I Don't Want To Believe

Meet The Watsons

    "Don't hurt me!" begged a small lump underneath the blankets of the bed. John just sighed, seeing his father's stunned reaction. Sherlock had buried himself under the comforter as some sort of defense, obviously not knowing where he was, what he was doing there, or how he got there. Maybe he thought he was back in his home planet, getting ready for execution.
"Sherlock, get out from there." John insisted, feeling kind of embarrassed that this was his father's first real impression of his new son in law. The lump paused for a moment, and Sherlock's messy head appeared from out of the dark depths with a timid look, like he was prepared to run.
"John!" he exclaimed. "John, you're alright!" he scrambled out from under the covers and dove at John in relief, vaulting off the bed and wrapping John in the most aggressive hug known to man and alien.
"Ya, Sherlock, I'm fine, I'm alright." John assured, trying to pry Sherlock's very tight arms from around him. It wasn't like he didn't like to be hugged in front of his father; it was just that this was the most awkward situation he had ever been in. John struggled to breathe, finally pushing Sherlock away from him and leaning against the wall, his legs aching underneath him. Sherlock had the most crooked, childlike grin spread across his face, staring at John as if he were the most beautiful thing in the world.
"I was so worried; I thought you were dead, that I didn't do enough to save you." Sherlock admitted, gently touching the side of John's face as if to make sure he still felt the same as he did before the fall. John swatted Sherlock's hand away, blushing madly.
"I don't feel any fractures, your heart still beats the same as it used to." Sherlock decided. John sighed, rolling his eyes and looking at his father's stunned expression, as if he didn't know what to think right now.
"Sherlock, this is my father, and dad, this is Sherlock." John decided, hoping to end Sherlock's very passionate medical examination. Sherlock spun on his heel, obviously no broken bones or aftershocks to worry about.
"Mr. Watson, ah, you must be the father of this wonderful human being!" Sherlock exclaimed, coming even closer to Mr. Watson and spreading his arms out for a hug. Mr. Watson backed away in fear, and Sherlock dropped his arms rather reluctantly, as if not sure why Mr. Watson looked so terrified.
"You're an alien." Mr. Watson muttered.
"In your case, yes, but to me, you're the alien. Funny little monkey you are." Sherlock said with a laugh, poking Mr. Watson's forehead in fascination.
"Stay away from me, freak." Mr. Watson insisted, scrambling behind the nightstand and brandishing the lamp as a weapon.
"Well, I would hardly use that word, John, doesn't he like me?" Sherlock asked, looking back and John who was now very embarrassed. For himself, and for Sherlock, because right now his father was certainly planning just how to get rid of this pest.
"No, he doesn't, but I know two people who will. Let's go downstairs, meet my mother and my sister, they'll love you." John decided.
"Well, um, I'm not sure if I can commit, I mean, I just met them and as flattering as that is..." Sherlock started.
"Not in a romantic way, it's a metaphor, just follow me." John insisted. Sherlock nodded wildly, looking back at Mr. Watson and his lamp joust before following John very closely down the stairs.
"So this is where you live?" Sherlock asked, running his fingers over the wall and the banister as if fascinated.
"Yep. Here everything is made from wood and plaster, not metal." John pointed out.
"A lot more homely, is this you?" Sherlock asked. John looked up to see that Sherlock was still on the staircase, looking at the family pictures on the wall.
"Get away from there." John insisted.
"Aw you're so cute, your little bowl haircut..." Sherlock laughed, but John grabbed his arm and dragged him down the stairs. Mrs. Watson was still trying to enjoy her cup of tea at the table, but as soon as Sherlock walked into the room Harry nearly fell out of her chair in excitement.
"He's up, Mommy, John's alien is up!" she exclaimed, scrambling over to Sherlock and wrapping her arms around his legs. Sherlock stumbled backwards, obviously a bit taken aback, but looked at John apprehensively.
"Is this how all humans say hello?" he muttered. John just laughed, but shook his head.
"Nope, but that's how my sister says hello." John admitted.
"Is this..." Mrs. Watson obviously didn't want to finish her sentence, so she just smiled forcefully.
"You must be John's mother!" Sherlock said excitedly, awkwardly patting Harry's head.
"Harry, get off of him." John insisted. Harry pried herself off and stared up in wonder.
"You're an alien?" she asked.
"That seems to be the first question all of you funny humans have." Sherlock decided. Mrs. Watson looked around uncomfortably; obviously not able to tell if he was literally from space or if this was a big joke being played.
"So, you are?" Harry asked.
"Yes, I'm an alien." Sherlock agreed with a smile.
"Well, Mr...." Mrs. Watson left that trailing in an attempt to find out Sherlock's last name. Sherlock just stood there rather awkwardly, looking at Mrs. Watson with confusion and a smile.
"Holmes, his last name is Holmes." John pointed out, seeing as Sherlock was now more confused than his mother.
"Mr. Holmes, how is it that you and my son know each other?" she asked. Sherlock looked over at John with a large smile, making John blush once more for no apparent reason.
"Well, I took him to be my human for the Alpha Male experiment. He's a lovely boy, you must be very proud." Sherlock decided.
