Mycroft + Sherlock fic
Progress has been slow the last few days; the story seems to have expanded on me.
Also, the majority of what I have written in the last few days is too spoilery for sharing. But have a few proverbial crumbs. Mycroft is 13 and Sherlock is 6. This is a continuation of a segment which I've posted from earlier, wherein Sherlock has broken his arm and Mycroft has to take him to the doctor. This is after the doctor visit. Joe Lowry is the kid who allegedly broke Sherlock's arm, but that is Sherlock's version of events.
Mycroft slept through half of the next morning and would have slept longer had Sherlock not woken him to ask something about magnesium and chemical reactions.
"Why?" Mycroft had rubbed his eyes.
"No reason," Sherlock feigned an innocent look. Mycroft contemplated breaking his brother's other arm for a second.
Instead, he made them both brunch and ignored the unbroken silence from their mother's room. Mycroft asked about Joe Lowry again -- specifically if Sherlock knew where he lived. Sherlock told him, and, wiping jam from his lower lip with his good hand, asked: "Why Mycroft?"
"No reason," Mycroft said smoothly. He collected their plates, mugs, and utensils and put them in the dishwasher. "I should just like to thank him for all the trouble he's caused." He smiled.
Sherlock's eyes glinted like little daggers and ice in midwinter.
Next scene: three years later, Christmas dinner, circa 1985.
*shudder*
comments at dreamwidth. Comment there using dreamwidth or OpenID.
Also, the majority of what I have written in the last few days is too spoilery for sharing. But have a few proverbial crumbs. Mycroft is 13 and Sherlock is 6. This is a continuation of a segment which I've posted from earlier, wherein Sherlock has broken his arm and Mycroft has to take him to the doctor. This is after the doctor visit. Joe Lowry is the kid who allegedly broke Sherlock's arm, but that is Sherlock's version of events.
Mycroft slept through half of the next morning and would have slept longer had Sherlock not woken him to ask something about magnesium and chemical reactions.
"Why?" Mycroft had rubbed his eyes.
"No reason," Sherlock feigned an innocent look. Mycroft contemplated breaking his brother's other arm for a second.
Instead, he made them both brunch and ignored the unbroken silence from their mother's room. Mycroft asked about Joe Lowry again -- specifically if Sherlock knew where he lived. Sherlock told him, and, wiping jam from his lower lip with his good hand, asked: "Why Mycroft?"
"No reason," Mycroft said smoothly. He collected their plates, mugs, and utensils and put them in the dishwasher. "I should just like to thank him for all the trouble he's caused." He smiled.
Sherlock's eyes glinted like little daggers and ice in midwinter.
Next scene: three years later, Christmas dinner, circa 1985.
*shudder*
comments at dreamwidth. Comment there using dreamwidth or OpenID.