Silence

'Be silent, don´t make a noise or he will hurt you!' The boy in the cage shivers from the cold, wet air and out of fear. Fear of being seen and being used for whatever the men who took him want to. Fear of the bored men who always find something new they want to teach the boy. Or fear of being forgotten, like the month before when he nearly died because no one came and gave him water. He had been so thirsty like never before in his life until his mind wasn't able to think anymore. They had found him and showed mercy. They gave him water and soup afterwards. Drinks and meals together is a rare occasion.

The boy doesn't understand why they keep him. His parents refuse to pay for him. No wonder. They would never answer a kidnapping or any other threat. They still have another 'perfect' son as heir. He loves his brother and the boy is sure that his brother loves him back but their parents aren't able to feel love or even affection for their children. They need perfect little puppets, with perfect manners, perfect dreams and perfect appearances. They need only one, when the second one gets killed it doesn't matter. 'He isn't perfect anyway, they don't need him' the boy thought for the millionth time since he heard his kidnappers argue about what should happen with him. What use is a child if no one pays for it? Useless; that is what he is, useless.

They had treated him relatively human in the beginning, until they got the message his parents wouldn't pay, then the horror of his captivity begun. Cutting his food and water, treating him worse than an unwanted animal they forbid him one day to talk, to make any kind of noise. No crying, no loud breathing, no making noises on the metal from the cage. Notingthat every noise led to a punishment led the boy hold his breath when one of the men was close.

The boy looks out of his cage, between the bars and dreams of a bit blue sky or the wind on his skin. He thinks about the last book he read and the feeling from the paper under his fingertips. He misses the warmth of a hug from his brother and a good night kiss in the evening on his forehead. He doesn't want to go home back to his parents but he wants his brother.

Greg Lestrade, twenty-one years old and his first week in his new job as police officer for the NSY, is nervous. Really nervous because he isn't sure that the police academy has prepared him probably to enter the base of a criminal organization. He isn't alone, his colleagues, the ones with much more experience, try to take away as much of his nervousness as possible.

Lestrade isn't sure what he expects as they enter the building but he is very sure a fight of life and death was not planned.

While walking through the gate the silence around them is more than a little suspicious. They know from the heat signature that there are at least ten people in the building. The first bullet that flies through the air is the one that nearly ends his life, a few millimeters to the left and the thing would have hit him in his eye. Lestrade throws himself to the ground behind a small container, taking cover. Later he couldn't tell what happened in which order but at least one of the criminals was taken down by his gun. He didn't kill the man, but he had injured his leg. Lestrade doesn't want to imagine the feeling he would have had if he had killed that man. He had never killed but even a criminal had the right to face justice alive.

After the gang has given up, most in pain lying on the ground, the police start to secure the crime scene and search the building. Lestrade and two other officers search the cellar. As they enter the last room of the corridor, they find something horrible, they found someone. In the far corner, locked in a cage made to hold dogs or other animals, is a child. The boy, not older than five, crouches in the corner farthest from the door. The room is dark, the only light coming from a naked light bulb from the ceiling. They boy doesn't move. Except for his moving eyes he could be dead.

The police officers lower their weapons and Lestrade, as the youngest, moves slowly to the cage. One of his colleagues gives him a bolt cutter to open the lock. He lowers himself down and tries not to lookthreatening.

"Hey sunshine, my name is Greg. I´m a police officer and I will get you out of here. Okay?" The boy´s eyes watched him but he doesn't answer or move.

"I will cut open the cage; don't be surprised. I will make sure none of the pieces hurt you." Still no reaction. it is good that the boy is away from the door. Lestrade uses the bolt cutter on the lock and puts the pieces in his pocket before he opens the door.

"You can come out now. It´s safe. We will bring you home." It takes more than a minute before the boy starts to move but he stops in the middle of the cage, as if he is waiting for Lestrade to move away from the door. Sensing it, Lestrade steps back and waits for the boy to come out.

Standing in front of the police officers they can see him shiver- if out of fear or coldness is not clear. But the boy must have been a prisoner for a long time. Thin, dirty and very frightened. Lestrade slowly takes off his uniform jacket and lays it around the boy´s shoulder. Wrapping him is a better word for it, and to his surprise the boy is not moving, just waiting.

"Can you tell me your name or where you live?" Big blue eyes look into his soul but no words are spoken. "Let´s get out of here. We can find out the other stuff later." Smiling he picks up the boy who doesn't fight, and by the time they reach the door upstairs, his little fingers cramp into Lestrade´s shirt.