"Yes, we are...very proud, how long is it that you'll be staying?" she asked nervously, as if she wanted to hint that he wasn't exactly welcome.
"Well, I'm not sure, I can't go home, they'll kill me, and I'm not going to leave John, so I'd say as long as it takes." Sherlock shrugged, going over and observing the flowers on the kitchen table. Mrs. Watson now looked panic stricken, as if imagining her life with an alien living in her guest room.
"We'll figure something out, but for now we need a place to lie low, until the guards decide to give up the search." John decided.
"Why would they do that?" Mrs. Watson asked.
"I have no idea. Maybe they just decide the search is useless." Sherlock shrugged.
"Wouldn't the first place the guards search be here? I mean, this is his house." Mrs. Watson pointed out.
"I'm the only one who knows where he lives. It was never on the files, they never cared to know, as long as he was healthy and hand delivered." Sherlock shrugged.
"Did you really have a baby?" Harry wondered.
"Scientifically, yes." Sherlock agreed. John sighed, sitting in a kitchen chair and returning to his now chilly chicken soup.
"Is that food?" Sherlock asked hopefully.
"Human food." John agreed.
"May I please have some?" Sherlock asked, sounding like a little child. But then again, how could you say no to puppy eyes like those?
"Of course sir, yes." Mrs. Watson agreed, scrambling to her feet so quickly that her chair nearly fell over. Sherlock went to sit next to John, observing the wooden table in awe, as if he could never imagine something so amazing.
"She called me sir. I like it here." he decided.
"Just be nice, obviously my dad isn't your biggest fan." John muttered.
"I will be nice, I'm a nice person." Sherlock insisted. John just laughed into his soup, but Sherlock had gone back to sniffing the roses on the table.
"So, why do you look like a human?" Harry asked, appearing at the side of Sherlock's chair and looking up at him in wonder.
"My kind was once human, evolved to survive." Sherlock pointed out.
"Everyone says aliens are green." She insisted.
"Everyone says humans are evil. Stereotypes aren't necessarily correct." Sherlock pointed out. Harry nodded slowly, crawling onto Sherlock's chair and sitting on his lap as if he were some sort of other worldly Santa Clause.
"Harry get down from there." Mrs. Watson said frantically, nearly dropping the fresh bowl of chicken soup. Sherlock, however, found Harry quite amusing as she observed his hair and squirmed around.
"It's alright, he's friendly." She decided. "I like this alien." Mrs. Watson looked terrified for her daughter's safety, but pushed the soup over towards Sherlock.
"Thank you, it smells...lovely." He muttered, poking at the noodles apprehensively.
"Come on, human food isn't that bad." John insisted. Sherlock raised his spoon to his lips and took a cautious bite. He shrugged, obviously not thinking it was all that bad, and continued eating.
"Do you have sharp teeth?" Harry wondered, trying to get a good look at Sherlock's teeth as he ate. Sherlock just smiled wifely at her, and there might not have been any fangs, but there was a piece of parsley sticking to his front tooth. Harry just giggled, going back to pulling at his curls in fascination.
"How are you walking? How are you even alive?" John asked.
"We go into a coma like state to heal, and by doing so our bodies heal much quicker than your human ones." Sherlock admitted.
"Well, that would be why you didn't wake up when I pulled you home." John muttered.
"You pulled me?" Sherlock asked in confusion.
"It wasn't easy, but yes. How do you think you ended up here?" John asked. Sherlock shrugged.
"I don't know, I just thought it sort of...happened." he admitted. John laughed for his utter stupidity, but he had to admit, he certainly was adorable. A small gasp from behind them announced Mr. Watson's reappearance.
"Harry get away from that monster, he'll eat you!" he gasped, walking very quickly over as if to save his daughter. However when Sherlock turned his head to look, Mr. Watson stopped in fear.
"He's just eating soup dad." John insisted.
"We are not cannibals, we are not ravenous, we do not eat humans. We are peaceful creatures, and I for one adore your wife's chicken soup." Sherlock decided. Mr. Watson didn't look convinced.
"Look here sir, I do not want you in my house, I don't want you tainting my family with your presence, go back to the planet you came from." He demanded.
"I'll be killed if I go back." Sherlock said simply. "I must stay here."
"I will not let an alien use our house as an escape route!" Mr. Watson growled.
"I extended hospitality and safekeeping to your son; I suggest you do the same." Sherlock decided.
"Dear, just, calm down, we'll figure this out." Mrs. Watson decided from behind the counter, clutching to her large rubber spoon as if it would somehow defend her.
"No, this is my house, John is my son, and I have authority here. I don't care who you are, I don't care what you are, I want you out." Mr. Watson decided. Sherlock took a deep breath and set down his spoon, Harry scrambled off of his lap as if seeing clear and present danger. John watched his father nervously, as if wondering when he would get the hint. Slowly Sherlock rose to his feet, not as tall as Mr. Watson but radiating an air of power and authority. Mr. Watson looked very small compared to Sherlock's glimmering skin, his purple leather jumpsuit and his determined expression, a frown fixed between his chiseled cheekbones.
