Son of Holmes

Phone Calls

Lestrade gripped the cupboard doorway, firmly steadying himself. Sherlock ignored him and opted to see just how badly the too small boy was hurt.

He pulled off the boy's (Harry's, he reminded himself) shirt, "Broken left wrist with extensive bruising from bring dragged/thrown with it. Fractured right ulna, most likely from landing on something hard on it. Two dislocated ribs and one fractured. Mild concussion judging by the large bumb on the back of his head, probably hit it against the wall. Broken nose, looks like it was punched, evidence from the black eye. Extensive bruising all along torso, mostly on the back."

With most every word Lestrade became more and more pale, Sherlock actually became slightly concerned for him, not that he would ever admit it, though. His mouth was clamped shut and didn't seem like he was going to be saying anything any time soon.

"Lestrade, I hope you trust me to take care of this for you? You have no need to send anyone in to help him," Sherlock studied the man as his words pulled him out of his stupor.

"What? No. No, no, no, you can't just take him. We need to call an ambulance, before this gets any worse." Lestrade was shaking his head now and began to take out his flip phone when Sherlock stopped him.

"We can't call an ambulance, they'd take too long to get here (twelve minutes I believe), and we don't have enough time if you don't want him to have any lasting effects of this."

"Well, do you have any better ideas then?!" Lestrade all but shouted.

"Yes, we can call Mycroft." Sherlock seemed to think that answered the man just fine, and presumed to take out his phone, dialing a number it breakneck speeds. "Hello, brother dear. I seem to have a problem."

Mycroft had been having a very boring day. The American elections were a success (as he knew they would be), all the little people who thought they made a difference continued to think so, his brother hadn't gotten himself in the eyes of anyone important (yet), and all the routine paperwork had been finished the day before. As he was about to call his PA in (he really should get a new one soon, this one was incompetent) to send in any extra work that he may need to read/sign, when his mobile began to ring.

Checking the ID he was surprised to see it was Sherlock calling. His bugs told him that he had gone to a case earlier, one in Surrey, and had yet to return. He vaguely registered that a child of political importance had been living in Surrey for the past couple of years, but thought nothing of it.

"Hello, brother dear. I seem to have a problem."

Mycroft immediately felt that his day was about to become much more interesting. "Hello. What sort of trouble have you gotten yourself into now?"

"It's not me who's in trouble, actually. I trust you know where I am?"

"Of course, you are currently in Surrey."

"You seem to correct. I'm in Surrey right now, the Dursley's house to be specific."

Very thrown off balance, Mycroft realized that his worse fear had been created (well one of them, anyway), Sherlock had met Harry Potter.

"Please tell me that you're not currently with Mr Potter."

"Depends on how you look at it. I'm with him, but he's not with us at the moment. By the way, could you send a car to pick little Harry up and bring him to the nearest hospital? Thanks."

And on that happy note, Sherlock hung up his phone. Mentally cursing his little brother, Mycroft dialed in another number, "Immediately send a car to Number Four, Privet Dr, Surrey. There should be two people for you to pick up. One, a young man with black hair, another a small child. Bring them to the nearest hospital, and do it quickly if you wish to keep your job."

Sighing, Mycroft leaned back in his outrageously comfortable office chair. This was going to be a long day.

Sherlock stood up with a snap, surprising Lestrade. The bumbling officer was rather worried by the fact that the young sociopath had a brother, who seemed to have quite a lot of power by the sound of things, and how horribly things could end up. He got up less quickly than the taller man, "So what now?"

"Now, we take young Harry, and wait for the car. It sould be here in around five minutes, if he stays punctual." Sherlock leaned down and gently picked up the small boy, surprising Lestrade. Sherlock moved out and stood next to the front door, so as not to attract unwanted attention by stepping outside, Lestrade stopping next to him, "My brother can get a team of Aurors to Obliviate all the officers who know of this event, so you don't need to worry about making a cover story for today's case, nor for my appearance with Harry. However, if you tell anyone about today, you won't have a job to get back to. Does it sound like a deal?"

Taken aback by his threatening tone, Lestrade quickly agreed, but added, "What are you planning on doing with him?"

The sleuth smirked, "That is for me to know, and you to find out.* Although if you keep to your side of the deal, you could come to my flat in a couple of days and I might just tell you."

Lifting an eyebrow at Sherlock's mysterious facade, Lestrade replied, "You had better have a good story."

Sherlock looked out of the window and saw a nondescript black car turning onto the street and he opened the door and wakked across the pavement towards it, everyone outside giving him a range of curious, frustrated and bewildered looks- he obviously ignored them all. Next to the car, the driver opened the door for him and Sherlock softly set Harry down and preped himself to follow.

Leaning his head back slightly, he connected his gaze with Lestrade's and said one thing before he left. One thing that would change both their lives from that moment on. Sherlock smirked and called, "We'll see you later!"

Almost jumping in, the car took of the moment the door was closed, leaving a helpless officer with a yard full of colleagues to satisfy.

The drive to the hospital was short and uneventful, there wasn't even a red light the entire way. Getting out with Harry in his arms, Sherlock walked briskly into the hospital. Going straight to the reception desk, he said, "This boy is severely malnourished and injured. He requires immediate assistance."