I realize this chapter is horribly short but I need to know and this is an important question that may alter the entire story O.o
Would you prefer Disney style (talking mice and magical fairy godfather) or more of a realistic cinder story (no magic and/or talking mice)?
Once upon a time there was a young boy who loved his mother very much. His name was John Watson and he and his mother lived in a large mansion with lots of land. The land was mostly fields that his father used to breed horses, but not anymore. When John was five, his father died in a terrible horse riding accident.
The mother couldn't bare the loss of his husband but none the less she held herself together for her son. She protected him from anything and everything and the horse breeding was ignored and the business was going downhill. When John turned eight his mother got remarried in order to not loss the business and the mansion they lived in. Her new husband would provide for then and work with the horses. He would be the new breeder.
It was early November and as the leaves fell John's heart rose with happiness. For a long time it had just been him, his mother, and what few servants they had left. The blond boy sat on the porch with his mother waiting for his stepfather and step siblings to arrive.
A car drove down the white gravel driveway past the line of wilting trees on either side of it. John's mother stood along with him as he jumped up and down happily. The car pulled up to them and the driver got out and opened the door. Three people stepped out of the car on by one and the first was John's new stepfather. John's mother walked toward the new man and hugged him, and then she turned to her son.
"Darling, this is your new daddy, Jim Moriarty," She said with a smile. Moriarty looked the little blond boy over. The little one looked much like his mother; blond hair, sparkling eyes, and they were both quite short but then again so was Moriarty. A little girl came out of the car and behind her a little boy; both the same age as John.
"Johnny-boy," Jim said happily. "These are my children; they're eight years old, like you. This is Sally and this is Andy," He said motioning to each child.
"Hi," John said with a smile. The two children standing before him looked at him in disgust. The blond paid no attention, he was just happy for his mum.
Life wasn't much different when Jim and his kids came to live with John and his mother. The only difference was that he saw his mother less than usual which was okay for him because he was allowed more freedom. Sally and Andy refused to play with the blond boy so he spent most of his time playing with a servant girl named Sarah.
Only a month of this new life had passed and John's mother fell sick. He was never told what was wrong but he was told it was terminal. He visited her everyday and so did Jim. Both loved her very much. After two weeks of his mother's sickness he once again visited her.
The room was dim for her eyes had become sensitive to the light. John sat on the side of the bed and took his mother's hand. She smiled up at him lovingly and he smiled back although he really wanted to cry. Jim came in soon after and sat on the other side of the bed. He and John's mother greeted each other with loving expressions. She turned back to John and there was a look in her eye the blond boy did not recognize.
"John," She said in a quiet voice. She put her hand on her son's cheek a wiped a tear away that he had not noticed. "I love you." She smiled and closed her eyes and seconds later he hand fell cold.
"Mummy," John said. "Mummy?" He began to cry and his cries for his mum echoed through the room.
"Darling?" Jim asked as tears ran down his cheeks. He grabbed her hand and it was cold. He felt for a pulse and found none. She was dead. Jim looked over at the crying child and then down at his wife, anger and jealousy flashed through him. His wife's last I love you wasn't directed toward her own husband. She was his wife and in her last breath she chose her son over him.
After that fateful day John's life would never be the same.
Eight years later and John had become a servant in his own house. He was only 16 years old, too young to be able to live on his own. Moriarty and his children forced John to do everything; the cooking, cleaning, laundry, feeding the horses and wait on them hand and foot.
Don't worry, Sherlock is in the next chapter ;)