Outside half a dozen ambulances are waiting for them, one especially for the boy who was found, who is still not talking or making any noise, holding on to Lestrade as if he is his only life-line.

The paramedics do what they can in this situation; treat his small injuries, give him something to drink and make sure the boy doesn't go into shock. Lestrade stands close to the boy, writing into his note book, every useful piece of information that could be important later. He also writes down everything that could help to identify the boy.

He looks down to the boy as he pulls weakly at his shirt. Lowering himself to the boy´s height, he smiles a bit, not too much, but enough to encourage the boy to say what he needs. "Yes, sunshine?" The boy doesn't speak but he points at the note book and Lestrade gives it to him. Wondering what the small boy wants, he looks upside down on the paper to see it. Before he can read it, the note book is given back to him. It says 'Sherlock' in beautiful letters. He has never seen a child write like that. The handwriting is beautiful.

"Is this your name?" Lestrade asks, what else could it be? The boy nods ones. He gives the name to his colleague so someone could find his parents. He stays by the boy, sensing that he has started to trusts him and he won't risk that trust.

The name is rare, rare enough to find the boy´s family very easy. After the paramedic says Sherlock is fit for the journey, Lestrade puts him into an unmarked police car. He hasto buckle the seat belt, because he doesn't do it on his own and they drive to Sherlock´s home address. He is too busy holding onto Lestrade´s uniform jacket but after explaining that Sherlockcould keep hanging on, the seat belt was closed and they were on the road.

Lestrade´s colleagues had called the family and as they stop the car in front of an old, majestic looking mansion, the parents are already waiting at the door. The DI gets out of the car and walks around to open the door for Sherlock, but the child isn't moving.

"Sunshine? You are home, look over there, your parents are waiting for you." Lestrade points at the front door. Sherlock looks at Lestrade and not at his family. He looks a bit disappointed and a bit angry as if bringing him back to his family is a bad thing.

Lestrade pulls out his card from his pocket, the one with his private number and address added to his work number. "Here is my number, when you need something or you don't feel safe call me. I will help you." He puts the card into the child´s hand and nods encouragingly. Sherlock closes his small fingers around the card, gets out of the car and holds out his arms to get lifted again, a wish that Lestrade gladly fulfills.

Sherlock´s parents are waiting (patiently?) for them to walk over to the front door. As Lestrade stands in front of them he sets down the child and introduces himself. Sherlock keeps holding his hand; he doesn't even look at his parents.

Suddenly Sherlock´s name is shouted and travels out of the door as another child, maybe twelve comes outside, breathing heavy and still in his pajamas. Sherlock lets go of Lestrade´s hand, turns around and jumps into the open arms of his brother. Still without making a noise Sherlock cries silently into his brother's shirt.

"Thank you for bringing him home." Says the older brother politely, fixing Lestrade with his eyes and then leaving them outside the door. His parents and Lestrade are left behind as the brother brings Sherlock inside the house. Sherlock´s face is hidden from the world, and holding on to his brother, disappears.

After the case is closed, the boy never talks about what happened. Lestrade doesn't think too hard about the two children and the cold parents. Because it would just eat him up. He saw why the boy didn't want to get out of the car; he saw that only the older brother showed real happiness that Sherlock was back. But he can do nothing about it. So he doesn't think… best to stop thinking at all.

"No." Mycroft says with iron coldness. "I´m not leaving Sherlock."

"Son, there is nothing to discuss, you will go to that school." His father says, not even looking at his oldest child, still having his head in the economics part of the Sunday paper.

"Darling, your father and I want only what's best for you, and this is the best school in the country. Everyone who wants their child to become something great sends their children to that school, just like we want you to go there." His mother tells him looking at him at last, but without any affection.

Mycroft is angry, not only angry, he is furious. His parents want to send him away and leave Sherlock here with them. It´s only three months since he was brought home by that police man. His little brother hasn't spokenthe whole time, sleeps in Mycroft's bed to lessen the nightmares or better fewer nightmares, He needs a light to calm down enough to go to sleep but even in Mycroft's dreams his brother makes no sound. Two doctors confirm that Sherlock is able to talk physically but because of the trauma he won't do it. The child psychologist hasn't achieved anything even now. There is no way he will leave his brother alone in this house without love.

