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Sherlock and John were lounging on their armchairs across from each other in the sitting room of their flat.
They were both in their most comfortable t-shirts and pyjama bottoms, and the evening air came in cool and crisp from the outside.
Jumpers had come out of the deepest parts of their wardrobes to keep up with the changing autumn weather.
The flat was going dark soon after sunset.
Sherlock sat with his legs spread out, hands steepled beneath his chin, and eyes closed.
They had no cases to solve at the moment, and John had sent a podcast recording to Goalhanger only recently. So, John was also sitting in his armchair with Archie resting and sleeping heavily on his chest.
He didn't mind the occasional shortness of breath that he felt because of Archie's weight. Archie was an adorable dog - his adorable dog - and John was more than happy to spend time petting him and playing with him in general, as he was doing at the moment.
He would not put up with Sherlock's fat shaming, full stop!
Mariana had taken a flight to Spain the previous night to be with her family during Halloween, which was just a week away.
The sound of the doorbell startled the two of them. Sherlock was no longer asleep.
"Who has come here now?" Sherlock grumbled, squinting at the door and only partially awake. "Without any appointment, no less!"
John carefully placed Archie on the floor and got up to answer the door. Their dog was still asleep.
He was also kind of annoyed to have to entertain someone unannounced at this hour. First, the Wisteria Lodge case, and now this? John huffed as he opened the door.
The front door revealed a man in his forties with salt-and-pepper hair and a bald patch on his crown. He was the same height as John, so John immediately straightened his back, subconsciously sizing up the guy.
Ageing and stress had decorated his eyes with dark circles underneath, and he had frown lines on his face.
"Do you have an appointment?" John asked, clearing his throat.
"I, well… I'm afraid I don't. But please, you have to let me in and hear me out. It's important!" he exclaimed.
Sherlock came up behind John.
John looked around at Sherlock for a second to consider, but he stepped aside to let the guy in.
"Make it quick, please," said Sherlock as their potential client made himself comfortable on the client's chair in the sitting room.
Sherlock and John went to the sitting room and sat down on the sofa, facing the guy.
"I don't know what to say… How do I even start?" The guy took out his handkerchief and dabbed it at his face.
John leaned forward in his seat. "You could -"
"- Start from the beginning, of course!" Sherlock interrupted.
John sighed and shook his head.
The man let out a bitter laugh. "Well, my name is David Warner. I'm here because- because I think my wife is a vampire."
Yeah, you're out, John thought, biting his lip in amusement. He turned to look at Sherlock, who gave the client a thoughtful look. John blinked at that in surprise.
"Go on," Sherlock prompted David.
"No-no-no, wait, Sherlock."
Sherlock looked at John with his brow raised.
"Er, they don't exist?"
"Who?"
"Vampires, Sherlock! They do not exist. In real life. Nada."
"Will you please stop with your Spanish-speaking attempts, Watson? Mariana is not the only one who feels annoyed." Sherlock adjusted a bit on his side of the sofa.
John shot him a glare.
"As for vampires, well, most people believe them not to exist, but you never know."
John scoffed in frustration. "What the hell are you on about? Why are we wasting our time on this client – no offence to you, Mr Warner – when we could be solving an actual case?"
"Hey, this is an actual case, I'll have you know, Dr Watson!" David exclaimed, knitting his brow in offence. "I'm a software engineer, and you'd better take me seriously."
John narrowed his eyes at David Warner, but he also felt warmed by the fact that this strange man already knew him by his name. "You listen to the podcast, I see?"
Warner smiled at that and nodded. "Of course, I do. Every week."
John, too, suddenly agreed to accept the case in his mind. "Do you like my narration? My enunciations? My -"
"- What makes you think your wife is a vampire, Mr Warner?" asked Sherlock, cutting in, and just like that, the air in the room smelled like tension again. "And how can we, of all people, help you with it anyway? Why did you come all the way to London for this?"
John sat back and pouted a bit, but he decided to let the man carry on with his story.
"We got married two years ago. She's had my baby recently and, well, we talked about it, and she had decided to be a homemaker after our marriage." Warner's tone was strangely defensive.
"Not your first wife, is she?" Sherlock prompted him.
"How do you know?" Warner straightened up in his chair.
"Yeah, be prepared for an awful lot of that," said John, resting his fingers on his chin as his other arm propped up his elbow.
"The handkerchief you carry in your breast pocket – it can only be a young woman's. It's floral. You, on the other hand, are already in your forties. Wouldn't be a leap of logic to assume this child you had recently with her isn't your first either."
