I do not own Sherlock.
It was Easter in 221B Baker Street and a horrible noise filled the air. Mycroft had come over to give Sherlock a case. Instead of taking the case, the younger Homes chose to play his violin… incorrectly… and loudly.
John sat on his chair, drinking his tea, trying to resist the growing urge to shoot his roommate.
"SHERLOCK YOU'RE ACTING LIKE A CHILD!" Mycroft yelled above the "music".
"ARE NOT!"
"SAYING THAT DOESN'T HELP!"
"DEBATABLE!"
John dug his fingernails into the armrest. It was a good thing Mrs Hutson had gone on vacation, so she didn't have to deal with this. But, he did.
Three minutes of screeching and shouting later, John was ready to murder the both of them. He'd seen Scotland Yard's capabilities. He could make it look like a ascendent. Lestrade would believe that Sherlock poisoned himself for an experiment.
Mycroft was now trying to take Sherlock's violin. That was probably why the consulting detective was running around the room… still playing that stupid instrument!
Suddenly a tinfoil covered object hit Sherlock square in the face. The music, running and shouting instantly stopped.
The violin and bow were carefully placed on the ground. The offending projectile was picked up by long, slender fingers. A slightly broken Easter bunny, wrapped in silver. Sherlock turned to his roommate and tilted his head. "What is this?"
"Um…" John slowly put down his hand, which was raised from lobbing the rabbit. "It's… yours?"
Sherlock's eyes flitted back to the chocolate. "Mine?" He whispered, as memories flooded back.
"MINE!" Six year old Sherlock screamed.
Mycroft, his fifteen year old brother grinned and bit the rabbit's head off. "Not anymore." He announced with a face full of chocolate.
"I hate you, you fat creep!"
"Don't call me names." His brother leaned forward and whispered in his ear. "Or the east wind will carry you away."
An hour later…
Cross legged in his pirate ship (bed), Sherlock pondered his problem. Every year, for as long as he could remember, his brother would steal his Easter chocolates. This had to stop, otherwise who knows how long it would go on for!
"What do you think I should do?" He asked his first mate, Redbeard.
Redbeard didn't respond, he was a dog.
He turned to his other first mate, Fred. "What do you think I should do?"
Fred didn't respond, he was a skull.
Irritated by his crew's lack of helpfulness, Sherlock buried his face in a pillow. Hiding chocolates didn't work and when it did it was only a temporary solution.
"Sherlock!" His mother called from downstairs. "Dinner's ready."
The boy stayed silent and stared at the white of his pillow.
"Captain Sherlock! There be dinner downstairs for you, matey."
He smiled, tumbled off his bed and made his way downstairs.
Ten minuets later…
Redbeard was squirted with a water pistol.
"Don't attack Redbeard! He doesn't like it!"
"He was stealing food from the table, sweetheart." Sherlock's mother said soothingly.
"So was Mycroft!" The boy exclaimed.
"Mycroft's not a dog."
"Are you sure?"
Mycroft quickly slapped his brother upside the head.
"Ow!" Sherlock responded by whacking the teenager's hand with a spoon.
"Sherlock, don't hit your brother."
"He hit me first!"
"I don't care."
Five minutes later…
"Negative reinforcement." His father explained. "Redbeard had to learn eating human food is a bad thing, that's why he got squirted. Do you understand now?"
A smile began to appear on the six year old's face. With a plan forming in his head, he walked off towards his room. His father however, stood there for a few moments thoroughly creeped out and confused.
Five hours later…
Sherlock snuck into the kitchen, with Fred tucked under his arm. He plan was brilliant, Fred thought so as well!
Purposefully striding to the fridge, he carefully opened it. On the top shelf, there were two baskets full of Easter chocolates. Standing on his tiptoes and Fred, he removed a big red egg from the basket labeled "Sherlock".
Closing the fridge, he sort out the next ingredient of his revenge. After a few moments of searching he located… wasabi paste!
Unwrapping the hollow egg, he carefully made a hole and then squeezed in as much wasabi as he could. He then recovered it and placed it back in the fridge.
Turning to Fred, he grinned. "The trap is set."
Sherlock giggled, then laughed, then laughed like a maniac. Then he headed off to bed, unaware that he had be watched.
Sherlock's father stared after his son, the bottle of wine he came to get, forgotten. How long has his six year old owned a skull?
Seven hours later…
Mycroft snuck into the kitchen, he brother was not awake, meaning his chocolate was up for grabs.
He'd eaten three eggs before coming across the "special" one.
Fourteen seconds later…
Sherlock snuggled into his blankets, smirking as Mycroft's screams flooded through the house.
John stared in confusion. "Sherlock why are you holding an Easter bunny above your head, like you're from the Lion King?"
His roommate didn't respond. Turned to Mycroft for help, he saw an even weirder sight. The great Mycroft Homes, had moved as far away from his brother as possible and was using his umbrella as a shield.
"What is wrong with you two?"
"Mineeeeeeeeee…"
WARNING: DO NOT PUT WASABI IN EASTER EGGS!
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