A/N: I`m sorry that took so long! We have testing in our school, and I`m starting a new story, too, so I`ve been really busy lately! All you Junior High kids complaining about too much homework, enjoy it while you can!

Also, I`ve realized my terrible mistake: I am now aware that Harry and Clara were meant to be together. I just learned this and I am so sorry! I now understand completely why I lost a follower.

I`ve just learned of the existance of disclaimers, so I`m going to add one of those now. Ready? 'Kay? Gonna do it... Now!

Disclaimer: I don`t own Sherlock, John, or Harry. They belong to the Holy Ones, Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat. Praise be unto them. *bows*


Miles away from the school, deep in the mansion of the Prime Minister, Gabriel Moriarty`s phone buzzed with an incoming message.

Run.


Hamish Watson tramped through the doors of the flat weary, but nonetheless pleased with himself. He fingered the gun in his coat pocket as he waited for Sherlock to join him inside. "Who is it?!" screeched Ms. Rill.

"It`s just me, Ms. Rill," Hamish shouted back.

"I don`t know who 'me' is!"

"Stop shouting! It`s Sherlock and Hamish, Ms. Rill!" called his father from upstairs before Hamish could respond.

"Oh... Okay! That`s fine, then." Her voice trailed off as she slipped back into sleep. Hamish gazed down into the basement, hands in his pockets, wondering if Ms. Rill was the only one in the basement. There was certainly more noise and thumping around the flat than usual, but it came from upstairs. The curiousity was killing him, but he chose to wait for Sherlock.

The tall man strode through the door shortly afterwards, imploring more shouting between Ms. Rill and Sherlock before John`s yelling-explanations shut them both up. "That was bloody tedious," Sherlock grumbled as he took the stairs two at a time. "Next time someone says 'It can`t have been an accident', they`re getting thrown out of a window."

Hamish nodded. In the depths of Sherlock`s boredom, the three occupants of the flat had interviewed what must`ve been a thousand cases deemed 'too boring' for the fidgety detective. Finally they had accepted a case from a elderly woman convinced that her husband`s death was no accident, though the husband proved to be an uninteresting old man who had never learned to swim.

Suddenly something crashed to the floor in the flat atop the stairs.

"Dad, who`s that upstairs?!" Hamish shouted from the bottom of the steps.

"Well, come up and see!"

"Oh, God..." muttered Sherlock. "This can`t be good."

The unrecognizable noises turned into screams and shouts as Sherlock and Hamish reached the top of the stairs. Before either of them could open the door, it swung open from the other side to reveal two little girls and a boy, and an older woman behind them. The girls squealed, every one of them, while the boy pressed himself to the door in a feeble attempt to avoid getting trampled as they rushed out. The older woman hugged Hamish tightly, which, growing up with two men, Hamish had come to hate. He pushed away, though she didn`t seem to notice. "Hamy! Oh, it`s been so long! I`ve missed you!" she said, holding his hands in hers.

"Uhm..."

"Hamish? Don`t you remember? It`s me, Aunt Harry!"

"Oh, right... Aunt Harry..." Faint recognition came to his mind, a memory of a woman he had last seen at the house sobbing about her drinking problem (he could see by her bony fingers and the slight tremor in her hands that it had been quite a big problem, at that) and the second baby on the way... This could not be Aunt Harry.

"Well, it`s... um, it`s good to see you," he said finally.

"And of course you remember Thomas-say hi, Tommy!"

Thomas, a dark haired boy around the age of fifteen, strode over to Hamish and held out a hand for him to shake. As their hands locked, he pulled him into an awkward hug. "If you call me anything by Tom, I swear I will hurt you," Thomas-Tom-muttered in his ear, squeezing the younger boy`s hand until it was numb. Tom stepped back from the hug, leaving Hamish nursing his hand.

"And I Annie! I Annie!" said the littlest girl. "I your cousin! That`s what Mommy was saying!"

"I`m," corrected Sherlock, who had been watching the display of affection with cold, disgusted eyes.

"I`m Samantha," said the girl about Hamish`s age. She gave him a brisk hand shake. "It`s nice to meet you."

"Uh, right... Um, Dad?" Hamish called, pushing past his relatives.

"Oh, hey, Hamish!" said John cheerfully as he typed away on the sofa.

"Dad, why are they here?!" he whispered harshly, leaning in so he wouldn`t be heard.

"They`re here because they`re family, Hamish," he said sweetly, then added in a low whisper, "And because I told you not to sneak off with Sherlock yesterday night! I had to call to tell your school that you were sick!"

"So? It`s school. It`s boring."