David looked at him in disbelief, and his jaw dropped. "Er, yeah. Right on point about everything. I do, in fact, have another ten-year-old son from my ex-wife who passed away ages ago.
"See, that's the thing here. It was a bit challenging for all of us at first, but now the four of us do live as a family together.
Try our best, at the very least. My two sons seem to be getting on with each other quite well for the first time –"
"-- What does it have to do with your wife potentially being a vampire?" Sherlock put a leg over the other and sat back on the sofa.
"I am getting to the point, damnit!"
Sherlock and John exchanged a look. John gestured at David to continue with his story.
"Normally, I'm at work when my wife is feeding our little one. I wish I could stay and contribute more at home, because those are my sons after all. But the boss didn't let us stay home the moment all the strict rules related to the COVID lockdown began to ease. My company is one of those... working from home is very difficult to opt for here.
"Anyway, I miss most of the time my child is awake because of all that, especially since we live in the countryside, which makes conveyance difficult.
One day, though, I tried to go back home because I realised I had forgotten my lunch a few minutes after having left my place for work.
"I couldn't even get to the front door of my house when a horrifying sight caught my eye," said David, clearing his throat and swallowing. He tried to go further, but his eyes welled up, and his lips trembled. He took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure.
"It's okay, David," said John, leaning forward in his seat. "Relax."
Sherlock glanced at John before looking back at their client. "Take your time, Mr Warner," he said awkwardly.
That made David Warner break down, and now he was full-on sobbing. "Oh, I wish I were blind." He covered his face with both of his hands in an attempt to hide his tears.
John got up from where he was sitting to go and stand behind David Warner. John began to pat his back, albeit cringing a bit from awkwardness.
Sherlock went to the kitchen to get their client a glass of water.
"What did you see, Mr Warner?" John prompted him gently as Sherlock reappeared and gave David a glass.
David Warner accepted the glass and took a sip. "Blood!" he exclaimed. "Blood smeared over her mouth. You know where else I saw blood in the nursery?"
Sherlock and John exchanged a look.
"On my son's neck!"
John's jaw dropped a bit, and so did Sherlock's.
"I didn't need lunch anymore that whole day at the very least," he said dryly, trying to pull himself together.
Twitching his left hand, John cleared his throat, unsure of what to say. "What did she say after?"
Warner eventually stopped crying and looked up at John with his brow furrowed. "What is there to say?"
Sherlock leaned towards their client and let out a loud sigh. "He's asking you about your confrontation with your wife, if it ever happened."
"Well, it didn't!" David Warner threw up his hands in the air.
"Hm, I thought as much," said Sherlock and sat back in his seat.
"What? Why not?" John demanded.
"Because I don't know what happened for sure! Normally, my wife isn't even capable, but I'm damn sure my eyes didn't lie to me that day."
"She allegedly attempted murder on her own son – your son – and you didn't even try to have a word with her?" John asked in a raised voice.
"Well, I didn't know what to do, which is why I'm here!" David yelled, making Sherlock clap his hands against his ears.
Sherlock hissed and got up to go to his room, most likely to get his ear defenders.
John pursed his lips, guilt filling up in his heart. Without another word, he got up to follow Sherlock up to his room down the hall.
John entered Sherlock's room, where he watched him carefully place his ear defenders on his head.
John placed his hand on Sherlock's shoulder from behind. "Sorry if that was –"
Sherlock turned around and placed a finger on John's mouth. "Shh. You weren't. He was. Loud, I mean," he said in a low and soothing voice.
John shivered and blinked furiously at Sherlock as he walked past him to go back to the sitting room.
The three of them had been friends for around three years now – Sherlock, John, and Mariana.
After about six months of meeting Sherlock, John, well, he developed feelings for his flatmate. He had brushed off those feelings in the beginning, thinking they weren't so serious and all that. However, as time passed, John had to come to terms with his feelings.
How could he not, with Sherlock existing in his vicinity looking like that and being how he was?
John would sometimes stay up at night, thinking about Sherlock's brilliance, his deductive process, his sense of humour, and his determination to provide justice through his work.
John would also think about his brown eyes and skin, his dense, black curls, his deep and soothing voice, and the permanent look of calm on his face, like a tree in a beautiful, dense and green forest.
As more time passed, though, John began to realise he would go nowhere if he went on feeling like this for Sherlock. Sherlock had given him little to no reason to believe that John's feelings were mutual.
