This was inspired by an amazing fanfic by Medorikoi and the plot idea by NikkiJustTalk, so if it's terrible blame them! Just kidding! I hope you guys enjoy.
Thank you to you both for the inspirations and I hope you guys keep writing, because you're both AWESOME!
Three figures were sat at an oak dining table, and with the curtains closed and the fire spitting, the scene looked fit for a happy family brochure.
Mycroft Holmes sat at the head of the table, his laptop shining blue lights on his aging face. Two little boys sat either side of him, although sat apart they had their feet pressed against each other's, and a large foot stool between them made the connection comfortable.
John and Sherlock were in the midst of their English homework, Sherlock hard at work but John; not so much.
Sherlock's pen swept across his school book furiously and the scratching noise of the frantic nib gave the little boy satisfaction even though the work was tedious. He paused a moment; an oddly phrased question baffling him. Sherlock read it again. Frowned blue eyes scanned the problem with concentration. His brows knitted together more and his lips tightened in a silent stressed pout.
A tiny giggle shook his world. He looked up to John, only to find him hidden behind a wall of heavy book pages. Upon analyzing the blue strips on the leaves and the sheer size of the thing, Sherlock deduced it was a dictionary. But why was John giggling over a dictionary?
Sherlock looked over to Mycroft questioningly, as if he would know more about John than Sherlock did. His guardian had been watching since Sherlock's pen scratching became absent, but obviously had no answer for John's behavior so he smiled knowingly with a look approving Sherlock to investigate and heartlessly abandon his homework.
Without hesitation, Sherlock disregarded his pen and crawled under the table; frantic for some fun.
Mycroft took a breath, intending to tell the boy to walk around the table, but he knew that that amount of time and space away from one another would only break the spell for them. So he simply shook his head and returned to his own work.
Sherlock nudged John, desperate to join in, and the brown eyed boy welcomed him onto his chair. They fitted so well together that they only occupied two thirds of the chair. Then, pushing the massive book between them, John pointed to the word that caused him to giggle, and Sherlock followed with his own bells of laughter. They spent a few more minutes going through pages, sniggering inappropriately and simultaneously: a harmony of sweet and childish sounds.
Then Sherlock's eyes skimmed upon a word and its meaning made him grin. He reached for a pen and determinedly caught John's tiny hand that had been resting on the black and white page. Sherlock tugged the hand neared to him and turned it secretively to draw something brief, and John giggled as the nib tickled his fair skin.
Only when Sherlock lifted his dark hair away and smiled with satisfaction did John look at it.
A tiny flick of pen adorned the back of his hand. Black and thick, carefully outlined several times lay proudly: an apostrophe. The dash of black ink was so prominent on his snowy skin, yet it didn't seem out of place. John lifted a questioning brow at Sherlock. But the other boy smile wickedly, so John shrugged and returned to his search for new words.
Mycroft informed the pair the night was at an end but before following John out the door, Sherlock flicked back to the word and then the boy proudly looked towards John's hand. Mycroft Holmes did not miss this act and straightened himself to investigate the dictionary.
Apostrophe: A punctuation mark used to indicate possession.
Mycroft smiled softly, an expression he was creating often in the company of his wards and understood Sherlock's behaviour. The boy and man had smiled because, although the pen mark will soon fade, the meaning never will.