Sherlock Holmes, seven years old, jumped down from the shelf on which he was not meant to be climbing.
"Avast, ye scurvy dogs! Captain Sherlock, scourge of the seven seas has arrived in port! Give me all your booty!" He was brandishing his cardboard sword, tricorn hat jauntily placed on his head. His older brother rolled his eyes, and without even looking up from his book, pointed his umbrella at Sherlock.
"Bang. There. I've shot you with my umbrella-gun."
"That's not right, Mycroft. They didn't have spies with secret guns when there were pirates."
"I think you'll find that they did."
Sherlock stamped his foot. "But not like spies spies. Not like John Steed."
"To be fair, the modern portrayals of both spies and pirates are horribly romanticized." Mycroft sat up and slid a thin strip of paper in his book.
"Well, I can be a pirate if I want to." Sherlock crossed his arms.
"Then I shall be a spy." Mycroft smiled a little as he suddenly charged for the younger Holmes, who ran off giggling. Mycroft was starting to enjoy himself, and he hid behind a curtain. He heard the sound of Sherlock's little bare feet padding across the hardwood flooring, slowing down as he realized Mycroft was nowhere in sight, and then speeding up again as he made for the curtain. Mycroft felt the jab of the cardboard sword into his stomach and heard a cry of "Aha! Take that, you government scum!"
Mycroft's plan was in place and he outstretched his arms to trap Sherlock in the curtain. "And now you'll tell us where you've hidden the cache of microdots!"
"Never," came a muffled cry of playful defiance.
"I have ways of making you talk, Captain Sherlock!" He knew exactly where Sherlock was ticklish and instantly started tickling him.
"I've faced hordes of—" Sherlock couldn't get out his statement about having faced death time and time again at the hands of oppressive governments. "Mycr—"
"Where have you hidden the microdots?" Mycroft was smiling now, a broad grin on his face.
Sherlock's giggles were punctuated by statements of defiance and the odd pirate grunt. "I'll never tell you!"
Their mother stuck their head around the corner. "It's time for dinner—what are you doing?"
"Punghfts nd spughs!"
"Pirates and spies, apparently." Mycroft stood up and took the curtains off his younger brother. Sherlock was bright red in the face and his hat had fallen off. He put it back on his head.
"It's in the shipwreck lagoon," he said as a parting shot before running to dinner.