Little Consulting Detective

15

Sherlock opened his eyes and looked up at the ceiling. His mobile was nowhere to be found.

"Daddy?" He said, looking around the dark room. There was no one there, and it was dark. Where was he? Sherlock felt around for his stuffie but it wasn't there. What was going on here?

The door creaked open and a figure approached him, leaving Sherlock scared. He started crying, his dummy falling out of his mouth. The light turned on to reveal John, who sat next to Sherlock on his bed.

"Sherlock, you're alright, you're home now." John soothed, taking the detective in his arms. This only made Sherlock more nervous, and he cried out loud.

John scootched away from Sherlock, not wanting to upset him further. He spotted the dummy in the crumpled blanket and popped it into sherlocks mouth. Sherlock suckled on it and calmed down. He looked up at John and reached his arms out, and John picked him up, carrying him to the living room.

Mycroft looked disappointed and a bit disturbed by how his brother was acting, and lestrade didn't seem sure of how to feel.

"Brother mine, what is acting like an infant going to get you? Where do you think you'll get in life if this gets out?" He asked, a firm tone in his voice. Sherlock looked at him, wide eyed, but turned his attention back to John.

"I don't think he can understand you, mycroft. He's not himself right now." John told him. Mycroft was displeased, but this didn't stop him from trying to get through to his brother.

"Sherlock, please, look at me." He said, going softer than he had in a long long time. Sherlock turned to face him, and John adjusted his grip so he could see the elder. "I know this must have been traumatic for you, but you're home now. You don't have to act the way you were forced to." Mycroft told him. He thought this would snap Sherlock out of his trance, but the detective just started to cry.

"Shh, you're okay Sherlock. Why don't we go get you a bottle?" John said, carrying Sherlock into the kitchen. He snapped out of it and realized that they didn't have any bottles. "What am I doing? We don't have any baby stuff. You're going to have to get used to regular cups-" John said, getting cut off by lestrade.

The inspector walked into the kitchen and set a baby bottle on the table.

"Cheers." John said, smiling. He took the bottle and unscrewed the top, filling it with milk and heating it up. "There we go." He hummed as he screwed the top onto the bottle, retreating to e the living room. He sat in his chair and adjusted Sherlock in his lap, removing the dummy and replacing it with the bottle.

Sherlock drank the milk steadily and rested against John. He couldn't place it, but he knew he was safe with him. As nice as John was though, Sherlock couldn't wait until his daddy brought him home.

)&&<£*~.]<£?€%{{>

Moriarty paced around the master bedroom of irene's house with molly, who was inconsolable.

"Molly, baby, please calm down. Daddy doesn't like to see you so miserable." He cooed, patting the girls back. Still, she would not stop crying.

"Here, let me see her." Irene said, gently taking molly. She bounced her softly and held her close, swaying from side to side.

"Mummy's here, darling, there's nothing to be upset about. Why don't we go put you down for a nap?" She said, leaving the master and heading to the spare room, which was being used as a nursery. Irene set molly down in her crib and turned on her mobile. Molly looked up at the device, calming down slowly. 

Irene smiled and placed a soother in Molly's mouth, which the girl suckled instinctively. "That's my girl. Night night poppet, see you in a little while." She said. Molly closed her eyes and drifted off, and Irene left the room.

%€{[|?>^£?]

Sherlock laid on the living room floor, looking up at the ceiling boredly. Mycroft had left, considering sherlock's behavior as an embarrassment to the family name, leaving just John and lestrade to care for Sherlock.

"How are you doing, Sherlock?" John asked. The detective looked at him, sucking his dummy in confusion. John chuckled. He walked over to Sherlock and picked him up, cradling him to his chest.

"As strange as it is that he's basically an infant right now, it's nice that he's quiet for once." Lestrade joked.

"It's very different from how he usually is. Except this version of Sherlock is incapable of caring for himself at all. At least big Sherlock can wash himself and such." John said.

"So how long do you think he'll be stuck like this?" Lestrade asked, a serious look on his face.

John shrugged. "I don't know. I think Moriarty had him brainwashed or something." John said. Sherlock looked up at that. That was his daddy, they were talking about him!

"Daddy?" He asked, looking at John. John looked surprised.

"Who do you mean, Sherlock?" He asked.

"Want daddy." Sherlock mumbled, sad that his daddy hadn't come. He started to cry, and John held him close.

"Sherlock, he's not your daddy. Moriarty has messed with your mind." John said softly. This only made Sherlock cry more. He really missed his daddy, but he wasn't here. "I know you're upset, but soon this will all be behind you, and you'll go back to the detective we all know and love." John cooed, rubbing sherlocks back.

Soon enough, Sherlock was asleep, having tuckered himself out. John smiled and went to tuck Sherlock into bed. He walked back into the living room and grabbed his coat.

"Greg, I have to run out for a while, can you stay here and watch him?" John said. Lestrade but his lip nervously before nodding.

"Yeah, I've got this." He agreed.

"Thank you. I'll be back later." John said, leaving the flat. Greg sighed and went to find a book to read while Sherlock napped.