The Fae had been a part of history as long as anybody could remember, their numbers had been particularly high in the Middle Ages. However after the second world war there were less and less of them seen by humans. Some say the hopelessness and cruelty of the war frightening them away to where ever they had come from originally. There were those who maintained that the war killed most of them off instead. Either way, seeing a Fae was now as rare as black opals and red diamonds.
Either way, most people knew about them, from stories or schooling. The Fae are children who were once humans, it was said they found young ones who were unhappy or lonely and befriended them. Over time the children would shun the human world and spend more and more time with their new Fae friends, soon afterwards they would develop special powers, such as invisibility and flight. Their voices would gain an ethereal echo, their skin would gain a strange pale glow and their eyes would fade to silver. Some stories say that Fae had the power to control the elements or read minds, but nobody really knew for sure.
Once a child became a Fae they joined them forever, an eternity of playing games and fun. The only way for a Fae to die was of hopelessness. Without happiness they lost their powers and their eternal youth and they turned to stone and finally to sand. It would certainly explain their lack of numbers, this world was growing increasingly greedy and dark as time went by.
In modern times it was practically unheard of for a human child to be taken as a Fae, Fae were never seen in large cities, they preferred deep forests and places of nature where they could play undisturbed. However once, maybe twice a decade a child would go missing with all the right signs. They were never seen again.
1890
The sound of yelling could be heard even from the outside of the huge manor house. It was a common occurrence in Holmes manor to hear the lord and lady yelling at one another, usually because of something their youngest son had done, today it was because he made yet another tutor quit. The Lord blamed his wife, she raised the boy obviously it was her fault something was wrong with him. While the Lady blamed the Lord saying if he had been present in the boys life he'd of turned out better.
The son in question was sitting on the ground in the garden being berated by his brother for ruining things around here.
"Why can't you just act like a person?" Mycroft scolded, "I've seen street hooligans act with more propriety than you do brother! Look at you, you won't even sit on the chair next to me, instead your ruining perfectly good, very expensive, clothes by sitting on the rocks. Are you even listening to me Sherlock?"
Eight year old Sherlock looked up at his brother, seven years his senior, through his black curls. To be honest he was sitting there to spite his brother, if he were alone he'd use the chair.
"That tutor was stupid, just like the rest of them. I mastered those lessons on my own!" Sherlock argued getting to his feet without bothering to dust himself off, "Nothing he gave me was a challenge!"
"I'm your older brother you are supposed to treat me with respect!" Mycroft argued, "But no, Sherlock you don't respect anybody! Not mother or father or even their guests! Do you know how much money we lost when you offended fathers dinner guests last month?"
"None of them deserve my respect." Sherlock muttered.
"You are utterly hopeless!" Mycroft threw his hands in the air and stormed back inside, Sherlock smirked and headed in the opposite direction down toward the marble fountain in the middle of their large yard.
Sighing he sat down at the marble edge and dipped his fingers in the water, watching the ripples flow outwards. He was bored, he was always bored. Nobody ever presented anything interesting for him and people were dull. He saw from Mycroft his entire life would be planned for him, he hated that.
"Hello."
The voice had the strangest sort of echo to it, Sherlock looked up and saw a girl around his age standing on the small fence that ran around the rose bushes. Three other children were standing with her, they all looked strangely graceful for their age.
"Hello." He replied, Sherlock couldn't contain his grin. They were Fae! He'd never been able to study a Fae up close before, only read about them in books.
"We've watched you lately, you seem lonely." The girl smiled, she had red hair and pale grey eyes, "Want to play with us?"
"I don't really play." Sherlock replied honestly, a boy with brown hair jumped down and ran to him, he seemed glide in the most unnatural way, falling slightly slower than he should of.
"We can do tricks!" He grinned, "Want to see?"
Sherlock nodded enthusiastically. Over that afternoon he learnt the red haired girls name was Lacey and her three friends Jacob, Marth and Celia. They could all disappear when ever they wanted to and they could jump twice as high as Sherlock. Marth even jumped off the top of the garden house, a full two stories but instead of crushing his feet on impact he stopped a few feet above the ground and then gently lowered himself the rest of the way.
Sherlock thought it was fantastic! They each had an individual gift as well, Lacey could make flowers and plants grow, Jacob could summon balls of light and colour that floated in the air, Marth could create small illusions and Celia could mimic any voice or sound she heard. With Sherlock keen intellect they made up manor of games and experiments. Sherlock's favorite was trying to find the other children while they were invisible by using his other senses.
