“Look, we have a murder case now, and come immediately,” said an impatient Lestrade through the phone. “Alright, alright we’re coming Gavin,” replied Sherlock nonchalantly. John nudged him and whispered, “His name is Greg, Sherlock.” Sherlock rolled his eyes, about to retort, when the other end of the phone continued, “The two of you, please. Come quick.”
A cab pulled up to a house.
The house stood on its own, with a beautiful garden of blooming tulips and mowed lawns. The oak wood doors, between two emerald bushes, has the golden “106” neatly placed in the middle. Lestrade came rushing from the front door. “Oh yes, finally you are here. Sherlock, we need a little bit of help--- whatever you know what to do anyways. Inside here.” Sherlock followed Lestrade but John stopped in his tracks. He gazed across the garden, towards a wood plank hung by chains from the big banyan tree. Lit by the glowing red and blue lights of the police cars, John saw the shape of a teenage boy, no older than sixteen, sitting on the swing. He was wrapped around a shock blanket.
“What are you looking at?” came the voice of Donovan. “Oh, um, that boy…” John mumbled a bit. “Oh, that boy? He’s the couple’s son. Another freak, you see.” “Everyone just… ignores him?” “Well, most here are more interested in the dead bodies inside than this guy alive here. Dimmock is spare here now, but, I’d like to see him try and sooth someone.”
John turned and watched the boy. The boy didn’t look sad of his parents’ deaths. Not even looking shocked by the situation he’s in now. He sat motionlessly, staring at somewhere off. John followed his gaze through the window into the living room, where policemen stood around the bloodied sofa, discussing, and John saw some dark curls popping up just above the windowsill. Sherlock apparently is looking for some clues.
Ah, yes, Sherlock. John had spent a bit too much time deducing (sort of) the boy that he’d forgotten his friend who’s in there, investigating.
“Hmm, been here deducing something?” Speaking of him, and here he came. John turned his head to see Sherlock leaning against the doorsill, putting his magnifier into his coat pocket. “Oh, that boy over there,” John said, pointing at the boy. “the now orphan of the couple.” Sherlock took a quick glance at the boy then walked down the doorsteps. “Not interested.” John shrugged and followed. The boy’s got nothing to do with Sherlock, or himself, John Watson, after all.
Then Lestrade came rushing out, calling the two. “Oi! Holmes! Watson!” “What, Lestrade? I thought I’ve found enough clues for the police to continue investigating. Anderson must have lowered the IQ of the whole Scotland Yard, now,” Sherlock scowled.
Lestrade rolled his eyes, but continued, “Well that was one thing. But the thing now is, you see that boy over there? I want you two to look after him for a while, now.” He pointed to the boy on the swing. “We’re not babysitters, as far as you concern,” Sherlock scowled even more. John’s mouth dangled open for a while, about so say something, then he closed it.
“The kid, son of the Ballard couple (“Now I know their name, finally,” muttered John), currently needs a place to live and, as far as we can tell, he’s not going to stay the night in the crime scene where investigation will carry on until midnight. We’ve concluded that you two would be the best place for him to stay over,” finished Lestrade.
“So? I’m not going to adopt homeless kids,” said Sherlock, ignoring everything Lestrade said. “Yet you’ve got a homeless network,” muttered John, rolling his eyes. You've even helped me raise my daughter anyways.
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Adopted to be a Holmes
Fanfic"A couple have been murdered. now, i need you two to come and investigate." Sherlock and John arrived at the crime scene, and on the swing in the garden, sat a boy wrapped in a shock blanket. He, Wayne Ballard, is the son of the murdered couple. "So...
