A/N: So this happened. Also I suck at titles. I don't know what it is but it's there, let me know what you guys think
Beth Lestrade-Holmes was woken by the sounds of her home coming to life. The sound of the kettle, rummaging in the fridge, digging out plates. She listened to the gentle breathing of her husband, beside her, the chance to lay in being a rarity with him.
This narrowed the culprit down to two.
If she strains she can her cereal being poured in- sounds loud -those disgusting sugary O's, then.
Alright, her youngest woke her, zedhead. She glanced at the clock on her bedside table, 7:45.
Unusually early for Rufus to be awake, but deciding to drop it for now, she turned over and enjoyed her morning.
*.*
He was freaking starving. It's logic really, going without dinner yesterday, but then he fell asleep at a really weird time- probably because he hadn't slept in over 24 hours. Rufus blames it on Dad, he probably inherited this, he's not sure if that's possible, but he pretends it is, it gives him and Dad something in common.
John- now John and Dad were like the same person, forever deducing and working things out, it was an unspoken eventuality that John Mycroft Holmes would someday takeover as Worlds Greatest Detective.
But Rufus, he just wants to make music. He loves it, music is what he eats and breathes, without it he has no life.
Music and theatre were his only passions but he's not sure where he gets it from.
The night before last his parents were working late and his brother at a friend's, probably doing homework, Rufus didn't sleep at all that night. He sold his bed and spent all his savings on an old baby grand piano.
Having spent days at the theatre, not too far from his school, he learnt to play a great many instruments, piano, guitar, cello, basically anything. Madame Tussard called him a prodigy and everyone seems very impressed with him- Rufus Matthew Holmes, musical genius- but he's never actually told his parents about his afternoons there. Rufus thought that if they really wanted to know, they'd work it out themselves.
He had spent all night moving his new piano into his room, having paid his friends any money (or food) he had left to help him carry it. Having finally got it in it had to be tuned, something he had no problem with having learned from the guys at the theatre how to.
He now slept on a hammock that was slung from one end of the, very messy, room to the other. Clothes, books and homework being scattered across the poster filled room. His electric guitar stood in the corner and his bass was tucked behind it.
He hadn't slept a wink and ordered in a pizza, spending the night playing his new baby grand.
Now, all he wanted was coffee and cereal and then to get out of the house, go see his friends.
*.*
Sherlock listen to his wife's breathing beside him, choosing to block out the sounds of Rufus making breakfast. The sun filtered into the room and he was happy.
He rolled over and smiled at Beth, brushing aside the hair in her face.
He was a very lucky man, he had a beautiful wife, and two sons who made him very proud.
John, was a keen young detective and he had high hopes for the young man. The boy was still seventeen, but had already been a huge help to a few cases. Once he finishes school he would be a fine contribution to crime fighting.
Whereas his youngest, Rufus, he was a fine musician and actor, much like himself at that age. The boy thought he didn't notice him, but Holmes did, and he was very proud, even if he didn't always show it.
*.*
John woke up to his alarm at 7 am, sharp. He got up, dressed and made his way to his desk. He was writing his exams soon and wanted to do well, breakfast could wait.
After his brother turned ten he decided that he could not stand sharing a room any longer, and moved into Mrs Hudson's old flat. Having stylised it more to his taste, John was quite content living here.
He was always busy with a case, or some type of experiment so chance to study and catch up with homework was much appreciated.
John took after both his parents in a big way, having his father's want to know everything and his mother's love for exercise and routine.
He wasn't busy for very long when he heard the familiar thump from upstairs. His twerp brother was awake then, idiot, that kid fell out of bed every morning- how he was not seriously injured yet was beyond him. The thump was different today- John reminds himself to look into why.
After covering the last of the chapter he was working on, he decides to head up for breakfast, his clock says eight o'clock, his family should be awake now.
After changing into his day clothes, he goes upstairs into the main flat. On the way he was almost knocked down by something smaller, moving very fast.
"Sorry bro, I'm headin' out- I left a note!"
John turned back to watch his younger sibling rush outside, clad in wrinkled jeans, an un-ironed shirt and the same hoodie he has been wearing all year carrying a hoverboard.
"Mum and Dad are going to kill you." he called after him.