Hello!
I have tried Sherlock fanfics in the past, and wasn't overly pleased with them, but this time around I feel that I have had more success. I can't wait to get some feedback so that I can explore this fandom further. Before we begin however, there are a few things you should probably know:
This is a story of fluff. It's that simple. Don't think too hard.
This story follows Sherlock and Mycroft as young boys and the trouble they get into with "normal" and "boring" people. In actuality, the two Holmes brothers have a seven-year age difference. The story suggest that they are slightly closer in age, however. For them to interact more, I needed them in the same school. The school is one that continues from elementary years into high school, so you can interpret them as you like. I think that Mycroft is about 13 and Sherlock is about 9 in the first stories. The story is here to be entertaining and fun; that's what really counts.
I am a John/Mary and Sherlolly shipper. It doesn't really make much of difference in this story, so it's perfectly OK to read if you don't agree.
I'm not a 100% master on British schooling, housing, cultural, etc. Sorry if I slip up. The story is what I've worked hard to create here. Nobody's perfect.
I am interested in starting a more serious Sherlock story in the future, so please give me some feedback and tell me what you think! I always ask for reviews, because by knowing what I've done right and what I can fix is what make me a better writer.
Whew! That was a lot to cover. I'm done now though! Without further ado….
Yours Truly,
RiversAndRoses
…
"John, I told you, I can't waste time playing with your insolent child, I have a case!"
Sherlock Holmes huffed with unnecessary volume, almost matching that of the bawling child whom he had abandoned on the floor. He stared down at the baby and narrowed his eyes, as if the innocent child had sat in his armchair, or disturbed his sock index or something. He ruffled his hair with satisfaction, and began to pace briskly around the room.
"If you're so busy with your case, why have you been moping around all afternoon?"
John Watson scooped up his daughter and began to bounce her gently on his shoulder. He rolled his eyes at his former flat mate, and best friend, silently wondering which of the two were more childish. He was nearly sure he knew the answer, but would never say.
Sherlock didn't give so much as a response, but rather a grunt of sorts, which could be interpreted any number of ways. John gazed longingly at his open laptop and sighed. Between Sherlock's constant complaining and Evelyn Grace, who was now beginning to crawl, he hadn't uploaded a blog post in weeks.
A knocking at the door brought Mrs. Hudson to the room.
"Oh, little Evie!" She squealed, not unlike every other time she had come across the little Watson. "She's getting so big! And moving around too, I see!"
John smiled at that. "She is, isn't she?"
The now calm baby grinned and puffed out her little cheeks as Mrs. Hudson oohed and aah-ed over her. Behind her, John stood to greet his lovely wife, who had joined them in the flat. Mary was tired, with makeup failing to hide the dark circles under her eyes. She smiled though, and brushed a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear.
They embraced. John could see Sherlock cast his eyes downward.
He was feeling neglected. And rightly so. John had gotten little time to acknowledge the consulting detective whilst caring for his family. It was about time he set aside some time.
"Sherlock." John looked over, but the tall, thin figure had faded from the scene.
"I'm going out!" A voice called, and then the door slammed loudly. John peeked behind the curtain, seeing the man in a dark coat and flipped up collar walking briskly down the dimly lit Baker Street.
"I'm going to take Evie home."
Mary interrupted politely. John smirked to himself, realizing how difficult it was for her to pry the little girl away from Mrs. Hudson. "She's hungry, and its nearly naptime."
Upon kissing his wife and child goodbye, and enjoying a brief chat with the landlady, John Watson finally sat down.
It had been a while since he'd sat down at this desk.
He shook the mouse to start up his laptop and rested his fingers neatly on the computer.
He knew exactly what to say.
April 21st, 2016
I have often wondered about Sherlock Holmes.
Even now, as I begin to settle with my own family, and watching both joyfully and fearfully as my own child grows up, I wonder.
I imagine that a life at the Holmes household, with two little boys playing deductions, could never be quite peaceful. But pleasant all the same. And entertaining.
