The Scions of Deduction
Title: The Scions of Deduction
Author:
capt_facepalm
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Characters: John/Sarah, canon characters, original characters
Summary: Set a year and a half after a deadly incident, expectant parents John and Sarah are in for a surprise.
Warnings: Mention of major character death
Word Count: 1950
Author's Notes: Alternate Universe and kid!fic
Previously on The Scions of Deduction...
Scions 101
Scions 102
Scions 103
and now
Scions 104
Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade arrived back at New Scotland Yard just before noon. Over in her corner cubicle by the window, Detective Sergeant Sally Donovan and Forensics Specialist Anderson were absorbed in discussion. Upon noticing Lestrade’s return, Donovan stood and promptly followed him to his office with a thin folder in her hand. She closed the door behind her.
‘Did you know about this?’ she demanded, handing the folder to her boss.
‘John Watson’s military record? What of it?’
‘It makes for fascinating reading. You should have a look.’
‘I’d rather not pry. Why do you have it, anyway?’
‘Karen in Records sent it to me. It was included in his background check. John and Sarah have applied to adopt. Did something happen to the baby?’
Lestrade felt like he had been punched in the stomach. It had been too long since he and John had last spoken.
‘Not that I know of,’ he said, trying to conceal signs of worry.
‘Then why would they be adopting. Something must have happened.’
‘Let’s not speculate. I’ll ring him up.’
Lestrade scanned his mobile’s contact list for John’s number, and selected it, hoping it was current. He gazed at Sally’s concerned face as he waited for someone to pick up the receiver. Finally, after the eighth ring, a familiar voice answered.
‘John? Hi, Greg Lestrade here... Yeah, fine... Everyone’s fine... Ha! Pots and kettles, mate...! Sorry it’s been a while, but is everything okay with you and Sarah...? Good to hear it...! Yeah, well, actually, something strange came up and I got concerned... You’ve filed adoption papers and you need a police reference check... No, it’s not my department, but the Met can be a small family at times... A records clerk brought it to my attention... Only Donovan, and possibly Anderson... Listen, I’m coming over. Are you and Sarah in tonight...? Oh. Well, you and I can watch the match until she gets back... No, I will not bring curry... If it made you ill, Sarah would kill me, that’s why... No, I will not accept a doctor’s note...! John, it’s great to hear you sounding so well. I’ll bring the completed forms with me and you’ll have them for your solicitor tomorrow... Honestly, it’s no trouble. I’ve been meaning to give you a call anyway... See you later... Cheers.’
‘Well?’ asked Donovan.
‘Sarah’s fine. The baby is due in late January. Leave the file with me and I’ll find out the rest tonight.’
‘Thanks,’ Sally smiled and unfolded her arms. ‘Say ‘hello’ for me, won’t you?’
.oOOo.
Sarah’s file held no surprises. She had been practicing family medicine for six years; the past four at the Kensington Surgery. Good grades throughout school, some volunteering, and a history of community service. An only child, she had lost her mother to cancer when she was ten years old. Her father, a retired navy man, never remarried and still lived in Aldershot.
John’s file held nothing out of the ordinary. No trouble with the authorities; not even any sign of the ASBO Lestrade thought he might find. There was a long list of medical qualifications, and as he contemplated them, he wondered how John could be content working in a mundane community surgery. Well, his health might be a factor, or perhaps it was just time to slow down.
Doctor Watson’s military service was something else altogether. The DI knew that John had served with the Royal Army Medical Corps before his medical discharge, but was surprised to see that he had been deployed to some of the worst hellholes imaginable. Various commendations were listed. The details of the injury which ended his military career were not mentioned; only that he was ‘wounded in action’ on a certain date. Other dates were provided for his hospitalisation and eventual discharge.
Lestrade put down the file in wonder. John always seemed so normal and unassuming. No doubt Sherlock had seen past this façade from the start. Why else would the self-professed sociopath bother with a seemingly ordinary man? With Sherlock’s death no one would ever know for sure.
Engrossed in the details of John’s RAMC service, Lestrade had failed to note the passage of time and he was running late. He locked the files in his desk, refilled his mug with coffee of an indeterminate vintage and dashed off for his afternoon meeting.
