This story is about Sherlock's life before the series.
I had this idea due to a roleplaying site that I am on and play Sherlock.
The story will most likely focus on the relationship between Sherlock and Mycroft and how they became archenemies as well as what led Sherlock down the path to become the world's only Consulting Detective.
And here is the story:
Chapter One
Mycroft, age seven, sat in the hospital, his legs swinging nervously as he waited with his father. Six months ago, he had been informed that he was going to have a younger sibling. Of course, this had been no surprise to the boy, simple observations had led him to come to this conclusion. Although his parents were not aware of it, Mycroft had been perfecting his observations, so he could deduce information from his surroundings. It proved to be useful for keeping out of fights and getting large amounts of friends, which gained him a lot of free perks. It also meant that he managed to get on well with the teachers.
The idea of a new addition to the family did not worry Mycroft; he had no opinion on the child. Another sibling could prove useful and a hindrance. However, it was more likely that Mummy and Daddy would look after the child and Mycroft would experience very little difference in his life. So during the past seven months, Mycroft had continued as normal, the only difference was making sure that Mummy was not struggling. From what Mycroft new, mothers had a harder time when they were going to have a child.
But now, just past eight months of Mummy carrying the child, she had been rushed to hospital, with Mycroft and Daddy following. This slightly worried Mycroft, he did not wish for his mother to be harmed from this. But the boy was aware of how advanced medicine was. From what he had heard, there were very few deaths from childbirth. So his younger sibling was also likely to be fine as well. Mycroft looked up at Daddy, who looked like he might want to start pacing again. Mycroft knew that his father believed that Mycroft was unaware of the situation, which was why he was so relaxed. Why should Mycroft be aware of what was happening.
The boy's eyes flickered to the clock. It was nearing two hours since his mother's arrival in hospital and he was beginning to feel hungry. They had missed breakfast and it was a Thursday, so Mycroft was also missing his classes, not something that he enjoyed. Mycroft always attempted to have a perfect attendance, which his teachers adored him for. Mycroft knew that most of the other children took a day or two off when they only had simple signs of a cold, or even faked one to get a break.
"Everything is going to be fine" Daddy said, his face full of worry. The seven year old regarded him.
"Daddy, it does seem that most people manage to survive." Mycroft pointed out, knowing not to use his wider range of vocabulary at this point. During an emotional time, people preferred it if Mycroft acted his age, not older.
"You must be hungry, Croft. Why don't you buy some breakfast from the café?" Daddy said. The café was within the line of site of Daddy, but Mycroft could tell that Daddy did not want to travel even that far from the waiting room.
"What do you want?" Mycroft asked, wondering if his father would be able to stomach food. His father had a delicate digestion system, quite easily affected by change. Mycroft was similar, but he needed his food.
"Maybe some tea." Daddy said and Mycroft gave a nod. Daddy handed the boy some money and Mycroft headed over to the café.
There, the boy looked at all the food, and finally decided on an English breakfast, he was very hungry and some of it could probably be shared with his father, although he doubted that the food would be good quality. Paying for that and tea, peppermint, as that usually calmed his father down, Mycroft headed back, the seven year old noticing that once again his father was pacing.
"I got your tea, Daddy." Mycroft said, holding out the tea, his plate full of breakfast on the other hand, wobbling a bit. Daddy quickly moved to take the cup and Mycroft held the plate with two hands, giving a small sigh before going and sitting down, eating the food. As he had predicted it was terrible, but it would have been worse to have nothing or less. That would mess up his eating habits and order that would end in an uncomfortable stomach. It was those that Mycroft hated. Although Mycroft offered Daddy food, he did not take it and Mycroft was left to finish the meal by himself.
Another hour passed and Mycroft realised that he was beginning to feel worried, when finally the door opened. His Daddy stopped pacing and Mycroft stood up. A nurse was there with a serious face.
"Is she alright? Is the baby alright?" Daddy asked, walking towards the nurse, Mycroft behind.
"Mrs Holmes is in perfect condition, she is just resting at the moment, although she has been asking for you." The nurse said. Mycroft frowned. She was avoiding mentioning the baby. Either it hadn't made it or there wasn't a good chance of it making it through. The baby was nearly a month premature, so Mycroft knew that problems were a possibility. He looked over at Daddy to see his he had noticed this.
"And the baby?" Daddy asked, his voice shaking as if he were too scared to ask.
"You have another son, although he isn't in a good condition. There's a fifty per cent chance that he won't make it through the night.
Thank you for reading!
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