"Well, since you have some free time, why don`t you go outside and play with your cousins while me and Aunt Harry catch up."

"Dad!" Hamish whined.

"Bye bye!" John gave a tiny wave.

Hamish snatched his jacket from the couch. "Fine!" he hissed and stormed from the flat.


"Ooh! Candy! Candy!" Annie squealed, jumping up and down as she saw the sign on the side of the road. They were about four blocks from the flat, searching in the nearby shops and boutiques on Samantha`s suggestion for something to do. Tom was entirely into it, watching the girls in the stores with hungry eyes.

"A candy store?" groaned Hamish. It wasn`t that he hated candy-he actually loved it-but he recognized the cashier behind the counter as one that did not exactly favor him...

"We don`t have to go if you don`t want," Samantha offered.

"What?" Hamish snapped out of his thoughts. "Oh, right. No, it`s fine. Why don`t you guys meet me back here in, like, thirty minutes?"

"Okay!" squeaked Annie, then raced into the shop. Samantha ambled after her, feeling in her coat pockets for money.

"Aren`t you going?"

"No," scoffed Tom. "Candy stores are for babies."

"Oh. Well, meet in half an hour, then."

"Whatever."

At least I tried. Hamish gave a mental shrug.

Christ, this was boring. Dragging around three chatty kids he`d never met before... It was worse than a grounding. He wandered around London alone for the next twenty minutes, sifting through the book shop for about half of that time, before finally returning to the candy store and all but collapsing on the bench. As people passed by him, he attempted to 'deduce' them as Sherlock had taught him, but could only come up with a few things that he wasn`t even sure were right. Ignoring everything Sherlock had taught him, he instead focused on the body language, a practice that came much easier to him.

Late for a meeting, just broke up with girlfriend, having a fancy dinner parents-in-law. Hamish ticked off aspects of people`s current lives in his head as they passed. As he searched for someone else to 'read', he noticed a boy and girl talking, flirting, by the look of it, from the corner of his eye. The boy was familiar to him, and he shifted his focus to the boy and girl interestedly. He smiled, watching his dark-haired cousin fail miserably at his attempt to talk to the pretty blonde girl. Even from the opposite side of the street, Hamish could see from the shifting of Tom`s feet that he was having a bit of trouble charming her. Meanwhile, the girl smiled and laughed as though she was enjoying his company, though clearly she wasn`t. By her stance and the noticeble fidgeting of her fingers by her skirt pocket where her cellphone lay, stubbournly refusing to ring, she was only trying to make her nearby ex-boyfriend jealous. Hamish looked around, quickly locating the tall boy staring at the two, his face red with rage.

Hamish hated Tom, really, but the least he could do was help him before he got his a** kicked. "Tom!" he called. Tom tensed slightly, but pretended not to hear his name. Hamish rolled his eyes and, looking both ways, raced across the street. "Tom," he tried again, catching up to him.

Tom`s jaw clenched, then slackened. "Who are you?" he questioned his cousin.

"Seriously? Whatever. I just wanted to tell you that even if you try she`s not going to go out with you because she`s just trying to make her ex over there jealous."

"What?!" she gasped.

"Why, you little-"

"And if you don`t lay off he`s probably going to beat you into a pulp."

"I`m going to-"

"Just saying..."

He was growling, like some overly-expressive cartoon character. The girl`s face was bright red, and she finally flipped her hair out of her face and walked away with a 'humph'! "Wait, Natasha!"

She pretended not to hear Tom`s desperate pleas as she disappeared into the crowd. Tom turned slowly to Hamish.

"You lost me that girl, Hamish..." he growled. Before the thirteen year old boy could protest, Tom pointed a finger at his chest and yelled, "You LOST me that GIRL!"

Hamish gave a yelp as he avoided the outstretched hands of his cousin and fled. "Come here, you!" Tom roared.

Hamish raced across the road and past his two younger cousins as they came out of the candy shop. "Hamish?"

Samantha cried before Tom pushed past her.

Hamish weaved through the crowds, thankful for his own speed, though he saw a busy road approaching in front of him. There was no way to avoid it, so he turned into a nearby alleyway. He ran to the farthest, darkest end and stood there panting, praying that he`d lost Tom. Please, please, please,

"Hamy!" called a sing-song voice. Crap.

Tom`s wild eyes appeared around the edge of the alley, glinting with malice. Hamish bit his lip as he neared, suddenly noticing the bulging muscles beneath his jacket. "All day," Tom growled. "All day, I have been looking for some ***king amusement around this dumb city-just something to do for the next three weeks that I`m stuck here. I found something, and you scared it away. You scared it away, you little s***!"

