a/n: good evening! Or, you know, whatever this is when you're reading it.

I'm just adding a quick note here because I want to dedicate this story to someone who's rather special to me. She's inspired Sherlock fics in the past, over on LJ, she's dealt with my madness and, bless her, she looks after me and she's been there for me through some pretty nasty business I've been dealing with that, as an internet friend, she probably (a) doesn't want to hear, (b) doesn't need to hear, and (c) probably shouldn't care about. But she does care, she listens and she's extraordinarily supportive even when other people don't get it or don't really help with what they say and she's basically an all round amazing lady who I'm extremely lucky to have found and even more lucky to have her put up with me. So, I dedicate my Sherlock comeback fic to her, and c'mon, I don't need to name her coz I don't know if she'll want that out there plus, really, by now she should know who she is coz I promised I'd send her the link coz I'm too lazy to multi-chapter on LJ, and that's all that matters.
So I'll keep being scarily weird, and one day I'll teach you to play guitar (not violin) and I didn't actually pass out from the pain in that driving test (even though I promised I wouldn't tell you if I did anyway, I promise I didn't - still failed though!) and you're still there to call me your 'little genius' and be a brilliant friend and it's truly, truly lovely and I hope you will be for a long time to come.
Much love.

Sorry to everyone who isn't the one person that was about, but everyone needs to gush sometimes!

In the nursery of a rather grand, old house sat a young woman and a small, male child. The woman, devoted as she was, enjoyed spending time with the baby in her care and, also, tried to make time for his older brother. But the boy was by now fifteen and more concerned with computer games than being blinded by her stories as he once was, and so would shout if he needed anything.

She'd been brought into the family unit five or so years previously; the elder boy's mother had just died and they needed someone to keep him company. She, at the age of 21, not long qualified in childcare was eager for a job and found that, even though the boy was clearly devastated by his mother's death, he had a lot of love to give out.

After an unfortunate accident in his childhood, the poor lad was left with spinal injuries and couldn't walk far, but she'd push him around the parks nearby in a wheelchair and tell him stories and fairytales and was always grateful to him for being so happy and friendly despite all of the hardships in his life. She'd heard horror stories about the children in the care of some of her friends and told herself on a regular basis that she was a very lucky lady.

The boy's father had remarried not so long back to a nice Peruvian lady, and the boy's whole demeanour had changed. He was fearful around the house, twitchy and sullen, becoming introverted. She'd tried her best to snap him out of it, but the only response she gained was shrugs and mutters of 'the woman is a vampire'. She was concerned at this statement, but he was a teenager and fully able to access the realms of cert15 (and 18) films so she assumed he was just projecting. His stepmother was foreign, after all, and younger than his father, so it was reasonable to believe he was referring to her being a money-grabber by elaborating into fantasy creatures. He loved his little brother though, and cheered up considerably outside of the house when she took them on walks, telling her tales of school and girls and how his legs were progressing. Advances in medical science, a number of operations and a lot of physiotherapy, meant he could now walk in the park (without the help of crutches now too) and it warmed her heart to see. The children felt like her own, and she didn't like seeing them unhappy.

This feeling meant she'd brought up with the boy's father the subject of Jack's apparent hatred of his new wife. Robert Ferguson frowned, he appeared anxious for a moment and then snapped out of it to assure her it was the plight of many a young boy whose father had remarried to give in his entire life and focus all of his energy into disliking her. Emma Mason apologized, stating it was her job to care, and Robert had patted her on the shoulder and assured her he was glad he'd found someone to look after his children who did truly care that much. Emma had smiled because, really, this was high praise indeed.

So now, she was sitting, playing with young Luis, a boy of just under a year old, who spent more time with her than his own parents, while Jack played on the computer in his bedroom. It was raining, or else she'd've dragged him out for a walk. She was sure Mrs Ferguson was somewhere in the house, working in her study doing something with fashion or something pretentious instead of talking to her family. Who had need of a baby when you had fabrics and a job to do?

"Emma?"

Emma set Luis down in the cot, where he mumbled unhappily and let out a squeal of distaste, and poked her head out of the door in the direction of Jack's room.

"Yes?"

"Come and see this!"

She smiled at the boys enthusiasm and turned to pick up the baby when Mrs Ferguson appeared, smiling, in the doorway.

"Go and see," she said in a heavily accentuated voice, and Emma was struck once more by how Jack could dislike a woman who seemed so kind. She nodded as the lady picked up and played with her son, heading down the hallway with a smile. She walked into the room and headed for the computer where pictures of the recent Venus transit covered the screen.

"Wow," Emma said, and Jack beamed.

"Cool, innit?"
"Very!"

Jack kept clicking; showing more and more vibrant and detailed pictures of the Sun. Robert popped his head around the door.

"Emma, where's Luis? He's crying."

Over the noise of the music from Jack's computer, Emma had to strain to hear, but the baby was definitely screaming.

"Is he on his own?"
"What? No! He's with Adriana."

They all left the room to the nursery, a weird sense of foreboding setting into them as they filed down the corridor.

"Adriana? Are you alright in there?"

They were greeted with silence. Emma frowned, pushing the door open to the nursery. She stopped dead, stunned, and then she screamed. Robert pushed her aside and gasped.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Mrs Ferguson had her teeth clamped to the screaming baby's neck. She pulled away, her eyes widening, blood trickling down her chin and the baby's neck. Robert rushed forward, snatching Luis from her arms, horrified.

Jack pushed past Emma, pointing at his stepmother.

"I told you she was a vampire!"

Adriana glanced at the boy, opened her mouth to speak, and then, seemingly determining it as a lost cause, let out a sob and rushed from the room, down the stairs, out of the door and into the next-door house of her Peruvian friend whom she'd came to England with and given a job to as housekeeper.

Emma and Robert exchanged a disgusted glance, before looking at a shaken Jack and a screaming Luis. Robert handed him over to Emma and muttered, "Stay with him," before rushing out after his wife.

"I told you," Jack mumbled once more, and Emma nodded, taking an antibacterial wipe and cleaning the wound on Luis' neck.

"I know," she said, trying to stem the bleeding, still in a state of shock. "I know."