“No, the name isn’t the murderer’s, it’s…” Wayne swallowed, trying to keep himself from throwing up. “William is my brother’s name.”
John looked surprised. “You have a brother?” he asked. Wayne nodded. “But why didn’t we see him when we came to your house or---”
“He’s gone.” John looked even more surprised. “Gone? What do you mean? How?”
“We are twins. He was sent to the orphanage,” Wayne answered quietly, his expression now serious. “We look exactly the same, though our eyes are different. Mine are pale green, just like my mother’s, and his are pale blue. A beautiful pale blue, I’d say. But neither of our parents have blue eyes. They got into a big argument about whether my mother was having an affair. In the end, they sent him away.”
John raised his brows, trying to sound casual. “Well, do you have any other siblings?”
“A brother, aborted, and a sister, a stillborn sister. Both were older than me.” Wayne answered as-a-matter-of-factly, after a while of thinking.
“Why would they abort your brother?”
“Because they want a girl. That’s easy,” Wayne said almost immediately.
“Then why did they-?” John started, but was cut off by Wayne.
“Because we were triplets. Me, William and Wendy. The three of us.” He smirked a little. “We’re born with a corpse, William and me.
“And our parents couldn’t abort us, they were expecting a daughter in the three of us. When she’s born dead, they’ve got nothing to do but raise the other two. One got ended up at the orphanage anyways.” He frowned a little. “But I still don’t understand why they kept me. They could have sent me along with William. I don’t do them any good.”
He felt something approach him. A small hand, it turned out. Rosie was absolutely interested in this boy with white hair, she’d never seen anyone like that before. Then Wayne remembered something.
“Where did she get the name William?” he asked, observing Rosie now. John simply shrugged.
The three sat in silence for a while. Then Wayne asked, “Sherlock?” This boy obviously likes to speak as least as he can, John thought, chuckling to himself a bit. “No idea. Perhaps he’s gone to find Mycroft. He’s probably the only person other than Sherlock himself that knows what his birth name is, after all. And he’s the most likely to tell the world.” John smirked at the last bit.
“Do you like him? Sherlock?” Wayne asked.
“Well, he’s my best friend, after all.”
“No. Do you like him?”
“Like how?”
Wayne groaned. “Love, John. Do you love him.”
“We’ve been living together for years, and he was my best man, and now he helps me raise my daughter. We surely are the best mates.The best friends of all.”
Wayne sighed a bit got up. With a glance at Rosie, he turned for the door as he heard a noise. “Oh dear, is this yours? What is it? You’ve been bringing it with you when you and your things arrived.” There came the voice of Mrs Hudson. She was taking something up, a black bag in the shape of an instrument, with its length about half her body.
“Oh yes, it’s my guitar.” the boy said cheerfully. For the first time, Wayne gave a genuine smile. A smile of pure happiness. He took it from Mrs Hudson and placed it dearly on the breakfast table.
“So, you play the guitar?” John asked, joggling Rosie on his lap, making the little girl giggle with glee. Wayne was about to answer when Mrs Hudson inquired, “Oh dear, I just saw Sherlock bursting out the door, what happened?” As though suddenly remembering Sherlock’s existence and decided it’s his own mission to find the detective's whereabouts, Wayne grabbed his beige hooded raincoat that he’d been wearing, no matter the weather, and strode down the stairs and out of the door.
Mrs Hudson sighed, “Not even a full day here, and he’s inherited half of Sherlock’s traits.” Then she went back down to sweep her floor. John chuckled a bit.
After Mrs Hudson closed the door, however, John’s brows were knitted together in worry.
“Daddy?” Rosie asked. John snapped his neck to his daughter. “What, Rosie? What’s wrong?” John asked, trying to keep his worries hidden from his daughter, wrenching a smile onto his face. “Where Sherlock and…?” the toddler trailed off, puzzled, because she had no idea what is the name of the albino boy.
“Oh, Sherlock and Wayne? I wonder…” John sighed and looked towards the door, wondering where the boys he was supposed to be looking after were. He chuckled a bit to himself. Taking care of Wayne wasn’t a problem. He’d had enough practice with Sherlock already, hadn’t he? But now he had his own daughter, which means he needed to look after three children. He wondered whether Mr and Mrs Holmes felt the same way when they raised Mycroft, Sherlock and Eurus. Well, at least they had each other, and what had John got? Two runaway children, a toddler, and himself, along with a house of mess.
He sighed. Where exactly are these two blokes?
Words: 864 (yessss i'm closer to the goal)
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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...
