Sherlock sighed for what probably was the hundredth time that day. He gazed out the window of his parent's Yukon, wishing he was anywhere but packed in this SUV with his infuriating brother and the people insisting that they move to a small country town in the middle of fucking no where. He cranked his music a little louder, letting the base thrum through his head in a soothing way.
Hours later, they pulled into the driveway of a simple but beautiful home in between two cornfields, which Sherlock hated on sight. Mycroft muttered about how it was a nice house just to appease their parents, but Sherlock felt no such need. He was out of the car as soon as it stopped, observing the area around him, from the road and the forest opposite to the farmhouse he could see in the distance to the left.
Once he had gathered the information he could from the surroundings, he faced the house, his family getting out of the vehicle behind him. His mother nodded in approval at the building and went to unlock the front door while his father and brother began unpacking the car. Soon the moving truck would be pulling up the driveway and the house would be filled by mediocre minds. Deciding he would hide in his new room for as long as he could, Sherlock followed his mother into the house.
He chose his room before Mycroft even got up the stairs. His new territory faced east; toward the farmhouse he had seen peaking over the cornrows. He leaned on the window, letting his breath fog the glass and wishing he were anywhere but here.
JWXSH
John was on the tractor, country music blasting through his headphones as he worked. The sun beat down on his back and he used his sleeve to mop up the sweat gathering on his forehead, pondering going down to the swimming hole that evening just to cool off. Some of his school friends might be willing to come. Humming along with the next song that came on, John looked up just in time to see a large moving truck thunder by, heading towards the property to their right.
Someone must have bought it, because he could see the top of an SUV from where he was perched, and reminded himself to tell his mom when he finished up. She would want to go over with cookies or whatnot and invite them over for dinner, he was sure. John rolled his eyes fondly at the thought, knowing he would have to go along and that Cooper would follow him as he always did, mostly lured by the smell of cookies. The dog had an obsession with baked goods for some reason.
John finished up his work swiftly and headed back to the house, stripping his shirt off as he walked through the front door while Harry bitched about indecency. John stuck his tongue out at her and continued through to the back of the house where the kitchen was, and where his mother was beginning to cook dinner.
"Hey Ma. Think some new neighbors moved in next door." John said as he plopped down in one of the chairs, plucking an apple from the bowl and beginning to munch on it. His mother glanced at him quickly before returning to stirring a gigantic pot.
"Is that right? Well you know what that means – you're helping me bake tonight." John sighed deeply at his mother's words, but knew that arguing would be pointless. What his mother wanted, she got.
"Alright. We inviting them to dinner tomorrow night, then?" John asked, and his mother nodded, her head in a cookbook. He smiled at the familiar sight and patted her shoulder before leaving the room to go take a shower.
JWXSH
John woke the next morning with Cooper sprawled across his feet, snoring softly. His father always told him not to let the dog on the bed, but John couldn't make his beloved canine lay on the cold floor, and so up onto the quilt he came. They both seemed to sleep better because of it.
It was Saturday, which meant it was John's turn to cook breakfast, so he slid out from under his dog and headed to the bathroom in his pajama pants, rubbing one eye and hearing the clicking of Cooper's nails behind him. John went through his morning ritual before finally getting downstairs in wranglers and a white t-shirt, heading straight for the kitchen with Cooper at his heels.
His father was already at the table reading the newspaper when he arrived, and Cooper walked over immediately to place his head in the man's lap. Not looking away from his paper, the older man patted the dog's head lightly as John set to work getting out the eggs and bread. Breakfast was nearly done when Harry and their mother entered the room, and Harry helped him put everything on plates and place them on the table.
"Honey, John told me we have some new neighbors. I'm going to invite them to dinner tonight, so after you get out of the fields you best be cleaning up fast. I want to make a good impression." John's mother told her husband, who rolled his eyes but nodded as he shoveled eggs into his mouth. Harry chuckled and John couldn't help but join in, knowing that their father was underneath his wife's thumb just like their children. She turned sharp eyes on them next and the laughter was swallowed up with bits of toast.
"Harry, you'll be helping me cook dinner tonight. And John, you're coming with me to welcome them to the neighborhood. No complaining." She ordered, and they both nodded meekly.