.oOOo.
Greg Lestrade arrived at the Kensington flat around 1830 and pressed the intercom button in the entryway. John answered and the door-lock disengaged. The lift took him to the fourth floor and there he found John waiting down the corridor to welcome him into the flat.
John looked much better than the last time they met. Now John was no longer confined to his wheelchair and his new, hard-won mobility had done wonders to improve his temperament. Smiling suited him better, and he seemed genuinely glad to see Greg this time. The flat was much as he remembered it. The conversion to open concept and other renovations to enlarge the doors no longer looked out of place.
‘Thanks for coming over. There’s beer in the fridge, or something stronger, if you prefer.’
‘Beer will be fine,’ he replied and helped himself to one of the bottles.
They exchanged small talk while they waited for the match to begin. Sarah was at a prenatal fitness class and was expected back by 2030. Lestrade admired the large screen television and John inquired about work at the Met. As if by mutual agreement, the topic of John’s health did not come up.
Arsenal was down by two when Lestrade headed to the kitchen for another beer. An empty can of protein drink sat by the sink. ‘Don’t tell me that was your supper?’ he asked, waving it at John.
‘I would have preferred curry.’
‘I’ll ignore that. Are these things any good?’
John’s grimace provided the only answer he needed.
Lestrade sat back to watch the match, but his mind kept returning to thoughts about John’s past. He found himself observing the doctor rather than following Arsenal’s lacklustre offence.
After the explosion, the time that John spent on life support had been hard on everyone. Doctors spoke in ominous tones of cascading organ failure and the futility of extending life at any cost. And yet, when John’s sister, Harry, finally won the right to have the machines removed, John’s ravaged lungs resumed the burden of breathing on their own, one unsteady breath after another. A miracle, really, if one believed in such things.
As John became aware of his situation, his morale would have taken a bad turn if not for Sarah’s support. Her encouragement and his gritty tenacity achieved the small victories which comprised his recovery. Months passed, and Sarah and John grew close again but it had not been easy for her. Not all of her friends had been supportive when they, as a couple, had announced their intentions. In fact, she and her father had estranged over the matter. That had to be awkward with a baby on the way.
John’s groan of despair as Arsenal missed another goal brought Lestrade back to the here and now.
‘England versus Wales in February… I might be able to scare up some tickets,’ Lestrade said in order to start some conversation.
‘February might be problematic. I’ll be a dad then… and if the adoption goes through, we’ll have three kids,’ said John.
‘That’s sudden! Not that it’s any of my business--’
‘Sudden? Yeah, you could call it that. This has all come about since yesterday...’
‘Yesterday?’ Lestrade exclaimed indicating that John should elaborate. He could see John weighing in his mind what to say next, and very likely, what not to say.
‘Sarah and I found out that a friend of the family is dying and she wants us to adopt her two kids. There is no other family so we have act fast. A private adoption is less complicated than if they become wards of the Crown.’
‘Two? How old?’
‘Twins. A boy and a girl. They will be six in March.’
‘Their mum is that sick?’
‘Yeah. Cancer. It’s a matter of days now.’
‘That’s rough... What about their father?’
‘Predeceased.’
‘But you, and Sarah? Two kids, and then a new baby?’ Lestrade shook his head in disbelief.
‘I know it’s mad, but Sarah and I have our reasons. Look, I’m not trying to be evasive, but nothing is certain right now. We should probably wait a few days, you know, before we start telling anyone...’
‘Donovan is already asking questions. What should I tell her?’
‘I dunno. “Thanks for your concern, but everything is fine?” No matter what happens, there won’t be all that much to say for at least a week.’
There was something to this that John was not telling him and Lestrade knew better than to push further. John was a likable sort of bloke, but he guarded his privacy closely. Whatever it was would be revealed in good time. It was not worth risking the trust built up over the years to pry. Lestrade handed John the brown envelope.
‘I’ve signed off on this. There’s nothing in your backgrounds to keep you and Sarah from adopting, even if the BAAF gets involved. I’ve even added a personal reference, for what it’s worth.’