"Mycroft." His father puts the newspaper on the dinner table. "We are your parents, we say what is happening until you are old enough to decide it for yourself and that will be when you are an adult. Until then you do what we tell you. That means you go to that school. End of discussion."

Defeated, Mycroft lets his head fall forward and looks at his plate. He hasn't eaten much, more than Sherlock next to him who hasn't touched his food but this isn't good for him. He is still too thin and hasn't gotten back the weight he had lost while being captured.

Later that evening, with both of them in Mycroft´s bed he holds his little brother close, if he didn't need to be the strong one he would cry. Cry because the world is unfair to them.

"Sorry Sherlock, I promisede to stay with you but they won't let me. I hate being a child. I want to grow up fast so we can both get away from here." Sherlock´s little hands hold on tight to Mycroft´s pajama shirt, and as they suddenly let go of it, Mycroft looks down and sees something in his brother´s eyes that he hadn't expected: hope.

Sherlock gets up and walks over to the corner where he has placed a few of his things. The jacket of the police officer that brought him home is one of the items that laid there. Coming back to Mycroft, he places a business card onto his brother´s hands. Mycroft takes it and reads a name, home address and private number. Not the normal business card of a police officer.

"You want him to help us?" Sherlock nods once. "You know he is a police officer, if we run away and go to him he has to bring us home. He would be committing a crime by hiding us." Sherlock shakes his head. Mycroft has to smile. His brother is the best when you have to choose which person will help you and which one will betray you.

"Good, then let's go." They pack a few clothes, their favorite things like Sherlock´s pirate book, a bit of food and water and all money they can find. Without getting caught the two boys make their way to London, capital of Great Britain.

Lestrade is a light sleeper, many noises wake him and since he started working for the police he has been sleeping even lighter. First he thought that he had imagined the knocking sound on the front door but as it sounds again after a few seconds he gets up, puts his dressing grown on and walks to the door. His gun lays safe in his hand behind his back.

Arriving at the door, Lestrade hears it knocked again. "Who is there?" he asks through the locked door.

"Someone who needs your help." Lestrade looks at his watch, it is after three in the morning and this is the voice of a child. Hiding his gun he opens the door. In the dark he needs a few seconds to recognize the boys, but at his front door in the middle of the night is Sherlock´s big brother (still doesn't know his name) with the small sleeping Sherlock on his back.

Without hesitation Lestrade steps out of his door and takes the sleeping child before the brother collapses under the weight and silently takes the boy inside. The older one looks dead tired but is also very focused on his brother as if he could ensure that Lestrade caarries Sherlock correct but even with the adult behavior the boy has shown the two times Lestrade saw him he was still a child, a very tired child with a desperate mission.

"My brother told me you would help us." The words are very seriously spoken but he's a bit unsteady on his feet. He tries to get on with the reason he came here. .

"I have a small guest room with a bed, how about you both have a good night sleep and we'll talk about all the important things later. And yes your brother is right, I will help you with whatever it is you two need help with. I won´t tell anyone that you two are here and I guess no one will look here anyway. But everything else can wait until later."

It's good that he has that Monday off. He has no excuse for not coming into work except hiding two children that ran away from home. He's not sure why he does it in the first place but Sherlock is not the only one that had a look on his face that screams for help.

The older brother is very cooperative. He takes off his and then his brother's shoes, gets rid of his coat and climbs into the bed holding the blanket up so Lestrade can lay Sherlock down next to him.

"Good night you two." He whispers at the door but the older brother is already asleep. Leaving the bedroom and entering the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee, Lestrade thinks about his new situation for the rest of the night.

Late in the morning the first sound is heard out of the guest room, a crawling out of bed and tiptoed steps to the kitchen. Then, standing in the morning sunlight, is five year old Sherlock half sleeping, smiling up at him. It makes Lestrade smile too.

"How about breakfast sunshine." Lestrade doesn't know why he prefers to call Sherlock 'sunshine' but the boy doesn't mind. It is probably because it is the first he called him. In that cellar, in the darkness.

Sherlock just shakes his head for a no. "You don't even know what I can offer, right?" The boy just looks at him. "We could make something together and then surprise you brother with it. He was very tired when you two came here yesterday. He must have carried you a long way." Sherlock´s eyes get a bit sad. "We can make him pancakes." Happy nodding came. "Alright, then let´s begin." He lifts the boy to the worktop next to the sink; he gets a big bowl and they start.