"Mr. Watson, I do advise you not to anger me. I have an army, and they might be after me but I can assure you they won't stop because a mere mortal got in their way. And I will take your son, and I will take our son, and I will run and watch your house, your life, and your family go up in flames. John is my family, and now I am his, and from one father to another, I just want what is best for my son and for my partner. If you do not think your home is fit to house my kind, if you decide that maybe you want to test my boundaries, go right ahead. But no harm will come to you or anything that you love if you simply extend your arms in welcome." Sherlock warned. The room was silent; John slowly got to his feet and put a calming hand on Sherlock's shoulder, who was breathing very heavily with his eyes wide in warning. Mr. Watson looked terrified, as if he had just had the fear of God put in him. Mrs. Watson was close to tears, and Harry looked downright excited.
"Honey, say something." Mrs. Watson whispered in a very hoarse, terrified voice. Mr. Watson opened his mouth and no words came out so he stopped, took a deep breath, and tried again.
"You're welcome, of course, you're welcome to stay." He muttered. At first Sherlock remained still, and John thought he might start back up again with the warnings and the hostility, but then a large, cheery smile reemerged on his face.
"Lovely." He decided, spinning around and sitting back down at the table, picking up his spoon as if to start again on his chicken soup. No one else moved, and the only sound was Sherlock's unattractive slurping.

 "Sherlock, why don't we go upstairs?" John decided. Sherlock looked up innocently, his green eyes large and hopeful. 

"Well, this soup is so good, I'd like to finish..."
"Now please. Don't even try warning me." John decided, taking Sherlock's shoulder and pulling him to his feet. "We'll be upstairs." John decided, smiling innocently to his family before leading his new alien friend up to his room.
"So this is where you sleep?" Sherlock asked, walking over to where John displayed all of his soccer medals with interest. John sighed, shutting the door and turning on the light. Back in his own room, it made him happier than he could even process.
"Yes, Sherlock, we need to talk." John decided.
"Yes, we do, of course we do." Sherlock agreed, running his fingers through the medals before spinning to look at John.
"You can't threaten my family." John decided. Sherlock nodded, taking a step closer.
"Well, I had to, they were going to split us up." he agreed, reaching up to try to run his finger across John's hairline. John pushed his hand away, still trying to act angry.
"Yes, but they're my family. You're not going to burn our house and let them die, okay, they were my priority and they still are. The fact that you decided to join me on Earth just complicates everything. I still need to have a life, I can't just be your human housewife, I've got school, and I've got soccer, I've got friends and homework and most importantly I have my family." John pointed out.
"I thought I was your family." Sherlock pointed out, now looking like a sad child.
"You are, Sherlock, I mean you're my secondary family, by default. But I was still prepared to leave you for them, and just because you tagged along doesn't mean you have to threaten their lives." John pointed out. Sherlock's face fell, and for a moment John was almost tempted to give him a hug or something.
"I killed a man, one of my kind, to save you. I broke my planet's rules, I went behind my brother's back, and I became a murderer, all for you John, and I'm still secondary?" Sherlock asked. "What must I do to get you to appreciate me, am I just a burden? Without me John, you wouldn't be here. Without me, you'd be dead." Sherlock muttered.
"Without you, I'd still be here. If you hadn't picked me, I'd be sitting on my bed, or maybe I'd be at school, I would be able to walk without soreness, I could enjoy my family and I wouldn't even know your kind existed." John snapped.
"Yes John, maybe you're right. Maybe...maybe it would be best if I just left. Obviously you all don't want me." Sherlock muttered, starting to turn towards the door in rejection.
"Sherlock, no, I didn't say leave, I just..." John started, grabbing Sherlock's arm to pull him back.
"John, if it wasn't for me, you wouldn't be here, of course not. I'd be on my ship, with another human, and maybe if this hadn't happened I wouldn't mind to see them die. But I made a mistake, because I did chose you, and nothing would pain me more than see you suffer. And whether that be emotional, mentally, psychologically, socially, in anyway a human could possibly suffer, then I don't want to be the one responsible. You're an amazing person John, and I know now why they wanted a human to be a part of the Alpha. I hope, when he grows up, he turns out more like you than me." Sherlock muttered, a single tear running down his face as he slowly reached up and gently touched the side of John's face, his fingertips running over John's cheek as if fascinated by what he felt.
"Stay Sherlock, please stay." John begged. Sherlock sighed, letting his hand fall away and turning to face the wall, as if seeing John would change his decision entirely.
"If your father wants me to leave then it would be hardly good manners to argue." He sighed.
"Then I'm going with you." John decided.
"What? No you're not, I'm not going to let...no." Sherlock insisted, turning back around as if trying to see if John was joking or not. But John kept a straight face, he wasn't joking and he needed Sherlock to know that in order for this reverse psychology to work.
"We're sticking together, whether it be here, or on the streets, or at the executioner, we'll be together. As a family." John decided. "So where do you want to be?" Sherlock took a deep breath, but John could almost see a smile flicker upon his face.
"I'd want to be here, with you." he decided.
"That's what I thought." John agreed with a smile.