John's own feelings for Sherlock began to fade.
Eventually, he met Mary. Mary Morstan.
Leaning against the open door of Sherlock's bedroom, John let out a bitter laugh.
Whatever happened between him and Mary was so fast compared to the way John's love for Sherlock had gradually brewed earlier. No less serious, though. Just fast.
Mary was amazing. John hadn't known her for long, but his feelings for her – which were mutual this time – were very real.
And then the universe cruelly took her away from him.
He'd always had the worst luck in the world when it came to this, hadn't he?
John still remembered the way he had grieved, cried, and even felt numb sometimes when she died.
John also remembered how Sherlock and Mariana comforted him and accommodated his needs as much as they could, even when they were both busy solving The Three Gables case.
His heart eventually stopped feeling so numb all the time and instead became warmer. At least the universe had blessed him with the best friends in the world – two of them – that he could ever ask for. He swore to himself that he would never stop counting his blessings on that front.
Now, when he was in a better place, more adjusted to his loss, his feelings for Sherlock were resurfacing.
John could never resist Sherlock in the initial year of sharing a flat with him, so how could he now?
"Are you coming out anytime soon?" Sherlock called from the sitting room, startling John.
John straightened up. "Y-yeah, mate. I'll be right there." He sighed and walked out of Sherlock's room with his head slightly dropped.
The moment John set foot in the drawing room, though, David's phone rang from inside his pocket.
David whipped out his phone, clapped his hand on his forehead and got up. He turned to face the door of their flat, presumably to leave Baker Street. "I'm getting a work call. Looks urgent," he said, dashing out the door. "Sorry, but I really gotta go!" he shouted from outside, already halfway out of the apartment building.
John tried to go after him up to the doorway of the flat. "We never got any of your details - !"
"Shh." Sherlock walked up behind John. "I have everything on my phone that we need to know. Relax."
John leaned back towards Sherlock as he felt his strong and calming hands on his shoulders. "When do we leave for Sussex then?"
"Tomorrow," said Sherlock, rubbing and digging into John's shoulders with his thumbs.
"You-you really are serious about taking up this vampire case."
Sherlock leaned in and brought his face close to John's ear. "Someone has to keep things interesting around here."
John felt a violent shiver run down his spine. Sherlock withdrew his hands, immediately making John miss that rare but warm touch.
Sleep was going to be easy that night. Or tough. Who knew.
***
Sherlock and John packed some lousy sandwiches for their trip to David's house in Sussex, because they were going to have to spend a lot of time there.
John and Sherlock argued over whether they should also keep a pair of John's old binoculars with them or not, so they could get a better look at the rooms in that house from outside if necessary.
"It's giving the vibe of stalking, as the younger people put it," Sherlock said.
John shook his head. "Uh, no. They just say, 'It's giving stalking,' if they want to use that phrase. Not the whole sentence, although that's where it comes from, but that's besides the point, Sherlock! It's not stalking if it's going to help our case!"
After some back and forth, John ended up bringing the binoculars with him on the trip.
A couple of hours and half the sandwiches in the box later, John slowed down the rented car in front of the address that David had sent them. He stopped the car, and they both hopped out.
"It's been nearly three hours since we started the ride!" Sherlock exclaimed, glancing at his wrist watch as he adjusted his black glasses. "What took you so long, Watson?"
John scoffed. "As if you weren't also there in the car, right next to me! What about all that stopping so many times to eat?"
"Mm… you did most of that."
"We got lost -"
"- You got lost," Sherlock cut him off. "I asked you not to take that turn!"
They were right in front of the door of the house now. Before one of them could knock, the door opened and revealed David Warner. "I heard you two bickering, so…" he trailed off and chuckled. He stepped aside to let Sherlock and John in.
The two of them looked around the house, taking it in. The hallway itself was beautifully decorated, with its walls covered in ancient art patterns, as far as John could tell.
John threw a sideways glance at Sherlock, who was obviously taking in a lot more details than he was.
The indoors were dimly lit, so Sherlock took off his glasses indoors and adjusted his ear defenders.
Leading them to the sitting room, David stopped in his tracks and turned around to look at the two of them with his brow furrowed. "Wouldn't it have been better if you two had shown up in the evening, when it would be almost dark instead? Can I ask you exactly what you are up to, driving all the way to my place in the middle of the afternoon?" He had deliberately lowered his voice. "How is it helpful to my case?"
