Organised Chaos - Sherlock x Reader

LXXXIX • 89

Sherlock sat unmoving for several long minutes, staring into space. He was no longer crying, nor was he displaying any other emotion. He didn't stand until Greg approached, the twins trailing behind.
"I've been in communication with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. They've had Harrison Oliver on their wanted list for years. They-"
He was interrupted when one of the twins wrapped her arms around Sherlock's waist. "Thank you Shawn." She mumbled.
Sherlock stiffened and opened his mouth to correct her, but changed his mind, relaxed and smiled, then laid his hand on the girl's back.
He crouched down to the level of the child, his face transformed. He smiled at her, although there was sadness in his eyes. "Hey sweetheart." He said. He looked like he had no idea what else to say.
"I didn't like him." She said.
"Mr Oliver?" He asked.
She nodded. "He wasn't very nice."
"No, he wasn't. He wasn't nice to anybody. But you'll never have to see him again. I promise."
"What about 'londra? Will she have to see him again?" She looked up at him with large, questioning eyes.
His face grew cloudy and you were afraid he'd lose his ability to talk tactfully. You stepped forward to intervene, but he surprised you, looking back at her, taking her tiny hand in his own. "No, she won't."
The girl smiled. "When is she coming back? Is she sick?"
Sherlock sighed and looked away for a split second. "She's not coming back, Elizabeth. I'm sorry."
You watched him squeeze her hand and you saw the pain in his eyes as hers filled with tears. He pulled her toward him and let her cry on his shoulder. He bit his lip like he was trying hard not to cry himself. He stood, lifting her up with him, holding on to her.
You couldn't help but be shocked by his behaviour. You'd never seen him interact with a child and you found yourself smiling despite the situation. Greg stood beside you, nearly catatonic, his conversation with the FBI all but forgotten.
Sherlock turned toward the two of you, ignorant to your shock. "I can't bear to send them back to foster care." He said, quietly.
You shook out of your stupor. "Are you suggesting-" you started.
"No." He interrupted. "Greg, do you know anybody?"
He shook his head. "No, I can't think of-" he too was cut off when John stepped up, from where he'd been listening quietly. "My parents." He pronounced.
Sherlock looked toward him. "Your parents?" He asked.
"Yes." John nodded. "They've always loved children. They wanted me to get married and have kids just so they could have grandchildren." He smiled a little. "I can almost guarantee they'd be more than happy to adopt the girls."
Sherlock nodded, shifting Elizabeth to a more comfortable position.
"As long as they don't have to go back to the Home. Or any other one for that matter." He said.
John was already on his phone, talking quietly. "Yeah, they're six." He was saying. He smiled broadly a moment later. "Thank you mum." He hung up and nodded. "I suppose we just need to make sure they're good with it." He said, nodding toward the girls.

******

Your parents lived in a cozy cottage in Wimbledon, a little over an hour from where you were at the river. You exchanged the cruisers for cabs, John and the girls in one, you and Sherlock in a second.
You sat in silence for the first ten minutes. Eventually, you spoke. "I didn't know you liked children so much." You ventured.
"They're like dogs in a way." He shrugged. "They're small and they follow you around looking for attention."
You laughed involuntarily. "I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing." You responded.
He looked over at you. "I like dogs, don't I?"
You smiled and there was another long period of silence. Finally, your curiosity got the better of you. "I didn't know you were so good with them. I'm not sure I could've talked to her like you did." You looked at Sherlock in time to see his jaw clench and his whole body stiffen. He didn't say anything for a long moment.
"Sorry." You said, quietly. "I didn't know."
He shook his head. "Of course you didn't, it's fine." He shook a little inhaling. "I had a sister."
Your full attention was riveted toward him now. You had been rather surprised to find out that he'd had a brother- he just seemed like he'd have been an only child- but a sister too? Likely a younger sister based on this context.
He continued, obviously trying hard to keep himself composed. "We were six years apart, so she was really young when I was nearing my teens. She was my best friend, despite the age difference. I loved her." He took another shaky breath, but kept talking.
"She was five when-" he shuddered, "when the accident happened. Mum was picking me up from school because I always got beaten up on the bus. Now I wish I'd just taken it. Mum and I were in the front and she was in the back, behind me. We were almost home when a car ran the light and slammed into the left side of our vehicle, just missing my door and colliding head on with hers. They said she was killed instantly and I was in the hospital for weeks. To this day, I wish it had been me. She was only five, she had so much ahead of her." A tear slipped down his cheek. You had no idea what to say, so you just gripped his hand. It seemed that every day more and more of his past was revealed to you.
He shook his head and wiped his eyes. "John doesn't even know about that, I've not told anybody but you, so just keep it to yourself, okay?"
"Of course." You nodded.
The silence that followed was torturous. Sherlock looked like he was trying to push memories from his head and you were doing the same.
After another ten minutes, you couldn't stand it anymore. You looked toward Sherlock. He was staring out the window, his fisted hand resting on his leg, his jaw clenched, facial muscles tight.
Changing the subject, you asked a question, knowing that he'd welcome the chance to explain his methods.
"How did you know? Which girl it was, I mean."
He looked toward you. "When Alondra-" he stopped, looked away for another moment, then turned back. "When she initially introduced us this morning, she indicated each girl in turn. After that, it was simple observation. Noticing the subtle differences, mostly in personality."
You shook your head and smiled. "I don't get it. I'd never be able to do that."
"It's like any other skill. It takes practise." He spoke almost flatly and you knew he was still fighting to keep from breaking down.
"Sherlock.." You sighed. "I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to-"
"Don't worry about it." He said, cutting you off. "It's over now. I suppose it's better to tell someone than to keep it bottled up." He looked toward you, his jaw still clenched but his eyes filled with emotion. He reached out his hand and you took it readily.
"I should really be thanking you, (F/N). You understand me better than anyone I know."
"I'm not sure if that's en-" you started, before he interrupted.
"It is, (N/N). It really is true." He managed a little smile. "You're my best friend. John is too, but he's a different kind of friend."
You smiled, and he continued.
"I wouldn't be here if not for you and John. Before it was just my work, and the periods in between hurled me into the depths of depression. I never thought I'd get out of it. Then a new case would come along, and I'd be occupied for a while, actually happy, but after that the depression would get even worse- something I didn't think was possible. I'm telling you,
(F/N), if it wasn't for the two of you, I'd have given up a long time ago."