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Still a Brat
Sherlock ran down the street, through the pouring rain. He had forgot his slicker at home and was chilled to the bone, not that he cared. The excitement of the case made the child forget about everything else.
Next to no one was on the streets due to the fact that it was raining so harshly, which was perfect. The young, eight year old detective needed to get to the place quickly and then whoever he would find there was likely to be the killer. It would be the perfect time to find out where the hideout was.
Suddenly a hand clasped on his shoulder. Scared and still running off of adrenaline, Sherlock looked up. The dark figure that was nearly impossible to make out because of the rain had him caught. "H-hi." he mumbled nervously.
"Just what are you doing out here, young one?" The man asked kindly.
"Just going to a friend's house, officer." Sherlock answered as innocently as he could.
The man didn't believe him, "I doubt your brother would let you out in this weather, Sherlock."
The lad cursed himself for not thinking of that sooner, he was smarter than that. "Oh, um…"
The man took off his coat and wrapped the younger one in it. He would rather be cold and wet than let a mere child get sick. "I'm taking you home," The man was well familiar with the Homes residence, mostly due to the little one before him. "Your brother had already called us to find you a while ago."
Sherlock pouted and sniffled, the warmth of the jacket making him notice the chilling cold now. "But, the murderer of-"
"Hush," The man said firmly, picking the child up. "The police are more than capable in handling these things. Children like you don't need to worry."
Sherlock crossed his arms and sulked, "No one listens to me."
"One day they will," The officer chuckled and placed the boy in his car that they had just arrived at.
For the rest of the ride, which was quite long as the child had wandered far from home, Sherlock pouted and tried to convince the man to let him continue his little mission and most importantly to not tell his brother where he was.
In the end, Sherlock lost on all accounts. He had sat, trying to warm up with a blanket on the couch, while the kindhearted police officer explained what happened. No details were spared, which in the child's opinion could've been forgotten about.
Sherlock deducted very quickly that his brother wasn't pleased at all. He watched Mycroft's face grow more and more displeased with each passing detail in the man's little story. The child knew his little bottom was going to feel it soon.
Mycroft thanked the officer for bringing back his occasionally obsessive, little brother and apologized for the trouble. He was lucky to catch the two returning home, he had been out himself looking just moments before they had arrived. The teen had thought that he needed a different pair of shoes since the pair that he was wearing were soaked the entire way though.
The little buddle looked up at the teenager, still shivering a bit. Mycroft hoped that the child hadn't caught a cold from his little adventures. "Come on Sherlock, let's get you changed." The boy really need out of his outfit if he was ever going to ward off being sick, this being the second time that Mycroft had asked. He was refused the first time and couldn't bother to fight at the moment.
"No," Sherlock said defiantly. "I don't want to." He pouted a bit by crossing his arms.
"Sherlock be reasonable." Mycroft said. "You'll get sick if you continue wearing those and it is nearly bedtime." Though an early bedtime wouldn't be a terrible thing either.
"I said I don't want to," Sherlock snapped. He wouldn't admit it, but the scarf that he wore acted like a security blanket to him.
Mycroft picked up the child, "You better mind that attitude because you already have a spanking coming for running away."
The lad kicked his feet, "No!"
Mycroft was very use to his brother's antics and was completely unfazed by the slight tantrum. He found himself a chair to sit in for the punishment that was about to commence, already he had grabbed his Mummy's well wore slipper for the child's bottom.
The child's bottom was bared quickly and soon loud smacks filled the room along with the whine of a child and the lecturing from said child's older brother. "Sherlock, what were you thinking?" The teen was still only using his hands though.
"It was for a case, Mycroft!" Eight year old Sherlock Homes kicked his legs and squirmed with all his might in response to the smacks that were landing on his bare bottom.
An extremely sharp smack landed on the youngsters tender upper thigh, "I keep telling you that your safety is more important."
"Ow!" The boy shouted, angry that his brother didn't understand how important this had been. The case that he was working on could've possibly been cracked. Surely finding a murder is more important than the fact that he had been wondering the streets late at night alone. "I could've solved it."
Mycroft tapped the slipper lightly against Sherlock's already pink bottom. "That's not the issue here Sherlock." And with that, the slipper made its first trip down on the little bum.
Sherlock couldn't help the tears that were breaking free, he was still only a little boy after all and his bum hurt a lot. "I was fine!"
Mycroft didn't agree at all as he continued to pepper the bottom with sharp smacks from the slipper. "And if the murder found you, would you still be? Sherlock you need to be more careful."
The boy hated being lectured, but he hated spankings even more. He sobbed and beat his fist on the chair. Sherlock's red arse was burning terribly.
With a few more brisk smacks, Mycroft finished. He set the slipper aside, he knew that it was a real stinger from his days being Sherlock's age. Though he could safely say that the reasons that he was getting his bottom smacked wasn't because he was chasing after a murder.
Gently, the teen fixed the clothing over the sore bottom. He shook his head and thought about how crazy Sherlock really was, but he loved the little bugger anyways.
Sherlock rubbed his eyes as he wiggled to get up. He always whined when Mycroft would try to cuddle with him. He was going to be a famous detective, Sherlock does not cuddle.
Being the big mean brother that he was, Mycroft always made him sit for a few extra minutes. When Sherlock asked, because he couldn't possibly think of a reason other than extra punishment, Mycroft said something about him needing the comfort. Sherlock said it was bullocks, but it wasn't worth the extra smacks.
Mycroft held the child closely, "You're still a brat Sherlock, but I will always care about you."
"I am going to break your umbrella someday, Mycroft." The child grumbled and glared at his brother's possession that laid against the chair. Seeing as that was all he could do to get back right then.
Mycroft rolled his eyes and gave Sherlock a sight smack on his thigh. "None of that now." He scolded lightly.
"Ow," Sherlock mumbled but quieted down, he didn't want to be spanked again. He fiddled with the buttons on Mycroft's jacket, just waiting out the time. His lip was out in a bit of a pout and a few tears were still dripping down his face.
After a few minutes, the oldest brother figured it needed to be bedtime. "Now, how about some dry pajamas and a warm bath?" Mycroft asked.
Sherlock nodded, but his fingers were still tight around his scarf. He felt cold, other than his hot bottom, and icky because of the wet cloths. The little boy was tired as well, running through the rain, receiving a spanking with the dreaded slipper, and lastly staying up a bit past bedtime would do that to anyone. He wasn't even aware that he had laid his head on Mycroft's chest.
The teen shook his head in wonder, did the child really think he didn't notice the scarf? It was the only reason he hadn't forced the boy to change before. "Now then, best get you warm so that Mummy doesn't worry about you."
Sherlock nodded slightly, he would again to get the criminal and prove to everyone he knew what he was doing. As for tonight, bed was sounding much better.