“So you’re just going to leave him here? Alone?” that voice asked. “Oh, Mary, um, I haven’t seen you for a long time,” John said. “John, you have to remember, I am just from your subconscious. I am imagined,” Mary said, leaning against the streetlight. John never forgot that his wife, one of the people he loved the most in this world, Mary (Rosamund) Watson, died two years ago in an aquarium, shot by Vivian Norbury.
John shuddered at the memory of losing his wife. His mind suddenly focused on one thing, one thing he’d never thought of: What if one day, he would die, and that Rosie would lose him? Leaving her alone, leaving her an orphan… John dreaded on thinking about it. He turned his head, and his eyes stopped on Wayne. Would Rosie be someone like him too?
“John?” He heard a voice and spun to see Sherlock staring at him. He had not noticed that with his mind running so fast, he had sweat on forehead and his breath is unstable. “... Well, Mrs Hudson can always take care of her,” John shrugged, hoping no one noticed this. Little did he know Sherlock had been staring at him all the time and deducing him.
Sherlock had been studying John as soon as he stood staring into air, not speaking nor moving, gazing as though he’s looking at something far away. He must be having hallucinations, Sherlock thought, tilting his head. And… something about bad memories… He is sweating… shallow, yet unstable breaths… staring off into something like that… Sherlock’s face lit with understanding, which glow was immediately replaced with worried, furrowed brows. Mary.
Then how he stared at Wayne. It’s not hard to tell, he was afraid of Rosie losing him after her mother and be left like Wayne.
And now John was looking frantic, mumbling about Mrs Hudson like that… Sherlock glanced over to Lestrade. He didn’t even seem to notice anything. Sherlock pursed his lips, thinking of a solution to get John out of this situation, but on the other hand not making anyone suspicious of his deductions about John’s fears.
“So, Gavin, the only problem left is whether we agree to let this lad live under our roof, right?” Sherlock asked, putting his hands behind his back. “God, I wonder if you’ll ever actually remember what my name is,” Lestrade rolled his eyes really sarcastically. “And yes, it’s whether you house Wayne or not. Thank you for, even only once, listening to what I was saying.”
“And, so, fine. 221B Baker Street, tonight 6pm,” Sherlock said, turning and wrapping his coat tighter around himself. “Let’s go, John, you’ve still got your daughter.”
Then John started to wonder would Wayne and Rosie get along as he and Sherlock flagged a cab. Yes, he’s only staying for while, but he will be a resident of 221B, even only temporarily, he thought. And that’s when it hit him.
“Sherlock! Where is he going to sleep?” exclaimed John as he and Sherlock climbed into a cab. “Well, we’ll sort that out later, won’t we?” Sherlock said, putting his joint fingertips under his chin, clearing deciding this is not something that should be worried about.
word: 536
A/N: sorry for making stories with such slow progress... i'll try to update faster, and with more and better details! (gosh my skills need to improve so much)
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Adopted to be a Holmes
Fanfiction"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...
