This will be a series of one-shots, as I honestly don't know how else to proceed with it. It was just a plotbunny that wouldn't leave me alone, and I don't have any idea how to go about writing it other than vignettes. If I get something wrong, please let me know. Nicholas is born with Schwartz-Jampel Syndrome, which is very, very rare.

"He just wants to be like you," Molly said softly.

"Well he can't, Molly." Sherlock looked at his wife steadily, the hurt just as much in his eyes as it was in hers. The room was still. They could hear down the hall Nicholas snoring softly. "We cannot keep fooling ourselves into thinking he will ever have a normal life, or that any of this will change. It isn't fair to him or us." Blinking back tears, she fell against him, and with a heaving sob, she began to weep. He brought his arms about her, soothing circles onto her back. "Physio will help, as will a walking stand for around the house. We'll get a wheel chair for trips to the shops and when he has to go to school. There is no reason why he won't be able to manage perfectly well."

"He hates people staring at him," she said quietly. "He hates going out."

"I know."

"He's just like you. Exactly like you. He's got to have a reason." His hold on her tightened, squeezing just a moment, before resting his head against her's with a sigh.

"I know."