"Well, if you do not want us here, then…" Sherlock made his way to the front door.
"Hey, I never said that!"
Sherlock turned around to face David again with his brow raised.
"Ugh, alright! Come in, already!"
John looked at Sherlock with amusement, who smirked at him in return. John grinned like an idiot as they entered the sitting room.
They both got seated in chairs. David went inside, probably to look for his wife and kids.
"Denise, could you whip up something for us? We have guests," David said, and then he and his wife continued to chat about some other things – John couldn't make out what.
A large painting with Jesus carrying a lamb hung on one of the walls in the sitting room. The only source of light coming in was from outside, which was also feeble because of the curtains they had drawn.
John pursed his lips and looked at Sherlock across from him in the room. Sherlock mirrored his expression and nodded slowly.
David and Denise returned to the sitting room with some snacks and three cups of black tea.
Denise also carried her infant child in her other arm.
Indeed, he had multiple bruises on both his head and neck. Eyes too. He had a black eye on his left eye. John's eyes zeroed in on the two puncture marks on the baby's neck. It was as if those marks had come straight out of a classic vampire movie.
John shuddered at the sight. Battered Baby Syndrome? he thought. John did not remember David telling him anything about the baby's other wounds!
He wondered if he needed to call the police on both parents later on.
Suddenly, their second son came running to the sitting room too. He wrapped his arms around his father's waist before David could even react.
He did have a strong resemblance to David.
John glanced at Sherlock, whose gaze was now fixed on the baby instead of wandering around the whole room and whatever else he could deduce about the house from there.
"Er- how old is he?" John stepped forward and asked, pointing at the baby.
"A little short of six months," said Denise, smiling weakly. "Can't wait for his weaning period to start," she added as they all sat down to have tea, barring the ten-year-old kid who kept standing there with his gaze fixed on Denise's baby. "I mean, don't get me wrong, we obviously love this champ, I know I do more than anyone else, but… exclusive breastfeeding would take a toll on any woman," she said and chuckled.
John glanced at the baby's bruises and raised his brow at the irony. He chose not to comment on that.
Sherlock and John began to sip on their cups of tea. Denise and David joined them. For a few moments, no one knew how to break the ice, so an awkward silence filled the sitting room. John looked around at Sherlock, who was now looking at the ten-year-old with great interest.
"So what brings you here?" asked Denise, rather sharply, looking at both Sherlock and John.
"We're just David's friends," John replied quickly, sitting up straight. "He invited us to his place, so here we are."
"David's never mentioned you two."
David awkwardly chuckled at that, looking around at his wife. "Well, they are my new colleagues at work, and… we all clicked right away. I had actually invited them to dinner tonight, and I was gonna tell you about it. There must've been some confusion about time for these two." They both laughed, and David closed his eyes in relief.
"That's okay, I'm glad we're having tea and snacks together if you two really are David's friends," Denise said as she held her baby close, slowly putting him to sleep.
"Did you look into those codes I sent you last week, mate?" John asked David to tease him.
David coughed. "Yes, I did. They really helped me out a lot, mate. Thanks a ton," he added sarcastically.
"Ha! I learned Python about a decade ago," Denise began in a soft voice because of the sleepy child in her arms. "I even learned to automate boring stuff with it. You know, like renaming a hundred files at once. Python was perfect for that."
"Python is still used extremely commonly. You'd know that if you tried to keep up with the latest information," said David coldly. Denise looked down at her lap and pursed her lips.
John knitted his brow. David had not mentioned this part of their relationship back at Baker Street! Mariana would have definitely given him an earful if she were here.
John tried to ignore the tension. "Oh, I didn't know you were also into IT stuff!" John leaned in, sitting in his chair.
Denise opened her mouth to speak, but David butt in, "She used to be. It has been a long time since she went near a computer now." He laughed.
"That's not true at all," said Denise, glaring at her husband, but he ignored her.
"Um, well… I was just surprised because David told me you were a stay-at-home mum," said John, trying to ease the tension in the air.
"Well, yeah. I am now, because David and I mutually decided that I should quit my job." Denise sighed. "I enjoyed myself working in that field a lot, but… child-rearing and all the housework in itself was taking a toll on me, and then my job on top of it eventually became too much," she replied hesitantly and glanced at David.
David snorted as if to mock her.
Denise got up with the baby in her arms and made her way to the nursery upstairs. David immediately went after her to grab the baby from her arms. He narrowed his eyes at her in suspicion, and then he went upstairs to put the baby back to sleep. Denise hurried after him.