‘Really? Cheers, mate! I’ll give it to the solicitors tomorrow morning.’
‘You should know: in the New Year, the Met’s setting up a task force on the illegal trade in prescription drugs. I told the Chief Super that I would ask you on as a medical community liaison. That was before this adoption came up. The job’s yours if you want it.’
‘What would I have to do?’
‘Not much at this point. The committee is just forming. For now, they’re only collecting names on paper. It will be mostly drugs squad, but they want input from the medical community.’
‘Real input, or lip-service?’
‘That would be up to you. I don’t see you letting them push you around. Attend the occasional meeting and work from home the rest of the time. What do you think?’
‘Sounds like charity to me.’
‘No, John, charity pays better,’ Greg laughed. Typical John: suspicious of even the best intentions.
Sarah arrived home just minutes before the match ended. Nothing save a miracle could help Arsenal at that point so John clicked off the television.
‘Greg! What a pleasant surprise!’ Sarah exclaimed as she set down her gym kit and a small bag of groceries.
‘Hullo, Sarah. All right?’
‘Oh yes. Considering,’ she smiled as she rubbed her rounded abdomen. “Baby’s moving more, and I’m moving less. I suppose there’s some sort of balance in that.’
‘Greg expedited the background check. I’ll call Goodwin first thing tomorrow,’ said John.
‘That’s wonderful! Thanks, Greg. Has John told you what’s happening?’
‘Yes,’ Lestrade nodded. As much as he thought I ought to know, he added to himself.
‘You must think we’re all mad here. Won’t you stay for a cuppa? I’ve also bought ice cream.’
Lestrade declined the offer and rose to leave. He wished John and Sarah a good night and implored them to contact him if they needed anything.
As he made his way to the nearby tube station, an uneasy thought had taken root in his mind. Like most of their friends, Lestrade had been sceptical at first when he heard of Sarah’s and John’s plans to marry. He was happy to be proven wrong when John’s health concerns did not stop the couple from being brilliant together, but he felt that suddenly adding three children to their already complicated situation was asking for trouble.
.oOOo.
Next time: we finally get to meet the kids!
Author:
capt_facepalm
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Characters: John/Sarah, canon characters, original characters
Summary: Set a year and a half after a deadly incident, expectant parents John and Sarah are in for a surprise.
Warnings: Mention of major character death
Word Count: 1950
Author's Notes: Alternate Universe and kid!fic
Previously on The Scions of Deduction...
Scions 101
Scions 102
Scions 103
and now
Scions 104
Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade arrived back at New Scotland Yard just before noon. Over in her corner cubicle by the window, Detective Sergeant Sally Donovan and Forensics Specialist Anderson were absorbed in discussion. Upon noticing Lestrade’s return, Donovan stood and promptly followed him to his office with a thin folder in her hand. She closed the door behind her.
‘Did you know about this?’ she demanded, handing the folder to her boss.
‘John Watson’s military record? What of it?’
‘It makes for fascinating reading. You should have a look.’
‘I’d rather not pry. Why do you have it, anyway?’
‘Karen in Records sent it to me. It was included in his background check. John and Sarah have applied to adopt. Did something happen to the baby?’
Lestrade felt like he had been punched in the stomach. It had been too long since he and John had last spoken.
‘Not that I know of,’ he said, trying to conceal signs of worry.
‘Then why would they be adopting. Something must have happened.’
‘Let’s not speculate. I’ll ring him up.’
Lestrade scanned his mobile’s contact list for John’s number, and selected it, hoping it was current. He gazed at Sally’s concerned face as he waited for someone to pick up the receiver. Finally, after the eighth ring, a familiar voice answered.
‘John? Hi, Greg Lestrade here... Yeah, fine... Everyone’s fine... Ha! Pots and kettles, mate...! Sorry it’s been a while, but is everything okay with you and Sarah...? Good to hear it...! Yeah, well, actually, something strange came up and I got concerned... You’ve filed adoption papers and you need a police reference check... No, it’s not my department, but the Met can be a small family at times... A records clerk brought it to my attention... Only Donovan, and possibly Anderson... Listen, I’m coming over. Are you and Sarah in tonight...? Oh. Well, you and I can watch the match until she gets back... No, I will not bring curry... If it made you ill, Sarah would kill me, that’s why... No, I will not accept a doctor’s note...! John, it’s great to hear you sounding so well. I’ll bring the completed forms with me and you’ll have them for your solicitor tomorrow... Honestly, it’s no trouble. I’ve been meaning to give you a call anyway... See you later... Cheers.’
