Soulmate Au but it's Johnlock! (UNDER HEAVY EDITING- 10/19/2020)

"Poor thing!"

    "And so, I'm usually the one to take care of him." Sherlock heard from the foyer. His older brother, Mycroft, was opening the front door to the house, taken aback by seeing Sherlock sitting on the very bottom step of the staircase, eating a bowl of cereal with chocolate milk. Mycroft jumped back and gasped before realizing who was waiting for him. "Shezza, do you have any idea of the time?" The man asked as another popped up to look at Sherlock from behind Mycroft.

    "Who the hell is that?" Sherlock asked, in between bites of his late-night breakfast food. The man behind Mycroft seemed a bit surprised by the young boy's language choice.
    "Sherlock, get to bed, now." The older of them gritted through his teeth in a warning. Sherlock looked up at his brother with furrowed eyebrows.

    "Y-you want me to go up... right now?" The young pre-teen asked cunningly.
    "Now. Yes," said Mycroft, strictly. Sherlock then shrugged and stood up to his feet. He looked his brother in the eye as he let the bowl of cereal simply drop from his hands, spilling the contents over the hardwood, before turning sharply to race up the steps loudly. Mycroft wasn't too far behind the boy.

    The other man closed the door and looked at the mess the boy made. The man looked up the staircase and decided to go up there with Mycroft, as to give him some support. Mycroft was at the moment, trying to push the door open, fighting with the boy who did the same on his side. The new man approached the door, Mycroft still struggling and shouting at his brother through the door.

    Sherlock thought he'd won as the door was suddenly let go by his older brother, slamming shut under his weight. Sherlock took a step back to breathe. He didn't get peace, however, as the door immediately burst open again, the man at the door only  took a step into the room before grabbing and pulling at Sherlock's shirt, dragging the boy from his room quietly.

    Mycroft watched as this man brought his brother down the stairs, into the kitchen telling him to grab paper towels and clean up the mess on the floor. Sherlock did not like this man. "Who the hell are you again?" he asked with a scoff.
    "I'm Greg Lestrade," the man gave with a sigh, "and I'm your brother's soulmate."

    Immediately after Sherlock was finished cleaning up his mess, he ran to his room again. This time he wasn't followed. This was not good! Sherlock was able to basically do whatever he wanted, and now this guy waltzes in and ruins everything for his freedom!? It wasn't fair!

    Sherlock had been miserable for the rest of that week, slamming doors, throwing things, and stomping around the house. He was a child, after all. But, Grant didn't see it as an excuse for these behaviors. He was there almost every day when Sherlock would return from school. It wasn't like Sherlock gave him any attention, though. Most times, he could pretend that Grant wasn't even there.

    This was impossible, however, when Sherlock came home with a bloodied nose and a black eye. It hadn't been the first time, and Sherlock was damn sure it wouldn't be the last. One glance, and Grant was on his case about what had happened. Sherlock absolutely hated it. "It's nothing; I'm going to my room." Sherlock gave nonchalantly, but the man stood from his seat and walked in front of the boy. He bent down to eye-level and looked closely at the boy's annoyed, bruised face. "Take a bloody picture why don't you!" Sherlock snapped quickly. Grant paused, thinking about it.
    Taking his mobile out, he told Sherlock to hold still as he actually took pictures of the boy's face. "Does this happen regularly?" Grant asked, putting his phone back into his pocket after deciding that the pictures were fine. Sherlock glared at the man, who lifted an eyebrow expectantly. 

    "I don't have to tell you shit." Said Sherlock with a sharp tongue. Grant gave a grin as he bent over again.
    "If you do, I guarantee it'll be worth your while." He gave, intriguing Sherlock's curiosity as to what he thought Sherlock would want. The boy crossed his shoulders and raised a questioning brow. "If you can locate and identify he boys who did this, you can help me stir up trouble," he offered, holding out his hand for the boy to shake.
    Sherlock glanced down at Grant's hand and back up to the man's face, which bore a shit-eating grin, now. "What kind of trouble would we be stirring?"