A/N: I'm just about to finish one project so I just HAD TO unleash this new one that's been sitting in the back of my head for quite a while. (grins) This whole consept just tastes juicy to me. Perhaps I'm not the only one…?

DISCLAIMER: (insert LOUD laughing) Are you freaking kidding me?! If only I was so lucky…! But NOPE, me owns nothing. And absolutely no profit is made out of typing this. I'll have to continue feeding my bank account otherwise…

WARNINGS: CROSSOVER. VERY adult themes. Mentions of child abuse and heavily implied mental illness. Language. Potentially a hint of gore in the future. General weirdess, which is to be expected, since this is my story…

Awkay, I think I've been stalling long enough. Soooo… Let's go! I really hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

The Case of Three Brothers


There were a lot of days when social worker Samantha Jackson, a thirty-three year old who appeared much older with her wrinkles, didn't enjoy her job. When the constant stigma of a bad guy was almost too painful to bear. Today was one of them. She took a deep breath as the elevator climbed upwards, taking a look at the file in her hands.

Just hours earlier a doctor contacted her, concerned over a child's suspicious injuries. As soon as she began to scroll through all the information Samantha found herself sharing those worries. The Reid family became her client.

The mother, Diana Reid, was only sixteen when she had her first child, Charles Mycroft Howard, now seven years old, soon eight. The first signs of her schizophrenia showed themselves during her pregnancy. Since then they'd become a lot stronger, landing her to involuntary treatment twice and forcing her on medication. Medication which she skipped during her second pregnancy. Her younger son, William Sherlock Scott, was now three years old. As of lately Diana's symptoms had become far more aggressive. Hallucinations, commanding voices, delusions, paranoia… Diana's husband and the father of the boys, William Reid, was in the picture. But he had busy work schedules and he couldn't monitor what was going on in his house constantly. Which, evidently, was a lot. Diana's psychiatrist was the first one to grow alarmed. Another doctor joined soon after.

The first time Charles ended up to a hospital he was three years old. A broken wrist, sustained from one of his adventures. Innocent enough for an active child. The second time came when he was five. The third and fourth followed at the age of six. And then came number five, just today. So far Diana had been able to explain away the injuries, to others and most importantly to herself. But this time there were other bruises. And what really set the wheels turning was that for the first time little William had bruises, too.

Samantha sighed heavily and put the file away, feeling sick to her stomach. Two very loving, devoted parents. But one of them was just too sick to take care of their sons. The injustice of it all made her want to scream.

A few moments later she was escorted towards a hospital room. The nurse showing her the way, a kind faced woman in her late fifties, looked like she'd been crying. "Their mom… She became hysterical when we kept her from seeing them. We had to sedate her. Their father is in too much shock to talk about or decide anything."

Samantha gritted her teeth. Hard. "The boys?"

The nurse sighed. "They're about as okay as anyone in their situation can be. William's too young to really understand what's happening. Charles… Honestly, I don't know how he's taking it all. He's barely talked to any of us."

Samantha inhaled deeply. It hurt far more than it should've. "Let's see if I can make him any more vocal." With a nod of 'thank you' she entered the room. And stilled.

Both of the boys occupied the bed. Obviously they'd refused to be torn apart. The younger one, William was sound asleep, curled up with one of his tiny hands clutching Charles' nearly desperately. Tear streaks were visible on the child's cheeks. The bruise nearby his eye stood out much more sharply.

The older boy wasn't sleeping. It was easy to tell that he'd been crying, too, but at the moment his eyes were sharp and dry upon measuring her up from head to toe. The expression on his face shouldn't have belonged to a child. It looked almost more out of place than the cast on his left arm. "We won't get to go home, will we?" It was a statement rather than a question.

Samantha shook her head, letting all the sadness inside her show. He needed to know that she wasn't doing this just because she wanted to be cruel. "I'm sorry, Charles. But I don't know. My colleagues and I… We need to think about what's best for you and your brother."

"She didn't mean to hurt me." Charles' eyes were unreadable while he focused on his brother, guarding the younger one's sleep. All of a sudden the boy looked incredibly tired. "Or Will. I should've done a better job at protecting him."

"It's not your job to keep your brother safe. It's parents who protect children", Samantha pointed out. Barely managing to keep her voice from breaking.

Charles seemed to consider those words for a moment. Then, out of the blue, sheer terror appeared to the older child's eyes. They turned quickly towards her. "Will… He won't be sent to a different family, right? He… He's just a baby. He wouldn't understand it." The boy swallowed convulsively, visibly panicked. "And… He's afraid of the dark. He can't sleep without a night lamp on. He's scared of spiders, too. The new family… They wouldn't know stuff like that. I need to go with him."

Samantha gulped, too. It was impossible to swallow down the lump in her throat. "This must all be scary. But I promise that everything will be alright, one day." In full honesty she wasn't sure how much she'd be able to do. But he was losing his home and his parents and she had to give him something.

His eyes, however, told her that he didn't believe her and that it'd take a very long time before he'd believe in someone again.

The sun was shining painfully brightly on the day the brothers were dragged from the life that they used to know. Pulled violently into a life and place that they had no idea of. "Where's mommy?" the younger one kept asking. Understandably scared and confused. Far too young for any of this. Tears shone in the boy's eyes when they met his brother's. "Charlie, where's mommy? I wanna go home."

Charles wasn't crying anymore. The child's face appeared almost stoned as he squeezed his brother's hand, determinedly looking away from both the younger child and the adults escorting them. "We'll never see home again. There's no use in crying."

It should've been a good thing. Two children were taken towards a better, safer life. They'd never be harmed by their mother again, physically or emotionally. Still no one present felt like it was a victory when the younger brother began to cry even harder and the older one seemed to linger in a world of his own.

Time passed by, as it inevitably does. It was raining on the Wednesday afternoon Jessica Kingston from the adoption services met a couple in London. Despite the weather the couple's spirits were beyond high. After a torturously long wait and so many disappointments…

"So?" the wife urged. Her gentle eyes were sparkling. "You said that you had news."

Jessica nodded. "Yes. We… may have a little boy who just might be your son. But… there's something I'd like to discuss with you."

The couple tensed up. Clearly preparing for the worst, yet again. "What is it?" the husband was brave enough to breathe out.

"Mr. and Mrs. Holmes… That boy I'm planning on introducing you to has a very special background with a mentally ill, occasionally violent mother. The abuse, especially the emotional kind, and the forced separation still affect him. He has quite the temper." There was a pause. "And… The boy also has a big brother." Jessica's eyes went from the husband to wife and back again. "I undersand perfectly if this sounds like too much for you."

For a mighty while the couple stared at her with very much open stun. They then looked at each other. Their hands, which had been joined the entire time, tightened still. Tears were running down the wife's face and the husband didn't seem far behind as they began to chuckle simultaneously. The husband wiped at his eyes when looking back at her. "We… We've always wanted several children. We never imagined…" He trailed off.

The wife, her tears mostly dried, offered him a small smile. She then looked at her, her eyes sparkling even brighter than before. "And we made it clear from the start that we're not afraid of challenge. So… What are their names?"

"Sherlock and Mycroft Reid."


A/N: Poor boys! (sniffles) But at least they'll have a pair of loving adoptive. And we all know that there'll be a brother number three! We'll see what happens when they all meet.

Sooooo… Any good, at all? It's always a bit scary to start out a new story so it'd mean a lot to hear from you.

In any case, thank you so much for reading! And who knows, maybe I'll see ya again one day.

Take care!