‘Well?’ asked Donovan.
‘Sarah’s fine. The baby is due in late January. Leave the file with me and I’ll find out the rest tonight.’
‘Thanks,’ Sally smiled and unfolded her arms. ‘Say ‘hello’ for me, won’t you?’
.oOOo.
Sarah’s file held no surprises. She had been practicing family medicine for six years; the past four at the Kensington Surgery. Good grades throughout school, some volunteering, and a history of community service. An only child, she had lost her mother to cancer when she was ten years old. Her father, a retired navy man, never remarried and still lived in Aldershot.
John’s file held nothing out of the ordinary. No trouble with the authorities; not even any sign of the ASBO Lestrade thought he might find. There was a long list of medical qualifications, and as he contemplated them, he wondered how John could be content working in a mundane community surgery. Well, his health might be a factor, or perhaps it was just time to slow down.
Doctor Watson’s military service was something else altogether. The DI knew that John had served with the Royal Army Medical Corps before his medical discharge, but was surprised to see that he had been deployed to some of the worst hellholes imaginable. Various commendations were listed. The details of the injury which ended his military career were not mentioned; only that he was ‘wounded in action’ on a certain date. Other dates were provided for his hospitalisation and eventual discharge.
Lestrade put down the file in wonder. John always seemed so normal and unassuming. No doubt Sherlock had seen past this façade from the start. Why else would the self-professed sociopath bother with a seemingly ordinary man? With Sherlock’s death no one would ever know for sure.
Engrossed in the details of John’s RAMC service, Lestrade had failed to note the passage of time and he was running late. He locked the files in his desk, refilled his mug with coffee of an indeterminate vintage and dashed off for his afternoon meeting.
.oOOo.
Greg Lestrade arrived at the Kensington flat around 1830 and pressed the intercom button in the entryway. John answered and the door-lock disengaged. The lift took him to the fourth floor and there he found John waiting down the corridor to welcome him into the flat.
John looked much better than the last time they met. Now John was no longer confined to his wheelchair and his new, hard-won mobility had done wonders to improve his temperament. Smiling suited him better, and he seemed genuinely glad to see Greg this time. The flat was much as he remembered it. The conversion to open concept and other renovations to enlarge the doors no longer looked out of place.
‘Thanks for coming over. There’s beer in the fridge, or something stronger, if you prefer.’
‘Beer will be fine,’ he replied and helped himself to one of the bottles.
They exchanged small talk while they waited for the match to begin. Sarah was at a prenatal fitness class and was expected back by 2030. Lestrade admired the large screen television and John inquired about work at the Met. As if by mutual agreement, the topic of John’s health did not come up.
Arsenal was down by two when Lestrade headed to the kitchen for another beer. An empty can of protein drink sat by the sink. ‘Don’t tell me that was your supper?’ he asked, waving it at John.
‘I would have preferred curry.’
‘I’ll ignore that. Are these things any good?’
John’s grimace provided the only answer he needed.
Lestrade sat back to watch the match, but his mind kept returning to thoughts about John’s past. He found himself observing the doctor rather than following Arsenal’s lacklustre offence.
After the explosion, the time that John spent on life support had been hard on everyone. Doctors spoke in ominous tones of cascading organ failure and the futility of extending life at any cost. And yet, when John’s sister, Harry, finally won the right to have the machines removed, John’s ravaged lungs resumed the burden of breathing on their own, one unsteady breath after another. A miracle, really, if one believed in such things.
As John became aware of his situation, his morale would have taken a bad turn if not for Sarah’s support. Her encouragement and his gritty tenacity achieved the small victories which comprised his recovery. Months passed, and Sarah and John grew close again but it had not been easy for her. Not all of her friends had been supportive when they, as a couple, had announced their intentions. In fact, she and her father had estranged over the matter. That had to be awkward with a baby on the way.
