Summary: Why does Holmes hate chocolate? Humorfic.
____Hey people! Its my first time writing here in the Sherlock category. I thought about this plot when I was eating breakfast, and I just needed to type it out. I've been a fan of Sherlock for years now, so I finally decided to pick my pen up and write again. Hope you like it, please review and leave comments! :) Okay, enough rambling, here's the story.
---- I don't own Sherlock Holmes... or any of them for that matter. Oh well.
"Sherlock! I can't believe you took everything for yourself... again!" A little boy named Mycroft fumed at his little brother, seeing that he had already eaten all the packs of chocolate that their parents had sent home for both of them as a gift.
"It was really good you know!" Sherlock exclaimed, raising his little arms in the air to emphasize his point. Mycroft sat on the floor, looking intently at his brother. Then, a sly smirk crossed his features.
"Do you know why chocolate is colored brown?" He asked him, picking up one of the candy wrappers that littered the kitchen floor.
"No. Why?" Sherlock's eyes sparkled. He loved learning new things.
"Because, the main ingredient is mud." Mycroft tossed the wrapper away, a smug smile on his face. "Do you know what's in mud?"
"Isn't that he stuff we walk on.. and the horses...?"
"Exactly that mud."
"But, mud doesn't taste like this!" Sherlock frowned and his little eyes bulged. "T-that's impossible, Mycroft! Don't trick me!" His eyes darted over to the empty candy wrappers.
"Do you have any other explanation why chocolate has this dark brown tint, while all the other candies do not? I should know, I'm older than you."
"Hmph." The little one admitted in defeat, crossing his arms stubbornly. "Why would they make candy out of mud? That's insanity!"
"And that's exactly why they say we must never have too much of it. It only tastes good because they process it and dump millions of tons of sugar to make it sweet. Plus, where do you think all our garbage goes?"
Sherlock's eyes widened and started to tear up. "Mycroft... I... I ate the chocolate mommy and daddy sent us. Will I get sick?"
"Uhh... not if you go to bed right now." He answered, unsure of what to say to his panicking little brother. Sherlock quickly picked up all the wrappers and tossed them into the garbage. He then grabbed a glass and drank cup after cup of water, and finally he darted up into his room, crying.
"Ah! He didn't eat this last piece." Mycroft picked it up and tossed the contents into his mouth, smiling to himself.
"WAAAH!" Sherlock came flying down the stairs and right into his mother's arms, almost knocking her down into the sofa. "Mother, I ate the chocolate you sent! I ate all of it--- all of it!"
His mother smiled and kissed the top of his head. "Oh, sweetheart, it's okay. I'll just give Mycroft his own box so he can have some too."
"DON'T!" He screamed, furiously clutching at his mother's sleeve. "Do you know what that infernal piece of junk is made of? Please, no more chocolate!"
"Why? I though you loved chocolate!"
"NO! I DON'T! It's made of mud and garbage and horse p---"
"Enough, Sherlock." His mother laughed. "Don't worry, I'll deal with Mycroft later."