One day he spent studying all the different plants and flowers Lacey could grow, he bought her a book on rare and exotic plants and she grew them all by will, even cacti and rare African blossoms. It was fantastic! Sherlock had never been happier.
One day when he woke up and got dressed he happened to glance himself in the mirror and noticed his green eyes had paled considerably, they were almost grey now. And despite his time spent playing in the garden over the last weeks he had gotten paler instead of darker. Shrugging he walked out into the hall, glancing at one of their maids, suddenly he spotted a strange stain on the side of her smock and without meaning to focused on it. Tiny words, invisible to all but him appeared.
Butter stain, 3 hours old. Accident.
Then the words vanished. Enthralled he walked around the house, deducing the cases for cracks in the walls, rips in the carpet and even facial expressions. Each time his mind deduced everything, he could read people like a book! He could read ANYTHING.
Oh.
Sherlock pondered this for a while, these were all signs he was becoming a Fae just like the history books teach.
"They come to play, then they steal you away."
That's what the stories always said, instead of making him worry this made Sherlock smile. If he became a Fae he could leave this place, no more life plans, no more yelling. He could experiment every day! Plus he would live forever! He could see the future his arrogant brother would never see. Of course being eight years old forever had its disadvantages but they didn't matter. He left to go and find his friends.
...
Mycroft had never gotten on with his little brother, he was unreasonable and stubborn ever since birth. Holmes Manor had been a pleasant place until Sherlock had been born and ruined the peace. Deep down though, Mycroft loved his brother the way he knew he should, but that didn't stop Sherlock infuriating him.
Over the past month though Mycroft had become worried about Sherlock, he disappeared all day and then when he was around he was near silent. The only times he spoke was when forced and the words were always short and bitter.
He knew Sherlock when to the garden every day now, so he waited at the bottom of the stair for his brother to emerge from his room on the second floor. When he did Mycroft felt himself pale, he looked at his brother, really looked. Now he saw what was happening.
Sherlock's skin had a strange glow to it, his eyes were grey not green, he had a slight smile on his face. It was unnerving. Sherlock was playing with Fae! Mycroft was still in shock when his brother passed him and ran off into the garden.
Finally breaking from his stupor the young man bolted out into the garden, finally noticing his brother with other children. Defiantly not human children. Sherlock was saying something to them that made them all smile and jump with excitement, Sherlock did as well. One single smooth movement and his brother was half jumped, half floated onto the very tip of the fountain and was standing there without even having to check his balance.
He jumped down and a girl with red hair summoned a ring of ivy with her hands and stuck it on his head like a crown. Sherlock snorted at the silliness of it, but kept it on anyway. Mycroft knew the signs and he wasn't staying hidden anymore. He ran out and grabbed Sherlock pulling him to his back to his brothers chest, arms holding the front of him so he couldn't get away.
"Let me go Mycroft!" Sherlock yelled, struggling against the man.
"You're not taking him." Mycroft growled, "Sherlock you don't understand what they are-"
"I do!" Sherlock yelled, "They're Fae and they're my friends now let me go with them!"
"Let him go!" Marth demanded, "He belongs with us now."
"No he doesn't, he belongs here!" Mycroft sneered.
"You had your chance!" Lacey argues, "We watched, we saw he wasn't happy. Now he is."
"Let him go, he isn't one of you!" Mycroft hugged Sherlock closer to his chest.
"Yes I am!"
The voice was Sherlocks but it wasn't. It was the voice of his little brother but it echoed and faded like the Fae's did. Quickly he turned his brother rot face him gripping his shoulders. His eyes and skin matched the Fae children, there was no difference.
He'd realized too late.
"I like them. Let me go." Sherlock asked, he was looking at Mycroft strangely, it was more asking now than demanding.
"I can see you feel bad." Sherlock explained as if he'd read his mind. For all Mycroft knew he could of, most Fae had some kind of power.
"He'll be safe?" He asked.
"Of course I will." Sherlock smiled, Mycroft couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Sherlock smile properly.
"Alright." Mycroft relented, letting Sherlock go.
"Let's go." The red haired girl smiled, the small group began to run off toward the rose bushes, Sherlock followed enthusiastically. Before he left however he turned to face Mycroft.
"Thank you."
Then he turned and Mycroft watched as he ran away with the other children and disappeared into thin air as if he'd never been there at all.
Just a little Au I wrote once when I was bored and forgot about.