He grabbed Hamish by the collar of his jacket and jerked him up into the air. Hamish held on to Tom`s hand, trying to keep himself from being choked by his own clothing. "Let`s me go! I`ll-"

"You`ll what? You`ll hit me? You`ll tell your daddy?" Tom mocked him. Hamish held back tears as dark spots danced in his vision. He was completely helpless in the ever-tightening hands of an adrenaline fueled teenager. Wait, he realized. Not completely helpless.

He giggled through Tom`s grip. "What`s so funny?!" Tom raged. "What`s so funny?!" Tom shook him, but Hamish kept the almost crazed smile on his face as he took his own hands off of Tom`s. He reached into his pocket to feel the cool metal of the gun.

He wouldn`t shoot him, of course. The whole reason he had gotten into this mess was because he was trying to keep the idiot from getting beat up. But he was not averse to adding fear to Tom`s swirl of emotions.

Tom threw Hamish to the ground screaming in sheer terror. Unflinching, Hamish stood and pointed the gun to Tom`s throat watching the sweat break out on his face with relish. He could already feel bruises forming on his neck and shoulder, although Tom p**sing his pants would make up for it entirely, he consoled himself. "I-I could outrun you!" Tom shouted.

"Do you really want to take that chance?" he asked with a smirk. Tom paled. "Now, voice down, hands behind your back, and get on the ground."

Hamish wasn`t exactly sure where he was going with this. In all honesty, he was only hoping that he could keep Tom from movement until he was away from the alley with a good head start. He had just began to back away when he heard the voices. "They ran over this way, Mum, I sawed them." Annie`s voice echoed clearly as she neared the alley way. Hamish had just enough time to jam the gun in his pocket as Aunt Harry, Samantha, Annie, and John appeared at the mouth of the alley. "In there!" John said, spotting them. "What`s going on in here?"

"Mom!" Tom screamed and raced from the shadows. Harry met him half way and got on her knees to hug him.

"What`s wrong Tommy, what`s wrong?" she cooed as he sobbed onto her shoulder.

He babbled incoherantly as he tried to get his emotions under control, meanwhile, John ran to his son. "Hamish? Hamish, what happened here?" he whispered, crouching down to Hamish`s height.

"Thank goodness you came, Tom was-"

"He tried to kill me, that`s what!" Tom screeched finally.

"What?!" John gasped.

"No, Dad, I-"

"Don`t try to deny it! He had a gun! He`s still got it! Feel in his pockets!" Tom blubbered.

"Wait, Dad! It`s-"

It was too late. John`s eyes widened slowly as he pulled the already cocked gun from his eight year old`s pocket. "Hamish..."

"He was going to shoot me! He had it pointed at my neck and-and..."

Harry squeezed him tightly. "Come on, baby, let`s go back to the flat and get you cleaned up," she said, leading him away.

"Dad..."

"I don`t want to hear it, Hamish. This is just... You went too d*** far!" John took a deep breath. "Come on, we`re going back to the flat."


Min had been found over three years ago, living under the bed, and now sat on a desk by the door of the room that Hamish and his father shared (they had separate sides of the room, of course, and two different beds). Hamish watched her with a listless gaze as the moon crossed the sky, hands behind his head, waiting for the low murmur of voices in the living room to cease so he could learn his fate. D*** it, he couldn`t take it anymore. He climbed out of his bed, stepping around the edges of the room so that the floor wouldn`t creak, and pressed his ear to the door.

Sherlock`s low voice was nothing more than a growl as he persisted, "You haven`t even heard his side of the story! You can`t have a one-sided case, it just doesn`t get the right results!"

"Sherlock, I don`t care what his story is! He had a gun in his pocket, and how else would Tom have known about it. You didn`t see that boy! He looked like he`d seen Death! Hamish has to go somewhere with a good influence-not one that trusts him with a freaking loaded gun!"

"John-"

"No. No, he`s got to go. I love him. I can`t let him get hurt... I know where I`m sending him already, Harry suggested it. It`ll be perfect for him, and he can always come back over Christmas and the Summer."

Sherlock was silent, then finally said, "Where?"

"Wilhiem Boarding School. I know it`s a desperate measure, but... it`s the only way he can turn out... right."


A/N: Reviews? Please? Please? Just so you know, we still only have one Favoriter, but I love all of your faces anyway. That`s right, reader. You are a beautiful soul. (I found that written on the wall of a bathroom stall once... awkward...) Anyway, I`ll stop rambling. I`ll have the next one by next week! Sneak peak: John wasn`t the only one with kids in the world of Sherlock...