likes, and I needed to disappear."

"Then how come I can see you, and I don't even want to?" She seemed just as fed up with this whole meeting as him as she finally got right to the point.

"Look, I made a mistake. I sent something to Sherlock for safe-keeping and now I need it back, so I need your help."

"No," was his immediate response.

"It's for his own safety." She insisted.

"So is telling him you're alive." There was no way John was going to let that rest.

"I can't." He started breathing heavily as the anger grew to fury.

"Fine. I'll tell him, and I still won't help you." He spun around and stormed away.

"What do I say?"

"What do you normally say? You've texted him a lot." He cried furiously, turning back. She pulled out her phone and held it up as John glared at her.

"Just the usual stuff."

"There's no 'usual' in this case." She proceeded to read back the messages from her phone.

""Good morning"; "I like your funny hat"; "I'm sad tonight. Let's have dinner"..." The last one startled John but she continued on before he could say anything.

""You looked sexy on 'Crimewatch.' Let's have dinner"; "I'm not hungry, let's have dinner"."

"You...flirted with Sherlock Holmes?!" He asked in angry disbelief.

"At him." She replied casually as if such a thing had no meaning, which to her, it probably didn't. That made it all the worse.

"Are you jealous?" She asked, clearly trying to push John's buttons.

John couldn't deny that he hated whatever it was between Sherlock and Irene but jealous might have been pushing it. However, the denial wouldn't move past his throat so maybe there was more truth to it than he initially realized.

"Oh? You're not going to deny it?"

"This isn't about me. This is about Sherlock. Tell him you're alive."

She sighed as she typed a quick message into her phone then sent it.

"There…"I'm not dead. Let's have dinner.""

Satisfied, John went to leave without sparing the woman another glance or word. Both jumped as the infamous text alert broke the tense silence. John quickly made his way towards the sound but Irene held a hand out.

"I don't think so, do you?" John stood there, lost on just what to do.

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Sherlock returned to Baker Street in a slight daze. He couldn't really categorize what he was feeling upon finding Irene Adler alive and well but it wasn't entirely, if at all, positive. His emotional instability was interrupted once he reached the front door. He paused as he scanned it intently. He then slowly stepped forward, pushing the door open. He quietly entered the empty front hall, looking everything over. Mrs. Hudson's door was ajar and there were cleaning supplies left in the hallway. He frowned then moved to the stairs. The fresh marks along the wall painted a vivid picture in his mind. His whirl of emotions from earlier fully settled then. He embraced the murderous rage that filled him as he climbed the stairs.

Sherlock carefully pushed the door open to the flat, knowing what he was about the find. Mrs. Hudson and L were waiting for him along with three other men, one familiar. Sherlock's expression hardened as he saw the gun pressed against Mrs. Hudson's head. The woman was crying quietly, holding her hands together in prayer. Sherlock looked around and spotted L in a similar situation. The boy's lip was split and bleeding and his cheek was swollen but he was overall calm and composed. He watched Sherlock with sharp eyes as the man strolled into the room till he was facing the man and Mrs. Hudson.

"I believe you have something that we want, Mr. Holmes." Neilson said with the same arrogance as the day at Irene Adler's place.

"Then why don't you ask for it?" Sherlock asked, carefully approaching Mrs. Hudson. He gently grasped her shaking hands. He used that moment to better assess the damage done to the poor woman. There are bruises on her right wrist, a tear in the shoulder of her cardigan, and a cut on her cheek. The source of the cut was easily traced back to the bloody ring on the man's hand.

"I've been asking this one. She doesn't seem to know anything and the boy wouldn't answer our questions and was making thing rather difficult so…" He trailed off but Sherlock understood. That explained L's state.

"But you know what I'm asking for, don't you, Mr. Holmes?" Sherlock stared intensely at the man, visually noting all his vital points; he had a strong urge to brutally take advantage of those points.

"I believe I do." He let go of Mrs. Hudson's shaking hands and stepped back, restraining himself from lashing out that second as she whimpered.

"First, get rid of your boys."

"Why?"

"I dislike being outnumbered. It makes for too much stupid in the room." The man hesitated for a moment, glancing at L.

"Oh, don't worry. The boy is too smart to try anything now that I'm here."

"You two, go to the car." Neilson told his companions.

"Then get into the car and drive away. Don't try to trick me. You know who I am. It doesn't work." The men left then. L stayed exactly where he was, knowing Sherlock would be able to handle the situation.

"Next, you can stop pointing that gun at me."

"So you can point a gun at me?"

"I'm unarmed." Sherlock said as he stepped back and spread his arms. Neilson went to check of course. He patted Sherlock down. Sherlock rolled his eyes as the man moved behind him to check his back. Sherlock whipped out a familiar spray can from his coat and twisted around. The man screamed as Sherlock sprayed him directly in the eyes. Sherlock then head butted him. The man fell unconscious onto the coffee table.

"Moron."

