Sherlock looked at his brother through the fish bowl, teary – eyed. His eyes narrowed. His chubby 3 year old cheeks grew a deep red.
"You killed him!"
"What?" said the older boy, not really listening.
"You killed Mr. Fishy!"
"No way Sherlock, I didn't kill your fish. I love fish."
Sherlock had seen Mycroft at the seafood place devouring innocent fish. The poor fish had never known that they would be eaten by his greedy and fat older brother.
"No! You hate fish! You eat them and make them become part of your fat butt!" Sherlock's brow furrowed as he glared up at his older brother.
"I didn't kill your fish! Back off!" Mycroft shoved Sherlock into the wall. Then, he got a murderous look from his little brother.
Sherlock screamed, "Mommmmm- my!"
Their mother came rushing in from the kitchen. From the volume of her youngest son's scream, she was almost sure one of the boys was dying. Instead she found Sherlock snarling at Mycroft, with all of his teeth.
"Whats going on boys? You almost gave Mommy a heart attack."
Sherlock looked up at her with puppy eyes and his bottom lip sticking out. "Mycroft killed Mr. Fishy. And he said he didn't."
"I didn't!"
"See, Mommy look into his eyes, he's guilty."
She looked from Sherlock to Mycroft to the dead fish in its bowl. "Sherlock, sweetie, I think your fish died naturally. They don't live very long. That's not your brother's fault."
"But..., I checked his bio- signs this morning. He was perfectly healthy!"
His mother did not believe him, because she didn't know that he actually had the medical equipment to measure the vital signs of a goldfish. "Sherlock, I don't think Mycroft would kill you fish. Go wash up for dinner now. We're having lobster."
The thought of any type of creature that swam with fish, being eaten and added to the fat on his older brother was too much to bear. He broke into tears.
He would not come out of his room for dinner. He was even wearing a gas mask to keep out the scent of lobster.
After about 10 minutes, he got bored. He went into the sitting room, and examined the fish lying belly – up in the water. Sherlock just didn't understand. He had been taking good care of Mr. Fishy. He fed it, changed its water, and checked its bio – signs every day. Surely there was a killer in the house.
He looked at everything that could have been near Mr. Fishy's bowl. After everything he looked at proved clean, he began to get frustrated. Then, he saw something bright under the couch. He picked it up. It was an empty pill capsule. He sniffed it. Cyanide.
Sherlock's eyes widened. He'd figured it out. This is how Mr. Fishy died. He should have known. Mycroft had tons of Cyanide pills. He used them on kids that bullied him at school. But his parents would never believe him if he told them of his discovery, so Sherlock would have to punish Mycroft himself.
He walked into the kitchen. His family was just finishing up eating their lobster. Sherlock wrinkled his nose.
"Hey, sweetie, want to join us for desert? Its nothing that swims, I promise." His mother smiled at him and went to grab the cake.
Mycroft smirked at him. Sherlock smiled. His older brother really didn't know what was coming.
"Alright everybody, eat up!" Sherlock's mother said cheerfully as she passed around lemon cake. Sherlock grinned. All he needed now was a distraction.
"Look! The house across the street is getting raided by pirates!" Everyone in his family turned to look. Sherlock slipped something into Mycroft's cake.
"Made you look!" Sherlock smiled innocently. Mycroft rolled his eyes and stuffed his face. Sherlock cackled. His parents looked at him, concerned.
Then, Mycroft started to gasp for air. He clutched his throat like he was choking. Their father ran around and started to do the Heimlich.
"I don't think he's choking, Sherlock said sweetly, "He's suffocating from oxygen depletion due to lack of cellular respiration. From Cyanide poisoning." Sherlock giggled and gave his most adorable three – year old smile.
Mycroft was rushed to the hospital. He was very close to death, but Sherlock had made the dosage small enough to give the doctors time to save him. He didn't want his brother to die, just to learn his lesson.
Sherlock walked into the emergency room to see his brother. He walked up to Mycroft's bed. Their eyes locked.
"I'm sorry I killed your fish."
"I'm sorry I poisoned you."
"Forgiven?"
"Forgiven."