Little Consulting Detective

18

Moriarty was thrilled with the idea of this challenge. Sherlock wasn't likely to come out of his headspace before the week was up, and who knows, maybe the others would get sick of the responsibilities that came with caring for the kid?

Moriarty pulled out his phone and watched the footage of  flat 221b from the cameras that Irene installed. It was quite convenient, because he could see how Sherlock was doing. The criminal smiled to himself and turned off his phone before pocketing it. He still had too much to do before dark.

-&:,^{<,>?^]

Lestrade sat with Sherlock in his lap on the floor, and John sat in front of them. Mycroft sat on the couch, observing them.

"Alright Sherlock, let's get your memory back, shall we?" John asked with a smile. He held up some flash cards meant for children, but they could probably be used to help Sherlock.

"What's that there, Sherlock?" Lestrade asked, pointing to the first index card. It had a picture of a dog on it, along with a bold DOG.

Sherlock looked blankly at it, unsure of what the others were trying to do.

John frowned. "Maybe we should start with something easier." He said. Lestrade nodded.

"Sherlock, look at me." He cooed, turning Sherlock to face him. Sherlock looked at the detective's face and smiled.

"Who is that, Sherlock?" John asked. He could see Sherlock shrug.

John's phone pinged, indicating a new text. He opened the message and looked down. His eyes widened.

'Show him this.' Was showing on john's screen. Below the words was a picture of Moriarty.

"Greg-" john said, holding his phone up for lestrade to see.

PING. Another text.

'Show Sherlock the picture.'

The two froze, but eventually, lestrade turned Sherlock back around so he could face John. John held the phone out to Sherlock, enlarging the picture so he could see.

"Daddy!" Sherlock exclaimed, clapping. John and lestrade looked at each other, concerned. From his seat, mycroft cringed. He had snapped on Sherlock once and felt bad for doing so, but this was ridiculous.

John exited out of the messages, and sherlock's smile dropped.

"Daddy?" He asked quietly, unsure of what happened to the familiar face.

"For gods sake, Sherlock, Moriarty is not your father, and you are not an infant! You're a grown man, an intelligent one, but somehow... somehow you don't know how to pull yourself out of this idiotic stupor." Mycroft yelled.

As expected, this upset Sherlock. He started crying, and lestrade carried him into the other room to calm him down. 

John got up and stared down mycroft angrily. "What is your problem? He's been through a lot, he can't help what he does in this state." John said, trying to no yell, though it was very difficult.

"This isn't acceptable behavior for a Holmes. Our parents wouldn't condone it, and I certainly agree with them." Mycroft huffed.

"We're doing our best to try and help your little brother get better, but he's very deep into this regression. It's not easy." John reminded him. Mycroft sighed.

"We have a week, john. Honestly, I might rather save myself the headache and just tell Moriarty the deal's off." Mycroft said irritated. John couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"So that means you just want to give your brother up for good? How could you be so heartless?" John asked, astonished. Mycroft scoffed.

"That is not my brother. He's an overgrown baby who will not come to his senses. My brother is as good as gone." Mycroft asserted. He took one more look at John, and then down the hall. He could see Lestrade standing in the dark hall, listening. "Goodbye, dr Watson, detective inspector." He said. He picked up his coat and umbrella and left the flat silently, not bothering to shut the door behind him.