Chapter Text
Ten years have come and gone. Ten years, one month and five days have past since John and Sherlock first met that afternoon at Bart's many years ago.
The pair have gone through so much in such a short span of time. Of going off and solving cases together, the arrival of the villainous Moriarty which ended with the separation of the two friends for two long years.
In that time John had met the, Miss Mary Morstan and fell in love. On the night of attempting to propose none other than the presumably dead, Sherlock Holmes returns, it goes without saying that John didn't take it very well. But as the saying goes 'the show must go on,' as John in the end manages to propose and later marry, Mary with Sherlock as best man for who else could fill the position? And of course secrets never stay secret for long.
Those secrets revealing that, Mary was not who she claimed to be once Sherlock had pieced together through his and John's encounter with, Charles Augustus Magnussen. A business man in news that had 'the dirt' on everyone, including Mary. He was truly a pain in the arse that is until Sherlock put a bullet through his brain.
Problem solved.
After all that mess was done with John and Mary try to continue on, but once the truth is revealed it's hard to go back to believing the lie and thus ended the short marriage of Mr. and Mrs. Watson.
Sherlock was there to clean up the mess and revive the duo of the past of solving crimes, just the two of them against the rest of the world.
Anyone with eyes could have seen that they soon became more than just "flatmates," or "friends".
Which catches us up to present day....
"Only you would manage to turn our anniversary holiday into a crime scence. How do you always manage to find a case even in the most remote parts of England?"
John walks into the flat in a huff setting his luggage aside to put away for later, with Sherlock right behind him removing both his signiture coat and scarf.
"Oh, come now. Don't act like you didn't enjoy it, you were even telling me how brilliant I was, and later showed me." The tall, dark haired brunette replies with a lewd expression. Watching with fascination at the lovely shade of blush dusting John's cheeks.
"Well how do you expect me to react? You were showing off, as usual, and you know how that affects me." John mumbles while looking away shyly out of embarresment, shuffling on his feet.
Sherlock, who just loves to toy with his blogger, goes to wrap him in his arms, "I do indeed know how it affects you, which is why I did so." Sherlock whispers seductively into John's ear sending shivers down the shorter man's spine.
"And it was so obvious, who would give their pen, a family heirloom I might add, to an author with a horrid habit of chewing on the ends," nibbling at the end of John's ear to emphasize his point, "unless it was coated with posion?"
The stout blonde's knees were beginning to give out on him causing him to hold onto Sherlock and his breathing becoming erratic from arousal.
"Yes, hah... y-you've already explained to me and the officers present already." John was having a little trouble focusing as Sherlock moved from his ear downward toward his neck, knowing exactly where John's sensitive spots were.
Since both were distracted, they failed to notice the new presence that had entered the living area.
John chooses that moment to open his half lidded eyes to see that there was now a small child in front of them that was rubbing the sleep out of its own eyes. Such an odd appearance causes the good Doctor to stiffen in Sherlock's embrace out of sheer shock and the ever observant consulting detective notices the small change. But before he can ask John what's the matter, said man speaks.
"Who the bloody hell are you?" The soldier uses his trained muscles to push Sherlock off of him from surprise of their uninvited guest. As a result the light shove causes the consulting detective to fall like a tree over the misplaced suitcases from their holiday.
The new angle provides Sherlock a look at the child (although upside down) taking in its features.
Starting from the mass of dark curls on the small head which strangely enough did not have the same roundness as other children did. Sharp, high cheek bones on a thin and rectangular shaped head. Eyes that were a unique mix of blue, green, and specks of gold which were sharp and held a level of awareness and intelligence a small child shouldn't be able to posses. In the middle of that angular face was a small nose and under that rested a pair of uneven lips, the top one being much thinner than the plump bottom.
It was from these lips that a single word was spoken.
"Evening."
Detective and child continue to not break eye contact as it seems to be the child's turn to take in all of Sherlock.
"How'd you get in here?" John asks after being snapped out of his daze as if he were under a spell and the young child had spoken the magic word to release him. "Can you tell us your name and where you came from, do you need help?" Putting on a professional face thinking that they may have a new client since they get a variety.
The child looks up to face the curious doctor who seeks answers to the sudden mystery in their flat.
What John sees cause him to forget to breathe for a moment and his mind to go blank. Then a floodgate opens and a river of questions flood into his mind so quickly that he can't focus on any single one. But one thought repeats itself...
This child looks eriely familiar.
"My child obviously." Sherlock being the thick git that he is doesn't notice why John has suddenly become so quiet but continues with his deductions, "The same hair, eyes, and face; a perfect clone of myself. Though an actual clone of myself is minimal but highly unlikely, I would have to say you were created naturally. And since I've only ever slept with one woman, you are no doubt the result of my one night with Irene Adler."
However lost John is at the moment he does find his voice again to ask a ridiculously obvious question, "The Woman? I thought she died years ago?"
Sadly he goes ignored as parent and child size each other up for the first time. Both looking more like a pair of street dogs circling around each other to see if the other will bite first.
It seems like junior will take the first nibble.
"Glad to see she wasn't exaggerating about you. Nice to finally meet you, I'm Max." A small hand is extended to shake the twos hands.
Having no idea what else to do in a situation, who would really? Both John and Sherlock give a single firm shake to the young lad.
"Now that the pleasantries are done..." A replica of eyes look into the original, "do you know why I am here?"
"Of course."
John is glad that someone is finally going to answer his first question as he turns to Sherlock since he always has the answers.
"Irene Adler is dead."