Sherlock slammed the can onto the other table and hurried over to Mrs. Hudson. L joined him in consoling the woman. Sherlock moved to tie the man up in the chair that Mrs. Hudson left. L sat with the woman on the couch. Sherlock sat down and waited for Neilson to wake. It would have been better if he hadn't as Sherlock immediately broke his nose.

L didn't think it was really a good idea to have Mrs. Hudson in the room if Sherlock was going to keep that up but L understood the man didn't want her out of his sight until John got there at least. Thankfully, it wasn't long before the doctor was running up the stairs. He paused in the doorway as he took in the situation.

"Mrs. Hudson's been attacked by an American. I'm restoring balance to the universe." Sherlock explained calmly as he pointed the gun at the still bound agent. John hurried to Mrs. Hudson. He put his arm around her shoulders and sent his own viscous glare at the man.

"Downstairs. Take her downstairs and look after her."

John quickly did as Sherlock told him and L followed behind. John led them to Mrs. Hudson's kitchen. He sat them both down and started tending to their cuts and bruises. Several moments later something large plummeted down past the window and landed with a crash. They all looked to the window but didn't move as they heard a groan.

Lestrade arrived later to take the agent away in an ambulance. Sherlock then joined the others in the kitchen. John tried to convince Mrs. Hudson to spend some time away from Baker Street but Sherlock was having none of it.

"Don't be absurd."

"She's in shock, for God's sake, and all over some bloody stupid camera phone. Where is it, anyway?"

"Safest place I know." He replied as he took a bite of some mince pie he took from the woman's fridge. Mrs. Hudson laughed as she pulled out said phone from her bra.

"You left it in the pocket of your second-best dressing gown, you clot. I managed to sneak it out when they thought I was having a cry." She said as she handed it to him. Sherlock thanked her before turning to John.

"Shame on you, John Watson. Mrs. Hudson leave Baker Street?" He put a protective arm around the woman's shoulders and pulled her close.

"England would fall." He finished sternly but chuckled when Mrs. Hudson laughed, stroking his hand. John smiled at them.

L watched from the sidelines with his own smile. It was a real heartwarming moment to see them all together like that and it was still hard to believe at times that he was part of it. The look Sherlock suddenly sent him was rather warm and L was sure there was more to it then he understood at that moment but it was nice all the same.

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Several months passed and Sherlock had no luck getting into Irene's phone. He x-rayed it and discovered that there were either small containers of acid or small explosives wired inside the casing; very protective measures to ensure that nothing would be left if someone tried to physically get into the phone. She certainly wasn't willing to take any chances, which was interesting seeing as she allowed Sherlock to hold onto it for that long. It was only a matter of time before she showed up to get it back and she had an interesting way of reintroducing herself. Sherlock was rather calm about finding the woman asleep in his bed but John didn't seem too thrilled. L just decided to retreat to John's bedroom; he wasn't quite keen on sitting through the tension that was sure to come with Sherlock and Irene eyeing each other and John trying to get them both to remember that he existed and was in the room. He was also not eager to meet the woman just yet if at all. She'd already hurt Sherlock once and that was one time too many.

Sherlock wasn't willing to simply hand the phone over but Irene didn't push too hard, which was good; L rather there not be a repeat of the drugging and beating incident. Irene didn't just want her phone back. She showed Sherlock an email she photographed that a MOD official had been bragging would save the world. She needed Sherlock in order to understand it and Sherlock, in a rare moment of naivety, deciphered it without question, seemingly just to show off.

It turned out the email was about a certain flight that was planning to depart to Baltimore the next day at six thirty from Heathrow Airport. Sherlock then made a connection to the last bit of conversation he heard when Mycroft was there last. He spent the rest of the day dwelling on it, so much so that he didn't notice when John left.

L peeked into the sitting room and scowled when he saw that Irene was trying to seduce Sherlock. It looked like Sherlock was all for it but L wasn't quite sure. Thankfully, whatever was about to happen was interrupted as the same man that took Sherlock to Buckingham Palace came to take him somewhere once more. Sherlock initially declined but the man gave him an envelope that convinced him instantly.

L stared as Irene watched from the window as Sherlock got into a car. There was an air of smugness around her that really irked him but there was no denying what he had seen earlier. At that moment when the two were sitting in front of the lit fireplace, hands momentarily locked, Irene gazed at Sherlock with not only want but genuine longing. Whatever her intentions, Irene seemed to hold feelings for Sherlock but L didn't think that would be enough to deter her from using him.

Irene backed away from the window then turned. She froze as she finally spotted him. She was startled; it seemed she had been unaware of his existence until that point. Her reaction wasn't that different from Molly's; it was rather bizarre to think that Sherlock was not only living with a child but also possibly taking care of one.

Irene approached him with a false smile, much like those used by women that pretend to fawn over other people's children just to be polite. She clearly had no real maternal affection or fondness for him.