David's other son followed his gaze upstairs, too, for a moment.
John pursed his lips, witnessing all that.
Denise and David came back downstairs to the sitting room in a minute.
"What's the baby's name?" asked John.
"Derek," they both said in unison.
Denise smiled. "Though I had liked James better at first -"
"- which was a stupid choice. So, obviously, Derek it was," David interjected. Denise's smile faded.
"And my name is Daniel, if anyone cares," said the ten-year-old boy and stormed out of the sitting room.
Raising his brow in surprise, John realised this was the first time the boy had said anything during this whole interaction.
Denise threw a glare in Daniel's general direction but did not move. David shook his head and got up from the sofa with a sigh, probably to go after his son and check on him. "This boy, I swear. So short-tempered."
Denise looked behind her, as if to make sure David was not coming back to the sitting room yet. "Um, we were talking about computer languages earlier. I think the latest one is Mojo, isn't it? That one is especially being used for training generative AI models." Denise expectantly looked at both of them
John put his cup on the coffee table. "Erm, well…"
Sherlock quickly finished off his tea. "We should leave," he said, mainly to John and abruptly got up.
John awkwardly clenched his teeth as he got up. "Why? What happened?" he asked Sherlock.
"Sorry, Mrs Warner, but we have some urgent… business we need to attend to. We'll meet again," said Sherlock and immediately walked out of the house.
John looked around at Denise, who stared in Sherlock's direction with parted lips. "Sorry about that. Er, I'll just…"
Denise nodded politely, and just like that, that painful conversation was over.
John sighed in relief and quickly made his way out of the house to join Sherlock on the nearby pavement outside. "What the hell was that?" He and Sherlock walked briskly towards their rented car.
"Our case is almost solved," said Sherlock and entered the car through the driver's seat. "We just have to wait till nighttime now."
John got in the car too. "Solved? What do you mean? I thought we just had a painfully awkward and toxic chat with the Warners – in which only I participated, mind you – and we abruptly got out of there before we could even investigate anything. All thanks to you." John shot him a glare. "We wasted our time there and nothing else." He took a deep breath.
"Are you quite done?" Sherlock asked him pointedly, putting back on his eyeglasses and ear defenders. "Because I only have two theories at this point to choose from. One of which is going to be confirmed tonight, when we manage to keep a close eye on Denise. Particularly when she puts Derek to sleep in his crib for the night."
John sighed. "And what are those two theories, if I may ask you?" The sarcasm was evident in his tone.
"No," said Sherlock, starting the car. "You may not ask me just yet."
***
Sherlock drove the car back towards the Warners' house and stopped it beside the back door after a few hours of idle chatter and some dinner that he and John had at a nearby inn in the evening.
John had wondered a couple of times about what Sherlock's plan even was after the small talk they had with the Warners in the afternoon. He had even tried to ask him about it, but Sherlock had kept changing the topic, showing no apparent interest in the case.
As much as John loved Sherlock, and especially his mysterious side, he and Mariana absolutely hated being kept in the dark at any point in a case.
They had even called him out on this multiple times. But today, Sherlock had not been complying for some reason.
John then decided to wait for the case to unfold, having been left with no other option.
Sherlock took off his black glasses because it was getting dark. He held out a hand to John. "Binoculars," he said, staring at Derek's nursery window upstairs through the windshield of the car.
"Now who's stalking?" asked John briskly.
"We don't have time for this, Watson. If we don't solve the case by tonight, we're cooked."
John looked around at Sherlock and found a small smirk on the corner of his mouth. He flushed and let out a chuckle as he handed the binoculars to Sherlock from the glovebox.
"Did I say that right?" Sherlock teased.
"Yeah-yeah, you did. On with the case already. What do you plan to do?" John cleared his throat.
"Wait and watch," Sherlock said, adjusting the binoculars. "For now."
"Can you see David anywhere in the house?"
"Mm, good question," Sherlock said and began to scan the whole house, both with his naked eye and through the binoculars. "No, he isn't home."
"Shit. Should we go in?" John sat up, all alert.
"Not so soon." Sherlock was now wholly focused on Derek's nursery upstairs for a long moment. "Denise has arrived with Derek in her arms. Derek looks drowsy – looks like she just fed him."
"Or drugged him."
"Oh, hush you, John. Focus." Sherlock's muscled neck was a bit strained as he kept looking up.