Mycroft wakes up to the laugh of a man, a laugh he doesn't know. He is in a room he doesn't recognize and Sherlock is missing. He gets up and follows the noise to the kitchen. Sherlock and the policeman, no Lestrade, are busy making breakfast and it looks like both are having fun. Not that Sherlock laughs out loud, but he smiles and is in a good mood.

Mycroft had missed that smile, his brother only smiles whan close to him, rarely, and not once since coming back. Okay, Mycroft has to admit that they hadn't many opportunities to laugh at home. A thing that was sad itself.

"Good morning Mr. Lestrade." Mycroft gets the attention of the two people in the kitchen. Sherlock jumps down happily from the work top and into his arms. Lestrade turns around.

"Good morning to you too. I think hiding two runaways gives us the right to switch to first name basis, please call me Greg. And speaking of first names, what´s yours?" It hits Mycroft that he had never introduced himself, not the day Sherlock was brought home or the night before as he had asked for shelter. One of the most important rules of politeness.

"It´s Mycroft, Mycroft Holmes." A shy smile finds its way to his lips. This man is amazing, he finds a way to make Sherlock happy, he is good with him. Sherlock is right again. His little brother is so much better in understanding people.

"Breakfast is ready, Sherlock and I made pancakes and you can set the table if you think you can manage." Challenge accepted he thinks as Lestrade winks at him and starts to search the kitchen for plates, forks and knifes. Sherlock puts the pancakes on the table and Lestrade brings cups and milk for them to drink. A minute later everything is all set and they sit down. With a pancake on each plate they begin to eat and to Mycroft´s endless amazement Sherlock starts to eat too.

After they all finish, and fill up with the warm and sweet food, it's time to talk. But first Mycroft has to tell Les.. Greg something important. Sherlock is a bit restless; he jumps up from the table and walks over into the living-room to the bookshelf.

"How did you make him help you make food or more important how did you get him to eat?" Lestrade looks at him surprised. "Easy. I asked him to help me make a delicious breakfast for you."

"But Sherlock hates breakfast. He won't eat unless you force him to. But whatever you did. Thank you. We don't often get the affection children are supposed to get." Mycroft is more honest than he had intended to be but he knows he can trust this man and why couldn't he just tell the truth once in his life.

Hearing that, Lestrade realizes the children who came out of a rich home had grown up without love. Without the feeling of being safe. To grow up to the age of twelve Mycroft needs as much love as Sherlock. Both need a place where they will want to go. But first he needs to know what caused the two boys to suddenly run away.

"Mycroft, can you tell me why you two ran away? I mean the exact reason why you two choose to come to me last night." The second sentence is said quickly after Lestrade sees the face Mycroft made. Mistrust and a second later resignation, the only place where he can hope for help is here with him. Meaning he has to talk and more important trust him.

"Our parents want to send me away to bordering school. Not that I would complain about the chance to leave them but I don't want to leave Sherlock and especially not alone with them. They don't love us. We are only their trained toys to be the perfect little children. They hadn't even tried to help Sherlock as he was kidnapped. They didn't pay the ransom, they betrayed him. Parents are supposed to protect their children but they didn't save Sherlock. He hasn't spoken a word since you brought him back. We can understand each other without words. We always had our little secret ways to communicate but they don't understand him. They don't help him and how should he tell them when something is wrong or he needs something without them listening to his way of speaking. I won´t leave him. I would prefer to live on the streets and eat rubbish if I could be with Sherlock. For your information that was my first plan. Run away and hide on the streets but Sherlock gave me your card and told me you would help us so please, I´m begging you, please help us." While Mycroft tells their story Sherlock is still in the living room sorting through the books and Lestrade sits in front of a child that behaves more like an adult than many he has met. Lestrade needs to find a way to help them because the casual mention of living on the streets is also a threat that if he can't help them they will run away again. And he is sure that with bright minds like theirs they could manage it.

"Maybe I don't know what we can do but I know someone who can help us figure it out." He smiles at Mycroft to tell him without words that he will do what is needed. Lestrade gets a nod from the boy and he takes out his phone to call someone who still owes him a favor. The person on the other end answers after a second.

"Hey Greg, it's a long time since you called." The voice from a young woman is now present in the kitchen. Lestrade has the phone on speaker so Mycroft and Sherlock, if he isn't too busy with the books, can listen to the conversation.

"Yeah, sorry Molly. I was a bit preoccupied. But listen I have a question for you." He waits. "Shout." is the answer in her always sunny mood.