"Hello there." She greeted with an overly sweet tone.

It had been a long time since L had been talked down to. She clearly didn't expect much from him in terms of anything really and was planning to simply humor him for a minute or two. He scowled inside but maintained a cold expression.

"Is it worth hurting him and yourself?" He asked straight out. She froze and her smile fell. He had actually managed to faze her. He was rather proud of that but he knew that she was still dangerous; he had to be careful. Her gaze shined dangerously and her lips pulled back into a razor sharp smile. She wasn't underestimating him anymore

"What do you mean?" She asked with a hint of a dare, leaning over him menacingly.

"You won't win." He continued, unfazed. "Sherlock will figure you out."

"Oh? Then what?" She asked, smirking.

"He'll leave you to die."

L didn't really believe that such a thing was in Sherlock's nature though a small part of him hoped Sherlock would at least not show her much mercy if any. Irene didn't know Sherlock that well however as there was a flash of panic and fear in her eyes that she wasn't quick enough to contain. Her arrogance and confidence quickly took over though. She straightened with a smug grin.

"Well, I'm sure that I will win so I have nothing to worry about."

L held his ground as the woman patted his head. Her sharp nails pressed against his skull for a second but they were just an empty threat; L knew she wasn't going to hurt him. She slipped past him and down the stairs with an exaggerated sway in her hips.

"Be a good boy while Sherlock is gone, alright?" She called back to him condescendingly. L didn't let it get to him. He waited for the sound of the door closing before moving from his spot. He crouched on the couch, preparing to wait however long it took for Sherlock to get home from what he was sure was the final confrontation with Irene.

Sherlock didn't acknowledge him when he walked into the flat several hours later. L said nothing when he saw the look on his face; it seemed things went as L expected them to. Sherlock just stood in the doorway, not looking anywhere in particular, then retreated to his bedroom.

L and John heard the whole story the next day from Mycroft. It turned out that the email was about a bomb threat. Mycroft had devised a plan to ensure that no one would die without letting the perpetrators know that they knew. He had the plane filled with corpses. When the bomb went off there would be no actual casualties but the people who set the bomb would believe it was a success. Sherlock explaining that email to Irene had exposed Mycroft's plan to Moriarty; she had either been working for him or he had something on her that got her to cooperate with him. Whatever it was, Irene used Sherlock to achieve her own desires.

She blackmailed Mycroft by saying if she revealed that it was Sherlock that had leaked the information, Sherlock would be in serious trouble with the government. Mycroft was willing to go along with her demands in order to protect Sherlock. Thankfully, Sherlock managed to figure out the password for Irene's phone at the last minute, taking away her protection. He didn't hesitate to unlock the phone and wasn't moved when Irene begged with tears in her eyes that she wouldn't even last six months without it.

Mycroft revealed to John two months later that Irene was dead. A group of terrorists had killed her. Mycroft decided to simply tell Sherlock that she was in witness protection. John was given her file with the lie to give to Sherlock if the man wished to look at it. He didn't but he did want to keep the phone that was inside it. John eventually gave in, looking guilty over lying to Sherlock. L was sure the lie was unnecessary. L caught a glimpse of Sherlock's soft yet smug grin as he looked through his phone that night. L was sure it was connected to Sherlock disappearing for two days not too long ago. It seemed he was right…Sherlock hadn't left Irene to die after all.

Things returned to normal after that. Nothing of note really seemed to happen for a while so L was a bit surprised to see a box with his name on it waiting for him on the kitchen table one day. The box was beautifully wrapped with blue wrapping paper and tied with a white ribbon. He cautiously opened it, fearing it might be from Moriarty. Inside was a familiar but notably new looking blue scarf. L's lips pulled back into a giant grin as he carefully pulled it out. The fabric was soft and warm to the touch. He wrapped the scarf around his neck in the same fashion he'd always seen it in.

L turned at the feeling of being watched and found Sherlock watching him. The man was leaning against the sliding door with a pleased air about him. The man's lip quirked up as he watched L mimic his style. L returned the man's amused look but couldn't stop smiling. It seemed Sherlock took L's telling Mr. Wammy that he'd be Sherlock Holmes for the children at his orphanage rather literally. L didn't mind; late or not, it was the best present he had ever received.

Author Note: I sort of rushed a bit at the end so sorry about that.

I always knew I'd bring Watari into the story and here he is. I needed some way for L to get involved in Wammy's house. Hope it was believable. "He'll be their Sherlock Holmes." It might be a poor reason but it still makes me smile.

I added a touch of almost PTSD with Sherlock when Neilson was threatening John if anyone missed it. That's where the smell of chlorine came from, he was having a bit of a flashback to the pool.

It might seem strange that it took Sherlock so long to get L a present in return for the one he got but I see it as a combination of him not opening L's present for a while due to the whole Irene upset and then having to have the scarf tailored to L's size. Also I just really wanted to end the chapter on that. :)

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