"Jack, wake up, wake up!"

I open my eyes and blink hard. I'm still not used to the brightness. The nice doctor said it would take some time, even for Pa. I had fallen asleep against Pa, leaning on his chest. I yawn loudly and Pa groans because it makes him yawn too.

We're all in a big black car that belongs to uncle Mycroft. He's twirling his umbrella and smiles. He doesn't smile with his mouth, because he only does that when he's being creepy, but with the gentle spinning motion of his hands. John looks uncomfortable and is relieved when the car stops. But that's when we notice the large crowds outside holding banners and screaming. I whimper and cover my ears. I don't like loud noises and people.

Pa is shouting at uncle Mycroft. "Why don't your people have this under control?"

Mycroft talks in his phone. John shouts: "Just grab him and run!" And Pa picks me up.

"Hide your face against my neck," orders Pa, "Don't let them see your face." I do as I'm told.

Pa undoes my seatbelt and I'm pulled out of my booster seat. Then I feel Pa running and I really want to look but Pa said no. A person shouts: "I love you, Jack!" and then a door slams and everything is quieter.

Pa puts me down. My legs are shaking. He bends down and pulls off my scarf. "Are you alright?"

I nod. Pa is okay too. He can bend down now without his leg hurting him. He sighs and presses his forehead against mine. His breath smells like toothpaste. We stay like that on the floor while people move around us. Then I hear her voice.

"Oh boys, you're here, you're finally home!"

Pa still has his eyes shut, but he smiles. "Hello, Mrs. Hudson."

"I was so worried, with all the press outside. The police have told me to keep my curtains shut."

Pa bows his head. "I'm so sorry, I didn't want to put you through all of this."

"Nonsense, you silly thing, nonsense. Let's go up to see your flat. I've prepared everything for you."

I sniff like a wolf on the hunt on TV. "I smell food!"

Mrs. Hudson smiles. "I hope you like roast dinner, Jack, because that's what we're having!"

Pa squirms again. "There really was no need."

"Come upstairs, I've sorted everything out!"

We go up the stairs. It's very hard because my legs are very little, so I use my hands to crawl. There are seventeen steps, I counted them, every single one. We arrive in a room and there's a fire. Pa quickly tells me not to panic because it's a fire place and it's supposed to be there to keep us warm and that we won't burn. There are chairs and I run to each one to check their bounciness. It's very important. I flop onto a long chair against the wall called a sofa. I think it's a good place to go to my Mind Palace. I watch as John sits in the black chair and Pa sits on the red one with the blanket and the red white and blue cushion. Mrs. Hudson giggles as we both watch them wriggle and try to get comfortable before they stare at each other and swap. They both sigh at the same time.

"Oh, you two," laughs Mrs. Hudson. "I think you'll both get along well. Now ignore the armchairs and come and sit at the table, before your meal goes cold."

"There's so much colour!" I tell John. "Room and the hospital were very… white.

Pa hums in agreement, and John and Mrs. Hudson look sad. Why are they sad? Pa is safe and there's a warm fire and soft chairs, softer than anything I've ever felt asides from Pa's tee-shirts in Room. We make our way to the kitchen. Pa stops and points at the animal's head on the wall.

"We'll put headphones on it later, that way it won't get bored." I don't understand, so I just nod.

I see the biggest meal I've ever seen! John laughs and tells Mrs. Hudson that she's spoiling us. She waves him off. Pa puts cushions on my chair so I can see the table better. There are those funny things called potatoes and I recognize the peas and carrots. The chicken looks strange and I poke it with my fork.

"If chickens lay eggs, why do we eat them?" I ask Pa.

"Because we do lots of silly things. I'll show you a picture of a real chicken in a minute on my new phone that Mycroft got me."

Pa helps me cut my food. Carrots taste orange and peas taste green and the chicken tastes nice. Pa pokes at his food until the Somebody reaches over the table and gently holds his hands. Pa starts to breathe strangely. Mrs. Hudson looks at me and winks. I don't understand. She mouths 'I'll explain later.' Pa taught me to read lips.

