Genes of a Genius [A parentlock fanfiction, made with ohmygodhai] ~DISCONTINUED~

chapter 2

After months of working endlessly, the experiment was almost over. Sherlock was sat waiting, waiting to be presented with his son. He would have nothing to do with the boy of course. He had his DNA, that would be their only connection. The U.N would take care of raising the boy. Children and family weren't really Sherlock's area. Although he found himself feeling a little nervous as he waited anxiously.

"Sherlock?" James, one of the men who was working along Sherlock during the process said as he stepped out of the room.Standing opposite Sherlock he seemed a little nervous. Fiddling with the sleeves of his lab coat.

"James" Sherlock said, his eyes shut, fingertips placed under his chin. He had retreated to his mind palace in an attempt to calm himself.  

"We're ready for you now" He said simply. However, Sherlock did not move from his position, he stayed still, eyes still shut. He didn't even answer.

"Sherlock?"

"y-yes, what? What is it?" He said, stuttering his eyes, as if James had rudely interrupted him from an important event.

"I said, we're ready for you now" James repeated, gesturing his arms towards the nearby door which Sherlock was now analyzing.

"Yes, right, of course" He said, getting up and trying to keep calm. He made his way towards the door, not entirely sure if he wanted to see what was on the other side. Did he really want this? Was this right? Well too late to turn back now. 

"Would you like to take a seat?" James asked, gesturing to a chair that was positioned opposite another.

"Not really." Sherlock stated.

James sighed "I'm afraid the experiment was not a success."

"What?" Sherlock gasped, sitting in the seat abruptly.

"The baby didn't make it."

"So, are we going to start again?" Sherlock asked.

"We can't. The members of the United Nations would never vote for something like this again. Not after it failed. Too risky, besides there's only so long before some agent outsider reveals our plans to the press. I'm sorry Sherlock."

"I-It doesn't matter. I-I don't care anyway." Sherlock composed himself, standing and straightening his jacket. "Thank you anyway."

James smiled lightly, shaking Sherlock's hand. Sherlock returned the smile and walked out the door, his jacket whipping behind him, as he tried to forget the events he had witnessed. All forgotten, deleted. 

"Did he buy it?" A voice called from the shadows.

"Yes, but I'm not comfortable lying to him like this Sir, it's his son." James shifted awkwardly.

"Is this doubt I hear in your voice?" The man Sherlock had met months ago said sternly, holding Sherlock's baby in his arms.

"No, definitely not I just.. I just wonder why we can't tell him." James sighed.

"Sherlock's brother is one of the most powerful men in Britain. If he ever found out about this, which he would if we told his brother, then the whole experiment would be shut down and the child would be put in Sherlock's care. This child is no longer yours nor Mr. Holmes' problem. If I hear another word about it slip from your mouth know that you will be... Disposed of." 

"You alright?" John asked from the kitchen as Sherlock slumped down on his armchair after he had stormed into the flat, and huffed. 

"Fine" He answered, crossing his arms and looking fed up.

"Tough day at Scotland Yard?"

"You could say that" The Detective scrunched up into a ball, hands over his head. He looked distressed.

"Sherlock?"

"WHAT?!"

"Alright, I wont talk if you're gonna be like that..." No reply. Sherlock had no intention to tell John of his whereabouts, or what he had been doing, but he wasn't going to ignore his own feelings.

"John, how many times have you decided you don't want something, but when you don't get it...you become disappointed"

"I don't understand.."

"I mean, you are promised something, something you don't exactly want, but expect to receive it. But once you find out you wont be getting what you didn't want, you feel disappointed"

John thought for a moment "...I still don't understand"

Sherlock huffed "Never-mind" 

-14 years later-

Mycroft drummed his fingers against the desk impatiently. He was awaiting a visitor. Soon the door opened and two men entered, wearing suits, with a dark haired boy being held by the shoulders.

"Sit" Mycroft ordered. The boy did so, and sheepishly sat before Mycroft.

"Where are you from?" Mycroft leaned forwards.

"France," the boy replied in a thick french accent.

"Oh really? And how old are you?" Mycroft asked.

"I am 12 sir."

"May I ask what your name is?" He narrowed his eyes.

"Why, my name is Lewis sir, Lewis Stafford." The boy replied sweetly.

"Call my brother." Mycroft said to the two men, who nodded.

"Why, sir, who is your brother? What will he do to me?" The boy whimpered.

"You know full well who my brother is, now quit the act Hamish and talk properly. We know who you are, we've been watching you for months, hoping from orphanage to orphanage. Very dangerous, and sadly, very much like my brother." He sighed. Hamish looked up, not afraid, not alarmed, just curious.

"So what's going to happen now?" He asked, in his normal British accent.

"221B Baker street, Nephew of mine." Mycroft grinned.

"For God's sake. Why do I have to be escorted there? I was going to find him on my own! I was doing well!" Hamish groaned, being lead out to the black car.

"Well, today's the day you meet your Father, Hamish Holmes."