"Let´s say, theoretically I have two children with me that ran away from home." Lestrade can hear the sigh on the other end. Yes she knows it is not theoretical. "And let´s say they can´t go back because they would get separated. They have a home and living parents but the parents doesn't treat them properly. They're not getting hit or anything like that. It's the absence of love that is harming the children. Oh and let's assume one of the boys got kidnapped once months ago and the parents didn't help him." He ran out of information; sighing to himself he stops his babbling. "What can I do to help them?"

There was a long break before the answer comes. "I guess you would have to bring the children to social services and let them handle it. Maybe to someone you know to make sure that the children are listened to and that a proper investigation is made." Another break. "I have time after lunch. See you."

"Thanks Molly." Lestrade says before she ends the call. Placing his phone back into his pocket he turns to Mycroft. "Guess we will do that. She is a friend from school; she will help us and not call the cops on me for kidnapping two children." A truth that could still happen.

Mycroft gives his aprovement about the development of the situation. The woman sounds nice and if she would lei he or Sherlock would figure it out. But as long as Sherlock and him can stay together he will talk to her and to every person needed to get their wish fulfilled.

"How about you have a look in the living room and check on Sherlock, not sure what he is doing. I will clean up the table and then we can go and visit Molly." He nods, thanks to their late or better early awakening it was already noon. So they have their appointment really soon.

As Mycroft enters the living room he already knows what to expect. His little brother has sorted a bookshelf again. He hopes Greg has no particular order for his books. Every few days Sherlock would rearrange the bookshelf in his room. Some orders were easy to follow like author names or topic but following the date of appearance or the numbers of words was a bit more difficult to spot.

Sherlock settles at the bottom, finishing his last change and smiles proudly at him. "Sherlock, we have an appointment with one of Greg´s friends who can help us." His brother nods stands up and walks back into the guest room, the same second Greg enters the room and eyes the books.

"Looks like I have a rainbow from now on in my living room." That is right, Sherlock changed the order of the books following the colors of the rainbow. Mycroft smiles too. Greg isn't angry, he also recognizes what Sherlock did and he is okay with it.

Sherlock comes back, shoes on his feet and holding his jacket, ready to go.

"Guess we are ready to go. We will have to take the subway." Greg looks down at them. Sherlock looks excited and Mycroft also very interested. "So, am I right, none of you ever used the subway?" He sees two children nodding. "You will be surprised."

And they are, even before they enter the underground, but not by transport, no by Sherlock. He holds Mycroft´s hand like usual but takes Greg´s as well right after he locks the front door. Without hesitation the policeman´s big hands close around Sherlock´s little one.

The way to the underground station isn't far and as they walk down the stairs many people walk with them or in the other direction. Mycroft hears a growling noise from Greg and looks at him.

"Forgot how crowed it can be around noon. Don't let go of my hand." He tells them but after they nearly get separated by a group of students Greg picks Sherlock up in his arms and keeps Mycroft as close as possible.

In the train itself the trio is pushed into a corner, which is good. Lestrade shields them with his body. Mycroft is in the corner between the walls and Greg´s body and Sherlock in his arms next to Mycroft; both safe, close together, without losing eachother and away from direct contact with the other people. Sherlock gets a bit nervous, now that he can look at all the people.

The ride is short, and together with the majority of the passenger they leave the train and the underground behind. Still in Lestrade´s arms Sherlock looks everywhere but doesn't demand to be let down.

They enter the building where Greg´s friend works. With every step Mycroft moves closer to his brother and Greg, a movement that doesn't go unnoticed by the policeman. He lays his arms protectively around Mycroft´s shoulder to leads him in the right direction. Both children react very positive to touch as if they haven't had much. To Greg´s horror he realizes it is probably true. No hugs or kisses from parents; he has two touch-starved children close to him. Even with the rare touches he had used, they grow closer every second. He, a stranger, has shown the boys more affection then their own parents.

Greg knocks at Molly´s door and after a polite `enter please` he and the two children do. There ware two chairs, Mycroft sits on one and Greg on the other one after he had hugged Molly and gave her a kiss on her cheeks. Sherlock is safe in his arms and now on his lap.

The conversation is … Greg would say, good. He guesses. Molly listens patiently as Mycroft tells her why they can't stay at their parents any longer, why they ran away and why they decided to go to Greg for help. He tells her about their home, the absent behavior of their parents and the incident with Sherlock´s kidnapping and his inability to talk since then. Sherlock waits on Greg´s lap and listens to his brother´s words. As Mycroft finishes he and Sherlock fix Molly with their soul-reading eyes and to Greg´s surprise she doesn't shy away.

