Chapter 6: Sherlock

John woke up in the early hours of the morning. He needed a second to notice it but the comforting warmth of William was missing. The boy always slept close enough for him to reach out and touch him. John panicked. He had had a hard time getting William to sleep last night. His little friend had finally fallen asleep very late yesterday after being sick and feeling poor the whole evening. First John lifted the blanket, the child could have moved under it or was hiding or whatever a child did under a blanket during the night, but he wasn't there. What he found was a toy. Sherlock's beloved toy bee.

John picked up Mr. Bee and walked downstairs. Deciding not to shout out William's name he looked first in the kitchen and then walked over into the living room. And there in the silver light of the moon was his flat mate, sleeping covered only with a bed sheet and sleeping deeply. John let out a sigh; he had found William or better Sherlock. His flat mate looked exactly like the man he had left alone in the flat last week. His messy mop of black curls surrounded the face of an adult and John had to smile at the picture in front of him. Careful not to wake his friend, John walked over and placed Mr. Bee next to his him. Sherlock's hand closed automatically around one of Mr. Bee's wings and he pulled the toy closer to cuddle up with it in his sleep.

Probably for the last time in a while John got his phone and took a picture. In the faint light his friend was lying with his childhood toy, sleeping peacefully. Certain he wouldn't be able to fall back asleep again, John sat in his chair and watched his friend sleep until the sun rose.

Sherlock woke to the sound of waking London. The sun tickled in his eyes and made black spots on his sight. He felt… better. He couldn't remember what had happened last night but he had woken up and something had been wrong. Walking around the flat hadn't helped and his bed hadn't felt right so he had ended up on the sofa, the center of the flat, at least for him. He liked to watch life happening from there and especially John walking around doing his things. Making tea, cooking, reading or writing on his blog.

Moving his head around to face the room he waited for his eyes to get used to the light. His head didn't hurt anymore and the nausea he had felt was gone. Something soft was in his hand and the thin fabric around his naked body felt nice. Thinking about it: 'where were his clothes'? Finally deciding to face reality he opened his eyes and found John in front of him, sitting in his chair and watching him. Without a word he got up and made tea.

John came back and offered him a steaming cup of tea. Sherlock didn't feel like talking, he nodded his thanks and took the first sip, closing his eyes to enjoy the flavor of the tea. But this wasn't the tea John usually made for him. It tasted milky and had a lot of sugar in it.

"John why is my tea tasting like milk?" Meeting his friend's eyes he saw something he didn't really want to see so early in the morning especially after the difficult night he had had. "What's so funny?" He didn't really want to raise his voice but then John shouldn't overdo it either.

"It's your magic tea. Like you wanted it the whole of last week." Magic tea? That didn't sound like him, not even his high-on-drugs me.

"Don't be childish John, you just put in more milk and sugar so that even a child would drink it…" Maybe he wanted to say something more but the words didn't come out and his mind stopped for a second.

Child…

Child…

Child… The reverse aging experiment. "It worked?" As he sounded overly excited John had to roll his eyes a bit. Of course Sherlock didn't remember his time as a child. It made John a bit sad.

"Yes Sherlock your little experiment worked, not funny by the way to come home and find a very needy three year old in the flat that smelled like something had died in it." John was only playing the angry flat mate. Of course he was surprised and he wouldn't say it had been easy but Sherlock had to learn that he needed to for permission to something like that or at least give him some warning that this was going to happen.

"I'm not needy." Sherlock sounded offended.

"Are you sure? I had to keep you around me 24/7, I couldn't even use the toilet alone. You slept in my bed and you, Mr. Needy, you needed a good cuddle every hour." It hadn't been bad but the face Sherlock was showing him now was priceless. He couldn't remember the things, but he could read it on John's face that they were true.

"Really? Mycroft never shoved this onto my face. I thought he had used every little piece of information he has on me until now." Sherlock really sounded amazed.

"We can call 'Uncle Mycroft' to collect your toys for safe keeping." John pointed on the stuffy toy in Sherlock's lap. Sherlock looked down and a very peaceful expression showed on his face. The one he had had when Mycroft had first brought the toy. Mr. Bee was something special, a friend in his lonely childhood that still held a huge place in his heart. John watched as Sherlock stroked the broken wing and touched the antennas with his fingers a soft smile on his lips.

There wasn't really much difference between William and Sherlock. Only years of experience and growing up had shaped the sweet little boy to become this elegant and proud man that John could call his friend. A man who trusted him more than anyone else to keep him safe.