John shrugged, trying not to stare at Sherlock's neck too much. "Maybe she's drugged David, too, given how openly toxic he is to her. Who knows?"
Sherlock adjusted the device some more. "Ah, yes. In comes the delinquent. A rather violent one this time." Sherlock handed the binoculars to John with his eyes still on the window upstairs.
"The delinquent?" John furrowed his brows as he tried to see what was really going on. The moment he could see the interior of the room carefully, he gasped in horror.
Daniel, the ten-year-old 'delinquent', was standing in the nursery's doorway with a big, sharp knife in his tiny hands. John and Sherlock could not hear anything from outside the house, but Denise was obviously shouting at Daniel, asking him to leave the room, with the baby firmly secure in her arms.
"Now we need to rush in," said Sherlock, and they both made a beeline for Derek's nursery.
Luckily, the front door wasn't locked, so they barged right in.
Sherlock took a picture of the scene as soon as he and John arrived upstairs, outside the nursery.
"Drop your weapon, Daniel," John said, panting as he came up running and stood right behind the child. "Drop it now!"
Daniel jumped in surprise and accidentally dropped the knife on his right foot. He fell on the ground and began to cry.
Derek, the baby, woke up just then in his mother's arms. As soon as he got situated, especially with the sight of a crying Daniel in front of him, he started crying too.
Denise was trying her best to soothe Derek so he could go back to sleep, but none of her attempts worked.
John and Sherlock looked around at each other helplessly. It was the first time in John's podcasting career that he had to deal with a criminal that young. First time in his whole life, in fact.
Also, John was not exactly good with children either. He awkwardly held out his arms so he could help Denise with comforting Derek at least, but what on earth could he possibly do?
Suddenly, they heard the front door open. David entered the house with a bag of groceries in his arms. His eyes went straight upstairs to the scene in which John was stuck.
David dropped his bag and came running upstairs. "What's going on here?" he demanded, looking at Sherlock, John, and then at Denise, too, still thinking she was the one behind all these horrifying events.
David's eyes fell on Daniel, who was still on the ground, hugging his right foot and struggling to take the knife out of his bleeding toe. David immediately got on his knees to tentatively help Daniel with his toe. The knife had only hurt him superficially, so David easily took it out.
David picked up Daniel and was now carrying him on his forearm, being careful not to hurt his son's foot.
"What the hell did you do to my Daniel?" David pointed a finger at Denise, who now looked at him with her brow furrowed in confusion and eyes filled with tears. "You've started to hurt my other son too now, you b-"
"- Denise didn't do anything here, David," Sherlock said, cutting him off. "Derek's bruises are your own son's doing. The one you carry in your arms right at this moment."
John had figured it out the moment he had seen Daniel from outside the house through his binoculars. He didn't have the words to express it at the time, not even to himself.
"What are you saying?" David looked around at Sherlock. He looked tearful, too. "How can a ten-year-old think of such a thing? He's not even capable of hurting a spider, you know."
"So, you thought it was me the whole time who hurt and tried to kill Derek? You thought I would hurt our own son – my own son?" Denise's voice was shaky.
"Denise's only 'crime' here was that she would try her best to keep Derek safe, even through unconventional methods. The injuries inflicted on Derek are all because of Daniel," said Sherlock and showed David a picture of the scene with Daniel in the doorway with a knife in his hands that he had taken a few minutes ago.
David sucked in a sharp breath on seeing that picture in Sherlock's phone, as though he had been punched in the gut. Daniel saw that picture of himself, too. He buried his face in his father's shoulder and started to quiver.
David carefully put Daniel on the floor and stared at him, as if seeing his own son for the first time. He gently guided him down the stairs, probably to give him some first aid at last.
Derek was still crying, but his sounds slowly died down as Denise gently rocked him to help him fall back asleep.
Sherlock and John rushed down the stairs, too, to follow David and check on him.
David made Daniel sit at the kitchen table. He crouched on the floor and was now tending his son's wounds. "I'll ask you once and only once, and I need the absolute truth from you in answer," David said sternly to his child. "Did you, in any possible way, hurt Derek?" David's voice shakily came out in a whisper.
Daniel wordlessly shook his head.
John stepped forward. "We just saw -"
David held up his hand to ask John to be quiet.
John pursed his lips but tried not to get in the middle.
"Did you, or did you not, hurt your own infant brother, Daniel? I won't ask again," said David, his tone getting a bit dangerous.