Very entertaining.
My interest had inspired me to speak with both Sherlock and Mycroft, and even the Holmes parents, to gather an idea of the kinds of trouble a grade school Holmes could get into.
I have a feeling that the result could be quite an enjoyment.
...
"Ma'am, I am here to speak with you about the matter of your son."
A tall, thin woman in a fitted black skirt and pale blue cardigan narrowed her piercing, sharp green eyes at a very weary Mrs. Holmes, who, in response to the statement shook her head and rubbed her temple. They were both sitting in the Holmes family living room, which looked, most plainly, like a once properly renovated and stylish sitting room, but had been worn by dog fur, little boys, and the daily collapse of the Holmes parents after finally putting two mischievous boys to bed.
"Which one?" She managed to venture.
Mrs. Caroline Eleanora Scott tucked a strand of short red hair back into her tight bun and straightened her thick framed black glasses very matter-of-factly on her stout little nose.
"Well?" Mrs. Holmes repeatedly impatiently.
She raised her unnaturally dark eyebrows and gave a sweet smile with her glossy red lips.
"Both of them."
Mrs. Holmes sighed and slid back into the couch, stuffing a pillow into her face with exuberant grace. Mrs. Scott waiting patiently as the other woman took a moment to groan loudly in an oddly masculine fashion.
"Good God, what have they done this time?"
It was a rhetorical question, as Mrs. Scott had gathered from the previous 27 times she had visited this house over the past academy school year.
After a few moments of uncomfortably listening to Mrs. Holmes rants of, "Where did I go wrong?" and "What will we do with those two?", she gestured for the other lady to do some explaining.
"Well," she said with a smile while grabbing her clipboard, happy to have the floor. "On the fourth of April, that was precisely 2 days ago, Sherlock Holmes proceeded to tell a guest at the open house that they ought to tell their daughter that they were having an affair with the plumber next door."
Mrs. Holmes frowned, hiding a smirk with the pillow which she still cuddled close to her face.
"Soon after, Mycroft Holmes proceeded to approach the woman and apologize about his brother, and claiming that it was clear from her new hair style and Saint Bernard dog fur on her purse that it was the barber, whom she'd been sleeping with, not the plumber."
Mrs. Holmes winced at that. Mycroft was always so unpleasant when he confronted Sherlock that he was wrong.
"At that point," she continued. "They both asked to examine her boots in order to prove their point."
"Dear lord, they've been playing deductions again." Mrs. Holmes shook her head and sighed. "I've told them that its good for them to play such games and stretch the magnificent capacity of their minds, but I swear I tell them every time, NOT IN PUBLIC!"
Mrs. Holmes put down her pillow and straightened herself, glaring at Mrs. Scott now.
"And did anyone confront them about the incident?"
"Yes." Mrs. Scott frowned. "They told the principal that she was not fit to ask such things of them, since she was a smoker, and the tobacco she consumed was likely hurting her thought processes."
"Well good for them!" Mrs. Holmes exclaimed, falling back into the pillows and crossing her arms. "I'm sure a good amount of people would have strong opinions if they knew that their child's principal was using drugs."
Completely ignoring the remark, Mrs. Scott replied, "I talked to them myself, telling them they should know better, and even more importantly why they would have done it."
Mrs. Holmes stayed silent. Mrs. Scott sneered.
"They replied with the same thing at the exact same time, not even a glance at the other brother."
Exasperated, Mrs. Holmes gave in.
"Alright. What did they say?"
"Bored."
…
I hope you enjoyed! I am really excited about the potential of this story. I plan on following the adventures of the young Holmes brothers as a compilation for John's blog, while throwing in some current day scenes with all of our favorite characters, including my own version of the Watson's daughter, Evelyn Grace. If you have a thought about some sort of trouble which the brothers could get into, post a review, and I will be delighted to use ideas in the stories. I will give shout-outs to whomever the idea comes from. Thanks for your support, and don't forget to review!
The Game is On!
Yours Truly,
RiversAndRoses