After breakfast Harry took care of the dishes while John stuffed his feet into some boots, Cooper being generally in the way. His mother came strolling in just as John wrestled his left foot into the boot, shaking her head and grabbing a pie off the top of the fridge. John leapt up to follow her out of the kitchen and through the house, Cooper trailing behind as John knew he would.
The three of them made it out of the house, down the long driveway and onto the road swiftly, and John wondered what these new people would be like. Would they have just moved from another town like this one, and would be as welcoming as any family here? Or maybe they were from the city and would be cold and strange. Thoughts raged around his head and the next thing he knew his mother was ringing the doorbell and movement was heard from inside.
It took a moment, but then the door opened to show a tall, beautiful woman with black hair pulled back into a bun. She looked strict, and John had to keep himself from shrinking back. His mother, however, felt no such fear, and introduced herself cheerfully, offering the pie. The woman in question was Mrs. Holmes, and John grinned at her warmly when he was introduced. A small smile made it's way onto Mrs. Holmes face, and she ushered them inside, calling up the stairs for her sons.
JWXSH
Sherlock was setting up a new experiment when he heard the doorbell ring and his mother open the door. Must be some of their neighbors coming to say hello. Dull.
He continued to tinker with various items, ignoring the voices that wafted up from the floor below. That was, until his mother's voice floated up to summon them. He could here Mycroft's door open and close and hoped beyond hope that they would leave him alone.
Of course not. A knock came at his door moments before Mycroft simply walked in and grabbed his arm, dragging him away from his discoveries and down the stairs. Sherlock struggled, yelling about how his acids were going to do damage to his equipment, but Mycroft was used to that since he said it every time. He was pulled all the way from the stairs into the parlor, where his mother was setting out lemonade for a kind looking woman and what was clearly her son.
Mycroft let go of Sherlock and he instantly began smoothing out the wrinkles, nearly growling at his older brother and refusing to move from the entrance of the room. His mother looked up as Mycroft sat beside her and grinned (evilly, Sherlock noted) at her youngest son.
"Sherlock, I'm so glad you could take a moment from your experiments to join us. This is Mrs. Watson and her son, John. He's in the same grade as you." She said sweetly, but there was a twinkle in her eye Sherlock did not trust at all. He nodded shortly to John, who smiled blindingly in return. Sherlock wasn't used to that from people, but he knew it would vanish shortly after he opened his mouth, which he was about to do.
"Works on the farm after school and on weekends in between school work and football, you've had that dog since you where around 10-12 and trained him yourself – you let him sleep on the bed, though you're not allowed to. Mrs. Watson has cut your hair ever since you were young, and you have an older brother." Sherlock deduced quickly, ignoring his mother who said his name in warning. At least he was leaving Mrs. Watson alone.
John gaped at him, and he waited patiently for the scowling to begin. Mrs. Watson seemed startled, and Mycroft was rubbing his face in frustration. Right as his mother went to apologize, though, John began to speak.
"That was amazing! How did you know all that about me and Cooper? Can you do that to anyone?" John said eagerly, and it was Sherlock's turn to be shocked, though he got his composure back quickly.
"You have a clear farmers tan, you have faded grass stains on your shirt – I'm thinking they come from sports, not work – that dog looks to be between 4 and 6, but he looks to you for direction, so you must have trained him. Usually training is done when they're younger; he was probably bought as a gift. You also have fur on your shirt but no paw prints, which means the fur didn't get there by him jumping on you, it was transferred from your sheets to your shirt when you were getting dressed. Mrs. Watson looks like a very neat woman, so you're not allowed to let him on the furniture but you let him on the bed anyway. Your hair looks good but not the same as if a barber did it; therefore someone – a family member – has practice and surely took care of your haircuts for a long time. Finally, the phone in your lap looks a bit banged up, and is an older model, therefore a hand-me-down from an older sibling and usually girls take better care of their possessions." Sherlock said all of this in what seemed like one breath. "And yes, I can do that to anyone."
A wide grin broke out on John's face, and he patted the head of his dog, who wagged his tail happily.
"You got everything right except one thing: I have an older sister. She's just a tomboy that gets banged up a lot." John told Sherlock, chuckling at the thought. Sherlock frowned but nodded, but soon he had a little smile of his own. John's cheerfulness was infectious. After another moment Sherlock decided that this may be worth his while, and sat down in one of the chairs to listen.