Daniel gave the kitchen table a hard kick, as hard as he could with his little feet and plastered toe, and some of the newly bought groceries fell on the floor. "He is not my brother!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, quickly going red with anger. "He's a damned monster! He can never be my brother!"
Denise came running downstairs because of all the noise; her hand clutched at her chest. She was taking in a lot of shallow breaths, standing in the doorway of the kitchen.
"Is Derek okay?" asked John, and he walked over to her to place an arm around her shoulders.
She swallowed and nodded. "He's safe. Fast asleep -"
"-Nobody in this house ever cares about me!" Daniel yelled again. "Everything is always about that stupid boy. Always!" On the verge of tears, he gave Denise the death stare, as though wanting to murder her for bringing Derek to this world, or being in David's life, or both.
Daniel would murder her if he could – John could tell that much about him.
David sat down on the floor with his head firmly grasped in his hands. "What do I do with you now? Where do we go from here?" he asked Daniel helplessly.
"This is a case of juvenile crime," Sherlock said, whipping out his phone. "A trip to the crown court is in order. I know someone in Brighton's court. I can ensure some leniency for Daniel."
"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Daniel stormed out of the kitchen.
"Look at that language!" Denise exclaimed.
"That's the least of our concerns right now," said Sherlock, exiting from the kitchen so he could make a call.
David stood up to face Denise properly. "Why did you never tell me about all this?" he asked in a raised voice.
Denise flared her nose. "I'd been trying to tell you exactly this for the last couple of months or so! Either you'd be busy with work, or you'd wave it off, thinking he was only 'playing' with Derek or something. That boy always made it a point never to make it look too bad whenever you were around. I don't know where he even gets all those ideas at the age of ten.
"Not only did you never take me seriously, but you also suspected me of Derek's attempted murder? I'm a mother, David. His mother. What part of that do you not get? Is that why you've been acting like an arse to me lately?
"You even appointed these two men to keep an eye on me, lying to me about them being your work friends this afternoon! Couldn't you have had a word with me about it? About such a serious thing as this?"
"Erm, I partially apologise, too, for… how we lied in the afternoon. I apologise both for myself and on Sherlock's behalf," said John, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
Denise ignored him. "Have I ever treated Daniel differently from Derek? Tell me one time I've ever done that." She let out a short, bitter laugh as David continued to glare at her. "You really showed me how little you care about me or Derek with the sheer lack of trust you just demonstrated, hiring a couple of private detectives on me like that. I don't even know if I can continue living with you like this… under the same roof."
"What are you going to leave me now? You wouldn't dare!" David's voice came out defensive.
"Watch me as I do," she said sharply and walked away.
*
John walked out of their house, searching for Sherlock in the chilly October evening. Sherlock was standing on the pavement just outside their house, still on his phone.
John gripped the gates of the house and went deep in his thoughts. He allowed himself to be a tiny bit glad after having helped Sherlock with yet another case, however dark it turned out to be. He gazed at Sherlock's handsome face from a distance and admired his side profile.
John was startled by a tap on his shoulder. It was Denise. She stood beside him now.
"Thank you both for helping me out, albeit unintentionally." She wrapped her arms around herself. "Derek would've died otherwise, given David's sheer neglect. I could do only so much for my baby." She swallowed.
"Don't mention it. We really are sorry about how things have turned out, though."
Denise hummed. "I knew you two weren't his colleagues right away in the afternoon. You're a terrible liar. And your friend right there, he wasn't even trying to put up an act at that time." She chuckled. "He just kept staring at Daniel the whole time, probably making a note about his general demeanour around Derek."
"Yeah, well, he is brilliant like that." John looked at Sherlock fondly from a distance.
"Do you two run a detective company or something?" she asked, smiling.
"Er- it's three of us, actually. Our third partner, Mariana, is out of town. He is Sherlock Holmes, and I'm his friend and colleague, John Watson. We even have a podcast! Haven't you heard of us?"
Denise blankly shook her head. "I stay away from podcasts as much as possible. I read a history book in my free time, limited as it is."
John laughed. "Well, glad we could help you," he said and walked over to the house gates. He turned around one last time. "Did you ever suck blood off your son's neck?"
She bit her lip and nodded. "Daniel had also been poisoning him with darts. I tried to help my son as best as I could, given all the circumstances at my home."
"Do-do you know that's an extremely ineffective and dangerous method to treat a patient with poisoning?"
