Like Father

Sherlock was tempted to roll over and bury himself further under the blankets when his doorbell rang early in the morning. He had gone home last night after the wedding, not even taking his shirt and trousers off before falling into bed. His coat was crumpled in a ball on the floor, his jacket somewhere nearby, in a trail to his bed.

But the doorbell rang again - twice this time, with annoying frequency - Sherlock pried his eyes open and kicked the blankets away.

Attempting to smooth out the wrinkles in his shirt and ruffle up his hair so it didn't look like he'd just crawled out of bed, he stumbled down the stairs to get the door.

He needed a shower. He felt smothered and sweaty, shirt clinging to him with sweat from unsettling dreams and smelling of a mini-bar from the wedding prior. His teeth had the fine film of missing the night-time brushing and he didn't want to imagine what the state of his breath was right now.

He was still pondering all the shortcomings of the day - the biggest being John having gotten married - as he wrenched open the door.

The greeting was little of how he expected. A little figure with long hair flung itself at his legs and it took all of his sluggish willpower not to let his legs crumple from the sudden attack. His legs were still trying to get around to waking up... as was the rest of his body, including his mind.

"... Archie...?" Sherlock asked slowly, looking down at the little boy hugging his torso. He looked up at the woman - Archie's mother - frowning in his sluggish state.

"I'm sorry that it's so early, but Archie just wouldn't give it up," she said.

Sherlock blearily looked back down at Archie. "Uh... Hi."

"Mr Holmes, Mr Holmes, can I see the pictures you promised?!" Archie asked excitedly, pulling away to look up at Sherlock.

"Uhhh..."

It was far too early for this. His brain was still frazzled from the wedding yesterday, from the almost-murder to, well, the actual wedding bit and, of course, Archie showing up at his door so early hardly helped to untangle the sticky web that was his thoughts.

"Sure," Sherlock said slowly. "Just... yeah."

"Would it be alright if I left him here for a bit? I've just got to pop to the store and if you're just showing him some pictures..."

Sherlock nodded once. "It's fine." He looked down at Archie, who was no longer hugging him but looking up at him expectantly. "Just... well, head on upstairs, then," he mumbled.

He felt vaguely like he'd been transported to an alternate universe. He had no idea what was going on, but it wasn't terrible... He just needed to get back to himself a bit. He hadn't even had a cup of tea yet.

Archie ran upstairs and Sherlock followed him more slowly, trying to sort through his thoughts. He still needed a shower. He wanted a cup of tea. Archie wanted to see photographs. Of... what?

"Is there really a picture of a headless nun?!"

Oh. The headless nun. Sherlock nodded again. "Yes. Photos... I've got... lots of photos. Lots of crime scenes. Lots of murders," he said. "Uh, just sit," he said, waving towards John's - not John's, his now, was always his, but different connotation now - "I'm going to make some tea and... then I'll pull up the photos..."

He definitely needed tea. If he was going to get through the next week without the help of a case or drugs, he would definitely need tea.

"Do you... want a cup?" he asked hesitantly, looking over at Archie. Children. They made him... nervous, almost. It was a very unsettling feeling.

"D'you have juice?"

Sherlock blinked slowly, filling the kettle. "... Orange juice," he said shortly, frowning. "Is that good for you?"

"Sure."

A cup of orange juice and a mug of tea steeped later, Sherlock sank tiredly onto the sofa next to Archie and pulled his laptop close.

"Are there pictures of people with things in their eyes?" Archie asked.

"Er, maybe," Sherlock said. He didn't exactly keep track of how many cases he worked that ended up with the victims having maggots, but if this Archie thing became more permanent, he may have to. For some reason, that didn't bother him as much as it probably should have.

Sherlock pulled up the photos of the headless nun.

"Oh, cool," Archie said, leaning slightly closer to the laptop screen.

Sherlock vaguely entertained the thought that Archie was probably going to spill his orange juice if he leaned closer. This also didn't bother him... What was a broken laptop to him? He had, like, fifteen around the flat on any given day.

And this was... almost preferable to a laptop, Sherlock thought with a small smile at Archie's little declarations at some of the more gruesome photos.

This boy was strange. Almost as strange as Sherlock had been at that age.

Sherlock sat up slightly, finger pausing on the mousepad.

"Mr Holmes?"

What a horrifying thought. This boy was as strange as Sherlock. He liked what Sherlock liked. That's why Sherlock got on with him. And children shouldn't like the stuff he liked. Because he was a freak, as Sally Donovan had always put it so eloquently.

Sherlock looked back at Archie, offering a faint smile. "Nothing, Archie. Here." He set the laptop down on the coffee table. "You can click through them."

"Cool," Archie replied, leaning forward to click through the photos, lingering on some and flashing by the others.

What did it say about Archie then? Because, if Archie acted like him... well, Sherlock knew how it turned out later on in life.

"You solved the case, you know," Sherlock said, on a whim.

Archie looked up. "What?"

"The case. At the wedding yesterday. The invisible man with the invisible knife," Sherlock clarified. "It was... good." He cleared his throat. "Really good, Archie."

Archie stared him for a moment before his eyes widening and a look of unbridled glee shot across his face. "Do you think I can solve crimes with you, Mr Holmes?"

The smile, this time, came without Sherlock needing to think. And so did the action: he laughed quietly and reached out to muss Archie's hair. He would only wonder afterwards how he knew the motion... a memory from his own childhood, perhaps.

"Maybe when you're older," Sherlock said calmly.

"Awesome." Archie looked back at the laptop and continued to click through the photos. "I want to be a detective."

It probably didn't speak much for Archie, but the statement made Sherlock smile like an idiot to himself, for reasons he didn't quite know. He took a sip of his tea to hide it.

"Mr Holmes?"

"Hmm?"

"What's that?"

Sherlock scooted on the sofa and leaned forward to squint at the screen. "Oh, that's... oh. A combustion case. A man exploded."

Archie stared at the photo for a moment longer before clicking onto the next one. "Neat."

Sherlock hid his smile again.

Ten minutes later, he had picked up his laptop to show Archie some old videos from crime scenes and, when Archie leaned against him to get a better look, Sherlock didn't have a singular complaint in his mind for once.

Love love love Archie. Had to do the headless nun bit; they left it wide open after the wedding! Need more of that kid in the series. xD Or, you know, John's kid if that actually happens.

I do not own Sherlock. Thank you!