This is a series of non-chronological snapshots of Sherlock and Irene's life. Some (okay, maybe at least more than half) will feature their theoretical son Nero, because that is adorable.

Basically, I just get these ideas in my head—just the little stories—that I like, but that are hard for me to put into a story with chronological order.

It is also entirely possible that one story will partially and/or completely contradict another. This will happen if I have different ideas about one situation. There will be a warning if it is an altered repeat in case you don't want to read it over.

There was a flash of movement. Anderson looked around for whatever it was. He was in Scotland Yard, since Lestrade asked him there to wait for the Freak to finish "reviewing" the crime scene photos in his office, in case Anderson had "missed something."

Another flash. "What the hell?" he heard the sound of feet approaching. He turned in time to see a little kid—probably no older than two or three—running straight for him.

"Whoa, kid where are you going?"

The kid had dark curly hair, and grey eyes. His ears were a little pointed and stuck out slightly. He was grinning, and his tiny teeth were bright white and unevenly spaced. He wore a little red-and-green button-down short-sleeve shirt, denim jeans, and tiny red Converse.

"What are you doing here? Where are your parents?" Anderson asked him, like the kid could answer. The boy just grinned and took off down the hall again. Anderson gave chase.

"What in the hell are you doing Peter?" Sally Donovan asked as he ran by. "There's a random kid on the loose!" he called back, making a complete fool of himself by knocking into things and people in pursuit of the little boy.

He finally caught him at the end of the hall. Scooping him up, he looked for some way to identify him.

"Ahem," he heard from behind him.

Sherlock Holmes stood there, one eyebrow raised, his hands folded over his chest in an almost impatient and irritable manner.

"What do you want, Holmes? He's gotten away from his parents and I'm trying to make sure he gets back to them, wherever they are. Not that you'd understand.

"Actually, that's mine," Sherlock said, indicating the baby.

Upon hearing his voice, the child twisted in Anderson's grip so that he could see the speaker. When he finally got to a manageable angle, he grinned, reached toward the detective, and said: "Daddy!"

Sherlock grinned in turn, and took the child from Anderson, who was looking dumbstruck. "He didn't get away from me, I knew exactly where he was."

Still struggling to get over the fact that Freak had gotten some unfortunate woman pregnant, Anderson sneered. "Oh, yeah he was totally safe. You turned him loose in a police station."

"Yes, a place filled with officers who would have kept them safe should something have happened."

Having no reply to this Anderson simply said: "There's no way he's your kid. Who in God's name would sleep with you? Where is his mother anyway? Is she in an asylum?"

"Quite the opposite, she's in the office with Lestrade. She found several errors in your work by the way."

"Mama!" said the two year old who up until this point had been content in sucking his fingers and snuggling into his father's chest.

"Hello, love. Mummy's all finished with work now," said a frankly stunning woman coming out of Lestrade's office. She had the voice and words of a kind mother but not the appearance of one. In fact, Anderson thought with disbelief, she looked like someone he would go after. Someone who was most likely amazing and wild in bed.

"Oh she is." Sherlock said, intruding on his thoughts.

The woman must have guessed what they were talking about because she winked and touched Sherlock's arm lightly. "Thank you, dear." She said flirtatiously. She took the boy from him and then looked at Anderson, then back at Sherlock with a questioning eyebrow.

"Anderson." Sherlock said simply, vaguely gesturing toward the other man.

"Ah. I'm Irene and this is Nero," she said, indicating the young boy. "Don't let me have to come down here and do your work for you again. It's quite embarrassing for you."

And with that, she strode off down the hall, child in hand. Sherlock smirked at him before following her to the doors.

So, reviews? Yes or no? Like or hate? It was kind of fun to write this, so I think I'll continue. Still, reviews are good! Please leave one