Denise cringed. "Well, I kept asking David to take Derek to the hospital. He always shrugged it off. I suppose I should've taken him to the hospital myself, but… I don't earn. So, I don't take any major decisions – that's just how it is. You have seen how it is between me and David by now, haven't you, Mr Watson? So, I managed to find a home remedy online for this. It was just an instinctive thing, okay?" Her tone was defensive. "Even if I do make a major decision, David doesn't listen or take me seriously. I wish I had realised this sooner."
John nodded, trying to understand her point of view. "Please take Derek to the hospital tomorrow, will you? Your case is going to be out anytime soon anyway, so…"
"Yes, yeah!" Denise nodded. "I definitely will."
"Where did Daniel even get those darts, though?"
"Oh, he has a Brazilian aunt from his mum's side. She liked to decorate her place with cultural things, David once told me. She even had something called curare with her at home."
"Daniel must've sneaked some in with him to your place then."
Denise nodded.
A hesitant pause fell between the two of them.
"I know it'd sound weird to you, but… it's not like David neglects the children on purpose. He does try to be there for them when he isn't working."
"He clearly doesn't try enough," said John, surprising himself with his own directness. "And, no offence, but he doesn't seem to respect you either."
"Which is why I'm definitely leaving him," she said, nodding. "Although this house is nice. David had inherited it. I'm going to miss it." She sighed wistfully.
"John? Let's go," Sherlock called from the street.
John smiled and waved at Denise. "Good night." He walked out of the gates to join Sherlock on the street.
Sherlock kept walking beside John towards their rented car. "I thought you were going to spend the night there… with the woman."
The last part caught John off guard. He stopped in his tracks. "What do you mean? I was waiting for you to hang up on your phone call."
The two of them wordlessly got into the car.
"Still," said Sherlock with his hands on the steering wheel, "you two seemed rather friendly."
John knitted his brow and wondered what had got over his flatmate. "She's literally a client?"
Sherlock's eyes were fixed on the road even in a stationary car. "So was Mary."
John's head snapped to look at Sherlock sideways. "And what's that supposed to mean?"
Sherlock sighed and finally looked John in the eye. "Look, Watson – John." He visibly swallowed. "I'm sorry for your loss. I really am, and I have told you this over and over. I shouldn't have brought her up like this either. Sorry about that, too. But-"
"-But?" John held his breath.
"But you don't have to keep showing interest in every client we meet."
"When have I ever done that besides with Mary?"
"Well…" Sherlock glanced at the house behind them. The Warners' house.
"Why do you keep implying I have something going on with Denise? I met her today, right along with you. You do realise that, right?"
"You could keep in touch with her later. We are going to meet the Warners many times in the coming year, after all." Sherlock shrugged and looked down at his thigh.
John caught the feigned nonchalance in Sherlock's tone from his shrug and the fact that he had clenched his jaw, also, because of how much he hesitated looking John in the eye.
John raised his brow as something began to dawn on him. He perked up. "You're awfully hung up on this match-making thing between me and her!" He snorted.
"I'm not!" Sherlock quickly replied. "Why would I care? Honestly, forget it." Sherlock started the car abruptly.
John laughed and immediately placed a hand on Sherlock's forearm. "No-no, wait, stop. Stop the car." Sherlock stopped it right away.
"You-you just asked me a good question a second ago. Why would you care?" John teased him but also straightened up in his seat, hoping and waiting for the answer he wanted to hear.
Sherlock exhaled. "I… don't care. About you and Denise, I mean. Just about you."
John's eyebrows must have gone to his hairline as a smile played across his face. He cleared his throat and tried to act casual. "You'll have to elaborate on that, mate. You can't just -"
Sherlock leaned over the centre console and closed the distance between them to kiss John.
John shivered and held Sherlock's face in his hands to properly kiss him back. It was slow, mostly chaste, and filled with sighs.
John rested his forehead against Sherlock's, and they both chuckled.
"Jesus, I've wanted this for quite some time now," said John in a voice just above a whisper.
"I know." Sherlock traced a thumb along John's jaw.
"You know?" John repeated, feeling a bit stupid.
"You're not exactly subtle." Sherlock laughed softly. "I've wanted this too," he basically purred.
John flushed. "Let's continue this at Baker Street. After we've returned this car." He sat back and looked ahead at the road.
Sherlock laughed some more and started the car again so they could finally ride back to London. Neither of them could wait to get home to explore their new relationship further.
John, in particular, could not wipe off the grin on his face the whole ride, even if he tried.