Okay, so, this will be my first fill, well ever, and my brain wanted in on this. Sherlock's also in his teens, just for reference.
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Mycroft tossed me a small, black, rectangular object which I caught in an instant, not even bothering to look up from the novel in my lap. I could feel his sneer on me, but paid him no mind, focusing all my attention on the cell-phone in my palm. It was sleek, stream-line, probably a model not yet released knowing my brother. Sliding it up, the tiny letter-number keyboard lit up, the screen flashing to life.
"Gift from Mummy. She says you'll want it for school - wants you to keep in touch. She'll miss you so, you know," Mycroft stepped closer as I ran my thumb gently over the keyboard. Normally I would be opposed to receiving something like this from him for various reasons - he was the British government no matter how many times he's tried to tell me he's only the secretary to one of our Parliament members - but the phone was a thing of beauty, a companion I could use for just about anything if given proper thought. I offered Mycroft no response, still looking over the phone like a museum curator would look over a priceless artifact, and he strode from the sitting room without so much as a huff.
Plopping back down on the couch, I opened every folder, every contact that Mycroft had added in, inspecting each electronic detail before opting to send a text.
"Give Mummy my thanks. Also; fuck off, Mycroft." SH.
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Mycroft tossed me a small, black, rectangular object which I caught in an instant, not even bothering to look up from the novel in my lap. I could feel his sneer on me, but paid him no mind, focusing all my attention on the cell-phone in my palm. It was sleek, stream-line, probably a model not yet released knowing my brother. Sliding it up, the tiny letter-number keyboard lit up, the screen flashing to life.
"Gift from Mummy. She says you'll want it for school - wants you to keep in touch. She'll miss you so, you know," Mycroft stepped closer as I ran my thumb gently over the keyboard. Normally I would be opposed to receiving something like this from him for various reasons - he was the British government no matter how many times he's tried to tell me he's only the secretary to one of our Parliament members - but the phone was a thing of beauty, a companion I could use for just about anything if given proper thought. I offered Mycroft no response, still looking over the phone like a museum curator would look over a priceless artifact, and he strode from the sitting room without so much as a huff.
Plopping back down on the couch, I opened every folder, every contact that Mycroft had added in, inspecting each electronic detail before opting to send a text.
"Give Mummy my thanks. Also; fuck off, Mycroft." SH.
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Also? New head-canon.
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YAY glad you like. Makes my heart swell with joy. <3
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