Sherlock cuddled his teddy bear as he lay in bed, thinking about tomorrow. The first time he would meet all of his relatives. What had Mycroft called it? A…family reunion? Yes, that was right. Mycroft, eighteen, knew all about everything, whereas Sherlock knew almost nothing. At age six, Sherlock was actually very smart. He had skipped a grade in school and was now a first grader. His only friend was John Hamish Watson, who didn't care that Sherlock was smarter than he was. Mycroft was barely a brother. He was, however, better than Sherlock's parents, Emma and Dave. Mycroft had come home especially to take care of Sherlock. He knew how bad his parents could be. They mostly ignored Sherlock. But who cared? At least he had a family.
Sherlock's eyes snapped open at 7 a.m. with the beep of his alarm. He jumped out of bed and changed into a blue t-shirt with a pirate on it, and jeans, discarding his pajamas on the floor. He rushed down the hall to wake Mycroft, who preferred sleeping in.
"Mycroft, Mycroft! Wake up!" Sherlock jumped on Mycroft's bed. "Unh. Whatimesit?" Mycroft asked. "It's Saturday! The family thing is today! Get up!" Sherlock pushed Mycroft for emphasis. "Mycroft, please? I'm hungry." Sherlock changed his voice to a whiny one, which he knew would annoy Mycroft. "Surely you must have learned how to cook something at college. I'm hungry."
Mycroft sat up and looked at Sherlock. "Can't you do something other than whine? You're giving me a headache." Sherlock grinned. "At least you have a reason to get up now."
A knock on the door interrupted Sherlock. Emma stood there, all ready to go. "Mycroft, get up and make your brother some breakfast. We leave in twenty minutes." She turned on her heel and walked out the door. Mycroft sighed. "All right, go to the kitchen. I'll be there in two minutes."
Sherlock slid down the hallway in his socks, his curly hair bouncing as he turned a corner. He laughed, blissfully unaware of the pains family could bring.