John’s groan of despair as Arsenal missed another goal brought Lestrade back to the here and now.
‘England versus Wales in February… I might be able to scare up some tickets,’ Lestrade said in order to start some conversation.
‘February might be problematic. I’ll be a dad then… and if the adoption goes through, we’ll have three kids,’ said John.
‘That’s sudden! Not that it’s any of my business--’
‘Sudden? Yeah, you could call it that. This has all come about since yesterday...’
‘Yesterday?’ Lestrade exclaimed indicating that John should elaborate. He could see John weighing in his mind what to say next, and very likely, what not to say.
‘Sarah and I found out that a friend of the family is dying and she wants us to adopt her two kids. There is no other family so we have act fast. A private adoption is less complicated than if they become wards of the Crown.’
‘Two? How old?’
‘Twins. A boy and a girl. They will be six in March.’
‘Their mum is that sick?’
‘Yeah. Cancer. It’s a matter of days now.’
‘That’s rough... What about their father?’
‘Predeceased.’
‘But you, and Sarah? Two kids, and then a new baby?’ Lestrade shook his head in disbelief.
‘I know it’s mad, but Sarah and I have our reasons. Look, I’m not trying to be evasive, but nothing is certain right now. We should probably wait a few days, you know, before we start telling anyone...’
‘Donovan is already asking questions. What should I tell her?’
‘I dunno. “Thanks for your concern, but everything is fine?” No matter what happens, there won’t be all that much to say for at least a week.’
There was something to this that John was not telling him and Lestrade knew better than to push further. John was a likable sort of bloke, but he guarded his privacy closely. Whatever it was would be revealed in good time. It was not worth risking the trust built up over the years to pry. Lestrade handed John the brown envelope.
‘I’ve signed off on this. There’s nothing in your backgrounds to keep you and Sarah from adopting, even if the BAAF gets involved. I’ve even added a personal reference, for what it’s worth.’
‘Really? Cheers, mate! I’ll give it to the solicitors tomorrow morning.’
‘You should know: in the New Year, the Met’s setting up a task force on the illegal trade in prescription drugs. I told the Chief Super that I would ask you on as a medical community liaison. That was before this adoption came up. The job’s yours if you want it.’
‘What would I have to do?’
‘Not much at this point. The committee is just forming. For now, they’re only collecting names on paper. It will be mostly drugs squad, but they want input from the medical community.’
‘Real input, or lip-service?’
‘That would be up to you. I don’t see you letting them push you around. Attend the occasional meeting and work from home the rest of the time. What do you think?’
‘Sounds like charity to me.’
‘No, John, charity pays better,’ Greg laughed. Typical John: suspicious of even the best intentions.
Sarah arrived home just minutes before the match ended. Nothing save a miracle could help Arsenal at that point so John clicked off the television.
‘Greg! What a pleasant surprise!’ Sarah exclaimed as she set down her gym kit and a small bag of groceries.
‘Hullo, Sarah. All right?’
‘Oh yes. Considering,’ she smiled as she rubbed her rounded abdomen. “Baby’s moving more, and I’m moving less. I suppose there’s some sort of balance in that.’
‘Greg expedited the background check. I’ll call Goodwin first thing tomorrow,’ said John.
‘That’s wonderful! Thanks, Greg. Has John told you what’s happening?’
‘Yes,’ Lestrade nodded. As much as he thought I ought to know, he added to himself.
‘You must think we’re all mad here. Won’t you stay for a cuppa? I’ve also bought ice cream.’
Lestrade declined the offer and rose to leave. He wished John and Sarah a good night and implored them to contact him if they needed anything.
As he made his way to the nearby tube station, an uneasy thought had taken root in his mind. Like most of their friends, Lestrade had been sceptical at first when he heard of Sarah’s and John’s plans to marry. He was happy to be proven wrong when John’s health concerns did not stop the couple from being brilliant together, but he felt that suddenly adding three children to their already complicated situation was asking for trouble.
.oOOo.
Next time: we finally get to meet the kids!