"I guess you two have no relatives you want to live with, right?" She asks right away. She must have noticed, while listening to his story, the adult like behavior Mycroft shows.. As Mycroft and Sherlock shake their head at the same time without thinking Molly sighs.

But before she can say anything else Sherlock moves. He jumps down from Greg´s lap, goes over to his brother, pulls his sleeve and points with his other hand at Greg; Mycroft looks into his brother´s eyes seems to understand the meaning and looks up.

"We want to live with Greg." With endless surprise Greg looks at the two boys that he has known for less than a day. Molly looks at Greg and the children and isn't surprised at all. The easiness the two have are around him is evidence enough, but how could she manage to make Greg their guardian? She has seen many children that where abused in one or the other, and after listening to them she understands with all her heart how they feel and what they need.

"If you want us." Mycroft continues a bit insecure and looks up from his chair to Greg. Greg needs a moment to understand the words spoken by Mycroft. He hadn't thought about children in a while. When he had lived with his mother she had asked him sometimes if he was interested in starting a family with his current girl-friend but since he worked for the NSY he was focused on his career. Not a bad thing but with a sudden realization he wants the two children. He really wants them to stay with him. To make them happy, to save and protect them, all he does as a policeman for strangers. He wants to be their guardian and he would do anything for the chance to be their family.

Lestrade looks from Mycroft and Sherlock who have already read his mind (there was no other word for what they do) to Molly. "What do we have to do to make that happen?" Molly smiles proudly at him.

After they left Molly that day they couldn't go home, they had to go to someone who monitored the children, and Greg had to get his background check done. Many things were done by Molly without their knowledge like informing the parents, but Greg was too busy with his new job as a single parent.

Molly had given him an address in Baker Street where they have to go. Mrs. Hudson, a friendly old Lady opens the door, lets them in and shows them their room. Sherlock and Mycroft stay together, of course. And after begging, Greg gets the room next to them, so he can stay close too.

They can't stay at Greg's house until the custody battle is over, but Mrs. Hudson is a a good and understanding host. The children especially get a bit spoilt. A thing Greg will never stop.

The only thing that worries him during their stay is the silence from Sherlock. Yes, he is happy, eats and is open to everything they do, whether it is a walk in the park or shopping with Mrs. Hudson. But he never says a word.

One evening as Greg comes back from his shift and the boys are already in bed, he sits down with Mrs. Hudson. The only comfort she can give him is that Sherlock will start talking again when he feels safe again. !00 % safe, and she doesn't expect it to happen before the whole custody thing is over and the two are Greg´s.

In the end it wasn't that hard to get the guardianship for Sherlock and Mycroft. Their parents fought of course but when it changed into a public event of children's rights and parenthood they gave them up very quickly. Lestrade wishes they had fought a bit harder just so he can pretend that they loved their children a bit. But it is better this way. Maybe he isn't able to tell his, yes his children that their parents loved them even when they hadn't shown it, but he can love them, he shows them every day how much he loves his unexpected parenthood with his two little children.

It takes three long months until they can call themselves a family. They stay the whole time with Mrs. Hudson at Baker Street and as the day of the trial arrives she offers them the flat upstairs. Which they accept happily.

Now on their way home they feel lighter than ever before. They won't be separated. Greg has already found a good school close to Baker Street and the school also has a primary section for Sherlock in the following year. Sherlock is holding his hand again, something the boy does as soon as they walk outside as if he is afraid of getting lost and Greg likes the feeling of the small hand looking for safety.

Sherlock jumps up the stairs to the front door and knocks. Mrs. Hudson is already waiting for them and opens the door just a second later. After looking at the three happy faces she smiles too and starts to cry while she hugs Sherlock, then Mycroft and at last Greg.

"Welcome home my boys." She is as happy as they are.

"We are back." An unknown voice speaks behind Mrs. Hudson, the voice of a child. She and Greg look back at the front door where Mycroft, already in tears, is hugging his brother . Sherlock has spoken.

She was right, when Sherlock felt safe again in his life he started talking again. With his children (one crying, the other one being held by said brother) they are invited to tea and cake in Mrs. Hudson´s kitchen. The beginning of a not so boring life for all of them, happily waiting for the first night in their new home as a family.