Sherlock: The Next Generation

Chapter 43

Author's Note

Yet another picture! This time of Martin. Enjoy ;)

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Chapter 43

"We found Moran," Sherlock swept into the main dining room of Mycroft and Greg's house, a deep smirk on his lips. John rolled his eyes as he followed him in.

"Really?!" Hamish shot up, instantly ignoring the food that was in front of him. He and Molly now often went over to stay with Mycroft after school. Whenever Sherlock was on a case. Mycroft was not at all pleased, but obliged. Hamish and Martin's fourteenth birthday had come and gone, no longer being the event it once had (the lack of Martin dictating that). It was mid spring, Hamish's GSCE exams fast approaching. Not that he was worried.

"Ah, brother, you arrived just in time for dinner," Mycroft smiled. Slightly warmer than it once had been, but still rather emotionless. "Would you care to join us?"

"I have no wish to eat," Sherlock replied stiffly.

"We would love to join you." John shot Sherlock a glare, forcing him to sit down. He served both of them and watched Sherlock intently until he put a bit of food in his mouth. He really was like a child sometimes. John turned his hard stare on Hamish, who had barely touched his place, watching as the boy meekly began to eat. Both Hamish and Sherlock finished their meal, surprisingly. Molly ate a huge amount, as per normal. She really was like in John in the sense that she liked her food.

"Let us leave now," Sherlock was up as soon as he was finished, quickly heading out of the door. John apologised about him. Mycroft just replied that he was used to it. John grabbed the kids and headed out after Sherlock.

"You will be going to the trial, Hamish," Sherlock commented, glancing down at his son.

"Cool..." Hamish murmured, tilting his head. "When?"

"Tomorrow."

"You will watch with me," John ruffled Hamish's hair.

"Can I come?" Molly chirped.

"Sure," Sherlock shrugged. John let out a light sigh. Fine, just let their nine year old daughter come along. Then again she had been to many crime scenes.

"Just remember, Sherlock, don't be... Yourself."

The day of the trial dawned, Hamish waking up bright and early. He wasn't sure what to think of the upcoming day. After all he knew that Sebastian Moran was a dangerous criminal but... he was also Mortimer's dad. And if he was jailed Mortimer wouldn't have any dads left. But Hamish knew that it was for the best. He shuddered as he remembered Mortimer's other dad. He was glad he was dead.

"Smart clothes," John came into the room at around eight, already dressed in a suit. Hamish arched an eyebrow.

"I always wear smart clothes."

"Of course, you have your dad's dress sense," John smiled, leaving the room. Hamish quickly got changed quite frankly glad that his papa hadn't tried to get him to wear a tie. He hated ties. Like Sherlock, actually.

The family had a quiet breakfast before heading out. Sherlock and Hamish looked identical, as per normal. Molly was looking smart in a black dress and with her hair tied back in a braid (she had learned how to braid her own hair a few years ago due to the failures her dads were at it). The four of them headed out to get a taxi, the silence remaining. They parted ways upon arrival, Sherlock going to testify while the others went to watch.

The trial went as expected. Sebastian Moran was found guilty of numerous counts of murder, possession of illegal arms, kidnapping and various other crimes. He was sentenced to life in prison. Hamish watched with an emotionless face but inside could not help but pity Mortimer. What a terrible thing to happen.

They met up with Sherlock just afterwards.

"Hamish, I need you to come with me," Sherlock smiled at his son, who arched an eyebrow. Sherlock and John nodded to each other before Sherlock and Hamish walked away. "We're going to see Mortimer and his brother, Samael. I want you to talk to them if possible. Offer them a place with us if they want to take it. We will move house and everything." There was a look of pain on Sherlock's face, a grimace twisting his lips. He obviously did not want to leave 221b. Hamish smiled slightly, a sense of elation rising in his chest. His dad was willing to make that sacrifice to give Mortimer and Samael a proper home.

"Okay," Hamish nodded as Sherlock opened a door and indicated for Hamish to enter. Hamish walked in, the door closing behind him. The room was plain, with nothing more than a table and a few chairs within. Hamish instantly recognised Mortimer and guessed that the hazel eyed boy beside him must be his brother. Hamish cleared his throat, gaining both of their gazes.

"I'm sorry about what happened."

"I'm sure you are," Mortimer replied sarcastically.

"Really, I am. So... I'm here to offer you a place. With my family and stuff. Instead of going into a home. You would be able to go back to school with me and we would see each other more. So yeah... You and your brother." Hamish tugged at his dark curls, suddenly feeling nervous. There was a look in Mortimer's midnight blue eyes that had had never seen before. It... Scared him. It was like the look that had been in James Moriarty's eyes many times during their kidnapping. "What do you think, Mori?"

"What do I think?" Mortimer stood up in a movement, standing in front of his younger brother. "What do I think? I do not think it truly matters. But I will answer that question anyway." His eyes narrowed into pinpoints. "I have no wish to live with you and your family. If you do not recall it was your father who just had my own jailed. It was your other father who shot my other dad. It was your oh so brilliant family that destroyed mine." Hamish remained silent, meeting Mortimer's gaze evenly. "I do not accept your offer. In fact, I never want to see you again, Hamish. Never. Again. It was you who caused this, you and your dads. I hate you all." By these words Mortimer had moved so that he was right in front of Hamish, looking up to him threateningly.

Hamish did not even think. He let a cool look mask his features, looking down at Mortimer coldly. "As you wish. I guess this is goodbye, Mortimer." He swiftly turned to leave.

It seemed that he had just lost his best friend. In more ways than one.