Our Little Boy

Gunshots

"Hey Sherly!" John said joyfully as he walked in.

"I told you not to call me that" He replied in an irritated tone , pulling his book away from his face. 

"I know, but isnt that what married couples do? Annoy each other?" John kissed him on the forehead and sat beside him on the sofa. "So, what do you want to do for dinner?" Sherlock shrugged. 

"Korean food?"

"Okay. I know a great little place a few blocks from here." The two men put on their coats. They had just left their flat, when Sherlock heard a loud noise. His eyes widened and his shoulders tensed. Gunshots.

"John." he said, glancing over at his partner. He grinned.

"Sherlock, you shouldnt get-" Before John could finish his sentence, Sherlock's hand had a tight grasp on his wrist and he was running to a crime scene with him. They stopped at a large crowd of people. Sherlock pushed his way through until he was finally able to see. John peered over his shoulder.

 They saw a baby boy, no older than a few weeks, crying in a carriage beside his mother. His dead mother.