James Moriarty - Tempestuous Tides

Chapter 7 - Sherlock's POV

"No, no listen to me Mycroft," Sherlock was exasperated as he paced around his living room, on the phone to his brother. "You do not understand me, you need to listen. Hang on, someone else is calling me."

He put his brother on hold, leaving him sighing on the other end. Sherlock answered the other call, getting annoyed with the number of calls he was receiving from the case he had been presented by his brother. Aella's little brother had gone missing just yesterday, and Mycroft had no idea why he was gone or where he went. However, he was not old enough or wise enough to have gone missing on his own. If he was, then it would still be a missing case of a child in Mycroft's care.

"Hello," Sherlock answered the phone, plunging himself onto the sofa. "For the second time, no! It is the one who has the strange silk underwear in all of his drawers."
"Silk underwear?" Lestrade was confused as to how Sherlock knew it was the one with silk underwear. 

"Yes, silk underwear, you needed my help. You might as well grab yourself a pair if that cream from the dermatologist isn't helping the rash encompassing your hind,"

"Sherlock!"

"Sorry, I have another call," switching back to another phone, Sherlock stopped being bored, he stopped feeling bored. "Who is this?"

A child was whimpering on the end of the phone, his voice so erratic and scared, you could hear his little heart thumping in his chest with the pain of being lost alone.  Nothing was more petrifying than being on your own as a child, lost, scared, without the comforting arms of a parent to guide you, to help you, to be with you when you need them to be.

"Where am I?" the kid was not talking to Sherlock, he was not talking to anyone. Where he was was an isolated area, without anyone for him to talk to, he was shaken up and crying in panic. "Where am I?" 

The kid just screeched down the phone, yelling, and screaming even more. He had seen something. "HELP ME!" he screamed in terror, his footsteps getting faster, his breathing getting higher, he was running.

Sherlock closed his eyes, imagining where a child would go if he were lost. Kidnapped. The child was kidnapped. 

"GO LEFT!" Sherlock shouted down the phone, he needed the kid to keep up his adrenaline, and shouting back at him would only make him work harder to getaway. 

"STRAIGHT AHEAD," Sherlock was running with the child in his mind, begging to believe he would help to save this child life. "RIGHT, LEFT, LEFT, RIGHT." 

The small boy just ran along with Sherlock's words, Sherlock was not leaving him now, he knew he was scared of something. But what? 

"When you come to the clearing, hide in one of the bins, you should be small enough to fit," this time, Sherlock knew he needed the kid to calm down. "If you do that I can find you, let me know when you are in." 

He clunked around with the bin for a while, he smelt the rubbish but had to suck it up and get on with it since he had no other option. "We will talk when I find you." 

Switching back to his conversation with his brother Mycroft, he remembered exactly everything the child had sounded like as he ploughed through the forest. That was upon the basis that there were twigs that he cracked and not bones. Well, he must have gone to the right place since he had found the clearing and the bin Sherlock had told him to get into. 

"There is a young boy who has just called me, I think I know where he will be, I have gotten him to hide inside of a bin,"

"My boy?" Mycroft questioned, wondering if it was his own. 

"Maybe it's time you come clean about whose child that is, because he does not know as of yet," 

"I will never tell the boy or his father whose child he is. He is mine, Sherlock. Meet you there."