Gravy is poured all over our meals. It tastes nice with the potatoes. Pa says I have to eat with my mouth closed because I need to use my good manners in front of other people. But that's stupid. Pa has always said manners are boring. I tell him so and John laughs. Mrs. Hudson tuts and wags her finger at us, but she doesn't stop smiling.

I'm still afraid. I'm scared the Monsters will find me and Pa and hurt him again. His bruises have almost gone, but when I close my eyes they are still there.

I try lots of new foods. At first, I don't like any of them, but Pa tells me to try more than once. He won't let Mrs. Hudson give me coca cola. He says it's bad, but not bad like poison. So she finds a fruit called an Orange, which is funny because it is orange and she makes fresh orange juice. I like it because it has bits in it. Soon all our plates are clean, except for Pa's.

John squeezes his hand again. "Come on, you can do it."

Pa grips my leg so tightly it hurts. "There's too much.' He squeezes his eyes shut.

"Just try, please."

I watch as he takes small and slow bites from his plate. He doesn't look very well and won't look at me. Mrs. Hudson starts to clear the table and I get up to help. She's surprised but I tell her I always cleared the table in Room. She pats me on the head and tells me I'm a wonderful boy, so I hug her leg because I can't reach much higher. When we've finished, Pa is sat in front of the telly and stares at the screen without blinking. John takes his suitcase up to his own room and someone knocks at the door. I run to Pa for protection, but it's only uncle Mycroft.

Sherlock watches his brother who has arrived accompanied by a few people and Anthea carrying boxes. He remains seated. "What's all this?"

"All your things. I've brought them from the house. Everything was kept when you were kidnapped. I had to convince Mummy not to sell your violin."

As he says this, a nameless man walks in holding a violin case with care. Sherlock swallows and his eyes well up, memories of sitting in the Vault, his eyes closed with his hands in the air, desperate to remember every note and every detail of his violin and the music he had spent hours composing alone, locked away in his bedroom, trying to avoid upsetting his childhood chemistry set. He rises from his chair slowly. "Is that… that is..."

"Your Stradivarius, yes."

Now it's John's turn to stare. "Are you serious? Oh my god, those things are so rare!"

Sherlock flips open the case and Jack clambers over him to peer inside. Inside is the violin, exactly as he remembered it thirteen years ago. He bats his son's fingers away and closes the case, fingers trembling slightly. "what else have you brought?"

"All your school books, toys, pirate outfit for Jack, journals, everything that was yours. Including what you asked for." He holds out a large envelope.

Snatching it from his brother's hands, he rips it open and admires the contents inside. "Jack, look what uncle Mycroft got for you!"

He holds out a sheet of paper at arms length and Jack reads the contents. "It says my name and birthday!"

"It's a birth certificate." Sherlock cups his son's face. "I wanted you to have one. Now everyone knows you exist."

"I'm real in the real world?"

"As real as John and uncle Mycroft. And Mrs. Hudson of course."

"Are you real?"

Sherlock swallows. "Maybe. Soon."

Jack doesn't understand what that means exactly. Maybe his Pa was trapped for too long to belong in the real world now. It's a good thing he will always be there for his Pa. He hugs his leg and looks up at John as he approaches them smiling.

Mycroft Holmes returns to his office an hour later. He sits behind his desk and his eyes fall to the photograph of a 9 year old Sherlock in the pirate's outfit he intends to see Jack wear one day. He wonders if he's getting sentimental as he considers putting a photo of his nephew next to the one of his brother.

"Sentimental old fool," he mutters, allowing himself the tiniest smile.

Anthea walks in and hands over the next days workload. Mycroft rolls his shoulders carefully and immediately concentrates on his duties.

Anthea, however, does not immediately leave. "Sir?"

He looks up. "What is it?"

"I know you did not look at the document, sir. You did not open it before your brother, nor did you ask the lawyer what he requested to be written on your nephew's certificate."

A lone eyebrow crawls up his forehead. "Your point, if you please?"

She hands him an envelope, the word 'copy' on the front and he sighs. She leaves before he can stop her.

Unable to resist, he opens the envelope, and pulls it out, certain he already knows what it will say.

Then he looks at it.

JACK MYCROFT HOLMES

For the first time since his brother went missing, he covers his face with his hands and weeps.