Hey there!!! I listened to Saint Motel, they are awesome!! i heard Dear Dictator. i was wondering if you could make some adlock or parentlock with Nero having a nightmare or something? or is it too silly?? Thanks :3 Get better dear *Sends hugs*
Sherlock opened his eyes suddenly.
He had been sleeping a moment before, but now… Now he wasn’t, and it was in response to something - it was a reaction. But to what? He furrowed his forehead and stared up at the ceiling trying to clear the fog from his mind, trying to focus. What had woken him up–
Sherlock was up and out of his bed the next second. He wrapped his dressing gown quickly about his body, was out of his room, down the hallway, and up the stairs to the bedroom at the top of the flat all in less than a minute.
“Daddy, help!” the small boy in the bed at the other side of the room cried in a small voice.
Sherlock threw the light on and rushed to his son’s side.
“Shhh…” he said, running his hand soothingly through the boy’s hair. “It’s all right. I’m here. Wake up… I’m here.”
And suddenly terrified blue eyes were locked on to Sherlock’s face, and then the trembling boy was in his arms. Sherlock pressed his hand to the back of the boy’s head - tight, dark curls soft against his palm.
“It was mummy!” the boy cried.
Sherlock closed his eyes at the painful tightening of his chest as a cold hand seemed to grip at his heart.
“Shhh…” he repeated. “I’m here now, my love.”
My love.
It was what Irene had called the boy… He had never featured himself doing the same, but now the words came naturally. And why shouldn’t they? This boy, Nero Adler, was the love of his life in the truest sense of the phrase. Now, as he held the frightened child as though for dear life, he couldn’t imagine that the phrase could ever have meant anything else. Indeed, he knew now that he must have been born to love his son.
“I miss my mum…” Nero cried softly in to his father’s neck.
Sherlock swallowed.
“I miss her, too.” he responded, and his voice cracked on the last word, his eyes beginning to sting. “But we’re still her boys, aren’t we?”
Nero said nothing, but nodded after a moment.
Sherlock pulled away from him so that he could look him in the eyes.
“And if we’re still her boys, she can’t really be gone, right?”
The boy wiped his eyes, and then nodded again before settling back against his pillow.
“A woman like your mother leaves a mark on the world so indelible that she becomes a permanent fixture. Your mother is forever. Your mother is… always.”
And Nero nodded again. Sherlock smiled softly.
“Did you know that your mum drugged me the very first time we met?” he asked.
The boy’s eyes and features lit up with glee, even as the tears were still drying on his cheeks.
“She did?” he exclaimed cheerfully.
Sherlock nodded his head exaggeratedly.
“I was off my my mind for at least half a day. Your uncle Greg still has a video of it… he reminds me of it any time I get on his nerves.”
“You get on his nerves a lot…”
“That must be why he’s always reminding me of the video, then.”
Nero giggled.
“Why did she drug you?”
“Your uncle John might say it was because I’m a co–” he cut himself off as his son listened to him intently. “Well, it doesn’t matter what uncle John would say. I took something from her that she wanted back, and she had asked nicely once already.”
Nero smiled.
“She was so brave. Like Rosie’s mum.”
“Mary?”
“Uncle John talks about her all the time. She sounds like mum.”
Sherlock laughed shortly.
“Yes, I suppose she does,” he responded thoughtfully. “They would have been great friends.”
… Or enemies,his mind added pragmatically.
“Or enemies.” Nero said.
Sherlock laughed for a few moments, and then took a deep breath.
“You said ‘it was mummy’ in your dream,” he started gently. “Do you want to talk about what you were dreaming of?”
Nero’s eyes became far away and he was silent for a long few seconds before responding.
“She was saying goodbye.” he nearly whispered, and then sharpened his gaze on his father. “I was afraid to let her go… but then you woke me up, and I remembered that I don’t have to let her go.”
Sherlock felt a deep swell of pride for Irene Adler’s son. Their son.
“Anyone ever tell you that you’re a clever boy?”
“They don’t have to say it for me to know it.” the boy responded almost flippantly, and then settled deeper in to his pillow, closing his eyes. “But yes.”
Sherlock laughed.
“I love you, daddy.” he went on sleepily.
Sherlock swallowed.
“I love you.” he said, before standing and going to the bedroom door. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, daddy.”
Sherlock turned the light off, and headed back to his room.
