“So, legally speaking, I’m supposed to call you Dad?” Sherlock pointed at himself with one hand and Tony with the other, his face filled with utter disbelief.
Apparently, when a situation became absurd enough, laughter was the only possible response.
John and Helen were perfect examples.
If the subject had not been so serious, they would already have been doubled over.
Even now, once the initial shock passed, both of them were visibly struggling to keep straight faces.
Who could have imagined that Sherlock would be forced out of his comfortable home for one rescue mission and somehow return with a father figure?
Seeing how badly Sherlock was taking the revelation, Tony’s lips curved into a grin.
He nodded without hesitation and replied with shameless satisfaction.
“Legally speaking, yes.
You should call me Dad.” That answer sent Sherlock’s blood pressure soaring.
He stared at Tony’s unbearably smug face, the grin making his mustache twitch with every word, and felt—for the first time across both of his lives—an overwhelming desire to settle a disagreement through the ancient art of punching someone repeatedly.
Tony took one look at Sherlock’s disgusted expression and felt that he had finally avenged everything Sherlock had put him through in the desert!
Feigning wounded dignity, he lowered his eyes and said mournfully, “And yet you won’t even call me Godfather.” That shameless imitation of a classic movie line finally broke John and Helen.
Both of them burst into laughter, clutching their stomachs.
Sherlock’s face went red.
Without another word, he launched himself across the cabin at Tony.
…
After a brief but enthusiastic brawl, Sherlock and Tony returned to their seats with bruised faces and swelling around their eyes.
This time, they had been separated.
John sat beside Sherlock, while Helen had taken the seat next to Tony.
Both were still suppressing smiles, clearly torn between wanting to watch the fight continue and knowing they had to stop it.
Doro was the only one who had no idea what had happened.
She sat happily on the table, eating fruit with a perfectly contented expression.
Once Sherlock had finally calmed down, Tony pressed a hand against the black eye Sherlock had given him and continued.
“Jokes aside, I truly am sorry about your parents.
But everything I just told you is true—” Sherlock immediately tried to stand and challenge him to another round.
John forced him back into his seat.
Once Sherlock was safely restrained again, Tony quietly exhaled in relief and continued.
“I’m telling you this because S.H.I.E.L.D.
has started taking an interest in you.
Listen carefully, Sherlock.
Your parents didn’t die in a simple plane accident.
There were too many unanswered questions, and too many people were involved.
That’s also why I never fulfilled any of my responsibilities as your guardian.
I’ve spent years surrounded by people watching my every move.
I don’t know how you acquired these abilities, but I do know this: if you truly want to avoid trouble, stay as far away from organizations like S.H.I.E.L.D.
as possible.
To be completely honest, you never should have accepted the mission to rescue me, and you certainly shouldn’t have revealed your powers while doing it.” Tony’s tone was completely serious.
Sherlock could hear the genuine concern behind every word, but the information itself struck him like a tolling bell.
His parents’ deaths had not been an accident?
Tony had spent years under constant observation?
And what did S.H.I.E.L.D.
have to do with any of it?
For the first time, Sherlock felt as though an invisible web had been wrapped around him since before he ever arrived in this world.
What surprised him even more was the fury that rose inside him when he learned that his parents had been murdered.
Sherlock knew perfectly well that he had never met them.
He had no memories of them and no emotional attachment to them.
Yet the anger in his heart burned hotter with every passing second, an endless flame demanding only one thing.
Revenge.
‘Fine.
I inherited your body, so I’ll inherit the burdens that came with it.
If revenge is what you still want, I’ll see it through for you.’ The moment Sherlock formed that thought, the raging fire within him abruptly disappeared.
In its place remained a faint sense of expectation, as though something that had lingered inside the body for years had finally received the answer it wanted.
Sherlock drew a slow breath and looked across at Tony.
“Whether I should have become involved no longer matters.
I already am.
If I had never learned the truth, that would be one thing, but now I know my parents didn’t die in an accident.
If I do nothing after hearing that, I have no right to call myself their son.” Tony opened his mouth, but Sherlock raised a hand and stopped him.
A dangerous smile spread across Sherlock’s face.
“Besides, I’m no longer helpless against people who hide behind conspiracies and scurry through the shadows like sewer rats.
If they come after me, I’m more than capable of bringing their entire world down around them.” Tony raised an eyebrow, clearly wondering where such confidence came from.
Then Sherlock began explaining his alchemy.
Tony’s expression shifted from skepticism to shock, then from shock to disbelief.
By the end, he looked as though the basic laws of reality had personally betrayed him.
He pointed toward Doro, who was still eating fruit on the table.
“So you’re telling me that this thing is the result of a failed attempt at forbidden human transmutation?
An actual living creature?” Sherlock smiled mischievously.
“That’s right.
I created Doro, and the price was one arm and one eye, so technically, Doro is my child—a genuine soul born from my own flesh and blood.” He paused, and the mischief in his smile became even more obvious.
“Which means that, technically, you’re Doro’s grandfather.” Sherlock turned toward her.
“Go on, Doro.
Say hello to Grandpa.” “Grandpa!” Doro had no idea what a grandfather was, but she had never been one to question Sherlock.
She immediately set down her orange, looked sweetly at Tony, and called him Grandpa.
A visible crack appeared in Tony’s expression.
Then the rest of him seemed to break along with it.
He pointed a trembling finger at Sherlock.
Tony Stark had been a perfectly contented bachelor.
Now he apparently had a legal ward, a godson in every meaningful sense, and—somehow—a granddaughter!
The worst part was that the grandfather, the son, and the granddaughter were all single!
Tony was beginning to deeply regret teasing Sherlock.
He should have taken the secret of Sherlock’s parentage to his grave.