"Sherlock, stop following me. Find your own eggs." Mycroft rolled his eyes, basket in hand, as he plucked yet another egg from the shrub.

"You have them all." It was Sherlock's first hunt, age four, and he thought the best thing to do would be to follow Mycroft—after all, Mycroft was very observant and was probably going to help.

"Yes, because you're not finding your own."

"But I did find them, they're in your basket."

Mycroft looked down to find three eggs in Sherlock's basket, and three fewer in his own. "Sherlock, those were mine."

"You told me to find eggs to put in my basket, and I found some eggs." Sherlock's peculiar silver eyes looked both confused and pained. He knew he'd done something wrong, but he'd been following the rules to the letter, so why was Mycroft upset? And why was Mycroft now taking the eggs he'd found out of Sherlock's basket and putting them back in his own? "My, those are mine! I found them!"

"You found them in my basket and you stole them." He lifted his own basket out of Sherlock's reach to prevent further theft.

"Well, then, you stole them from the plant!" Sherlock stamped his foot. "I found them. Those were my eggs! Give them back!"

Their mother had been watching from a distance and now ran over as Sherlock started crying.

"I know you're not really upset enough to cry," Mycroft hissed.

"Am too," Sherlock bawled.

"What's wrong?" Their mother looked between the boys, trying to figure out who was at fault for her youngest son crying and her eldest's anger.

"Sherlock stole my eggs."

"Mycroft stole my eggs!"

Mummy Holmes, as Mycroft's friends called her, sighed. "Mycroft, you go first."

"My always goes first," Sherlock sniffled, but he was ignored.

"Sherlock is following me around everywhere. He took eggs straight out of my basket and put them in his own. I was simply getting them back."

"Okay, and Sherlock?"

"Mycroft won't let me keep the eggs I found. You said find eggs. I found eggs."

"In my basket."

Mummy Holmes sighed again. "Sherlock, if Mycroft gives you three eggs, will you look for eggs somewhere else?"

The four-year-old hesitated and rubbed his nose. "Y…yes."

"Promise?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now Mycroft, give him three eggs."

Mycroft grumbled, but did as he was told and gave Sherlock the eggs he'd stolen earlier. Instantly, Sherlock stopped crying and started grinning, running off with a giggle. Mycroft left in the opposite direction, sighing. Their father came up behind Mummy Holmes and laughed.

"Clare, I think you've been conned."