Sherlock's Second Vow [FINISHED]

Chapter 5: Ambulance

AAAAH I tried to write from Sherlock's POV I hope it's written okay. :) More on the way soon, just have to edit it.

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5

Sherlock followed her into the principal's office. Not often in his line of work did he get to see the inside of a school. It looked like nothing had changed-- everyone still hated him. He didn't care. Sherlock didn't need anybody to like him.

Really, he didn't.

Luckily there were two chairs across from the principal's desk. He helped himself to a lollipop from her desk and sat, tucking his feet under himself.

Principal: Melinda Lyle; 30-40 years old, though the faint graying of her hair tilted it toward the latter; rubbing her middle finger where a ring used to be-- not cheating, she wouldn't make it so obvious in the workplace. Divorced; likes dogs; no children. She obviously wanted him gone, the way she was glaring at him.

Sherlock crunched loudly on the candy.

"Rosie," Ms. Lyle said, "why is this man here?"

"Career day."

"And--and who is he?" She knew, or thought she knew. The bridge of her nose crinkled as she studied him.

"You recognize me," he said.

"He's my Uncle Sherlock."

Uncle. Every time she referred to him as such he felt a small shiver run down his spine. Family he didn't hate, how strange. "I'm her Uncle Sherlock."

Ms. Lyle looked down her nose at him, her glasses sliding forward a fraction of an inch. The way they reflected her eyes told him she was nearsighted. "Did Uncle Sherlock sign the permission slip from last week?"

"No," Rosie said. She was sitting the same way as he. Now that he could see it, he adjusted himself to sit in the normal way. Although it felt safer, curling into yourself suggested fear. Submissiveness.

"And why not?" Ms. Lyle asked.

Sherlock flicked the lollipop stick into the trash. It was nearly full and it was only morning-- she hadn't emptied it. Too busy with other things. Big event? He disregarded the information. It wasn't important.

"Why should I have to? We're family, after all."

Family. Being part of John's little family felt different than his own. And try as he might, he still couldn't figure out why. He and John got into fights just like he and Mycroft had. No one was ever particularly mean to him in either home.

Sherlock remembered his vow. How had sentiment crept up on him so easily? Why hadn't he gotten rid of it yet? Why didn't he want to?

"Are you... actually family?"

"What do you mean actual family? He's my Uncle."

Mrs. Lyle shook her head. "Are you two biologically related?"

Sherlock snorted. "No, of course not." Even if he had lied, she would have been able to tell. He looked nothing like John Watson.

"He and my Daddy are best friends."

"That's not the same as family. I'm going to call your father, and sir? Please wait outside."

Rosie frowned. She curled a little tighter into herself. She was afraid, she wanted him here.

"I don't see why that's necessary," he said.

"It's okay, Uncle Sherlock."

The rules were important to her? Usually they weren't. No, she wanted the principal's respect, acceptance. That wouldn't end well for her. Ms. Lyle had pictures and art signed by former students on her walls, smiling straight-A students, loud and laughing. She was used to a different kind of kid than Rosie.

Before he left, she squeezed her shoulder again. She, like John, valued physical intimacy. That would change when the people who came close to her began to hurt her. But for now, it seemed to make her feel better.

***

Ms. Lyle held the phone to her ear with one shoulder, busy taking notes. By reading upside down, Rosie could tell she'd copied down everything they'd said.

"Yes, your daughter had an incident today involving a man she refers to as Uncle Sherlock. He broke into her classroom and scared the kids."

She could hear him sigh from the other end of the line, and Ms. Lyle rolled her eyes. She was a no-nonsense sort of woman.

"He is family!" Rosie insisted. If they would only listen, they would understand. "Don't you have family?"

Ms. Lyle dropped the receiver into its place. "That man should be in the hospital."

They wanted to take him away? "But he's clean!"

"What? No, I mean the mental hospital." When she saw the alarm on Rosie's face, she added, "They would take care of him there."

"If he goes away Daddy will be sad again."

"Mr. Watson isn't responsible for Mr. Holmes. I'm going to call the hospital, and they're going to help him. It's not safe for you to be around him."

"But Daddy drinks the grown up stuff when he goes away."

"That's-- Daddy will have to work on that on his own. The hospital will be here shortly to pick him up."

At the sound of alarms, Rosie snapped her head toward the window. She peered through the blinds and her heart sank. An ambulance.

Sherlock poked his head in. His eye darted around the room, from Ms. Lyle to the phone, to Rosie, to the window. "What's going on?" he asked.

She knew he already knew.

"Mr Holmes? We need you to come with us." Three nurses in blue uniforms. A stretcher.

But he's not hurt! Oh... It's to restrain him. They think he's dangerous.

His mouth pinched. "I'm not going to the hospital. I'm perfectly fine."

Ms. Lyle pushed Rosie gently but firmly from the doorway. "After this, wouldn't Mr. Watson feel safer with you getting some treatment?"

Sherlock furrowed his brows. "I don't need it." But he let them take his wrists and guide him to the stretcher, let them tie him down and roll him out the door and away. Just before he passed out of sight, he gave Rosie an odd sort of look. He was trying to tell her something, but she was still reeling.

He had gone with them because they had mentioned her father. He had gone for John. For Daddy. Daddy made him want to go away.