A/N: Hi there, this is a 5 + 1 format, the five times Sherlock and Mycroft smoked with each other and the one time they specifically chose not to. This first one is a little different to the rest as it deals with kid!lock, in the others they do smoke with each other. Really all of these snapshots are a study of their brotherly relationship.
Disclaimer: All belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and the team behind Sherlock.
Sherlock 9, Mycroft 16.
"Mycroft! Mycroft!" Sherlock is hastily racing around the grounds yelling at the top of his lungs, the freshly cut grass crunching under his tight school shoes leaving flashes of green on the leather as he continues his search. "Mycroft! Mummy said that you'd help me find some earthworms for my project! She said that-" the primary school student stopped suddenly as he raced around the side of the greenhouse at the Holmes family estate to see his big brother and James Hargrove-Chambers, the boy from down the road who liked to come over to the house sometimes when Mummy and Father didn't know he was there, smoking behind the building.
The elder Holmes in one swift movement held the offending item behind his back and away from prying eyes. He wasn't amused and held his face impassively. "Go inside the house, Sherlock, I'll be there in a minute" he instructed clearly but somewhat gently.
The nine year old looked scandalised, his blue eyes wide and his mouth hanging open. "You're smoking! That's bad for you" he explained loftily, with the air of repeating something an adult had said. "Mrs. Harker told us that smoking hurts your lungs and your body and it makes you smell and bad people do it".
James, a tall and lithe boy with slightly long dark hair, was laughing openly which then tapered down into giggles as he took a deep drag, the curly haired one stopped talking and watched with rapt fascination as he inhaled the smoke and then exhaled with a smirk towards his adoring audience.
"James" Mycroft pleaded softly.
"What? He loves it. Only bad people do it, is that right, Sherly?" he said elbowing the older sibling with mirth. Meanwhile Mycroft was busy flushing a roaring shade of pink on his slightly chubby face and looking away from his friend who was a few months older than himself.
"My name is Sherlock! Get it right" the young boy admonished, arms crossing heavily over his chest with a huff. It was bad enough when people got his name correct and they gave him that look, but it was worse when they thought they could do as they pleased with his name.
"And are you bad, Sherlock?" the teen said teasingly, loving the attention he was receiving and the way it made the other squirm to be caught like this.
"Don't talk to him like that" the taller one snapped.
"Mycroft!". They all startled and turned their heads as they heard Mrs. Holmes' voice call out towards them from the distance, behind the trees. "Mycroft, mon cher!"
The addressed seemed torn, clearly not wanting to be found out but not willing to leave these two alone either. "Go home, James. I'll see you tomorrow. Sherlock, go into the greenhouse and get our gloves and shovel ready and we'll find those worms for you. We'll need to be quick though, Father wants me to meet with some of his work colleagues at 7pm sharp". At this he gave his neighbour a tight smile and made off towards the house. He didn't run though, this particular teenager never ran anywhere.
The small science enthusiast had been doing as he was told and was walking off when he heard his name being called.
"Hey, kid. Come here".
The boy stopped and took in details about the brunet like Mycroft had been training him to. Sherlock could do it himself but his brother really helped him make sense of the information more quickly and it was getting easier to do by himself each time. "What?"
The visitor didn't say anything, just held the cigarette out for him to take. He was going to say no but his curiosity got the better of him as it usually did.
"Will I burn myself?" he queried, voice hushed and mind fully focused on the task.
"Not if you don't touch this bit here" he said, indicating to the lit part.
Sherlock looked around to make sure they were alone. "They are bad for you"
"Your brother likes them" was the reply, delivered with the air of reeling in prey.
That seemed to convince him. Anything Mycroft thought was good must be good, and maybe if Sherlock liked them too then he could be more like the big brother he idolised. "So I put it in my mouth and suck on it?"
"Yep, but you have to breath it in" The teen explained in a slow, excitable voice. His smirk should have been a warning.
"Ok". He did what he was told a little too enthusiastically, at first it was easy but then he started coughing. It burned his throat, it floated up and got into his eyes and stung. He dropped the thing and bent over to cough a bit more, the air was getting caught and he was spluttering. He turned and thought about going over to the tap and drinking some water but he couldn't see it through his streaming eyes. Why did people like this?
He kept going and was starting to feel a bit better when he heard fast footsteps and a loud sound he couldn't place straight away. When he could see again he saw James with tears in his eyes, lying on the ground dabbing at his bleeding nose in shock.
Mycroft was standing over him with a bright red face as he shook his hand in pain. "He's only nine, you idiot! How dare you!"
"He asked for it!" the injured one returned, spitting out some more of the red liquid.
"So did you" was the reply as he eyed the blood.
James started to get up, he stumbled back and started to walk off facing them. "You hit me!" he exclaimed.
"A redundant statement, get out". The taller ones eyes darkened. "I don't know what I ever saw in you as company".
The boy's mouth opened in a snarl. "Your brother is just as fucking weird as you, you freak. I'm going to tell everyone what you're like"
The high school student began to walk over to his brother but was facing his classmate. "Don't come around here again. I'll know if you have"
"Fuck no. I'll get you for this!" and then he was running away.
"I don't think you will" the slightly overweight teen said quietly as he began to bend down. Sherlock was drinking from the tap, gulping at the stream. Next thing he knew someone was helping his splash some of the cool liquid at his eyes. "Come on, let's get you inside".
"You hit him" he said with awe. He'd never seen his brother do anything like that. He usually hurt people with his words not his body.
"Yes. And my hand still hasn't stopped hurting. Let that be a warning in case you get any funny ideas about repeating the action"
"It burned my throat" he noted as he allowed himself to be gently led towards the house. "I wonder if smoke from the fires would do the same thing? Or if different types of smoke do different things? Or how you learn to not let it make you cough or go up your nose? Is it a technique or does your body just get used to it? There are a lot of variables, things that you could try. We learned about variables in school and they've been in the books you gave me and ones that are in the library" the child said, innocently, stating some facts and questions that were racing around his brain.
"I don't want you doing it again. I'm disappointed, I told you to go into the greenhouse and you disobeyed me"
"You did it, I saw you".
Mycroft sighed, he gazed down and saw the hunger for knowledge and the trust for him burning brightly in his brother's eyes. "Yes I did but I'm older. Your teacher was right, it's not good for you".
"I'm going to write it down what it felt like and why in my notebook". The little one had a book where he noted his experiments, things that interested him and things he had learned. He gazed up with a small amount of fear, seeking out the other's eyes. "Are you angry with me?" he asked with hesitation.
"Not as angry as I am with myself" he replied honestly, a squirming feeling in his gut.
"I won't smoke again, smoking and drugs are bad for you. I don't know why anyone would do them, Mrs. Harker told us about peer pressure but I don't care about what the children at school are doing so that means I won't do it again".
Mycroft didn't say anything as the one he cared about most then raced off in a game to try to beat him to the house, he'd give him five minutes in there before he'd be forcing them back out there to get the worms for the project. He could handle that.
A/N: Thanks for reading. The next chapter deals with Sherlock in his final year of university with the brothers meeting up at their father's wake.