Hello everyone! It has been a while since I have written a multi-chapter fic, hasn't it? It feels good. Anyway, I have been wanting to write about Sherlock when he was a kid with Redbeard and all that for a long time, and have finally gotten around to it. Yay! Ok, so here is the first chapter. It's really short, but I wanted it that way since it's only meant to be an introduction. As the story progresses and we get deeper into it, the chapter should get longer.
Another thing that I just want to make clear. This is Sherlock before Redbeard was put down, which in my eyes did a lot to him. Sherlock in this story (the beginning, at least) very different from his current self that we all know (and love). So that's why Sherlock is acting like he is.
Yes, ok. Here it is. Enjoy.
A skinny boy of nine years sits cross-legged under a large oak tree, an Irish Settler sprawled on the grass next to him. He's wearing black trousers, matching shoes, and a white button up with the sleeves rolled up part way. Pirate hats sit atop both the boy and the dog's heads. A wooden sword lays several feet away. The boy scratches behind the dog's ears. "Ready to start again, Redbeard?"
Redbeard barks in response. The boy pats the dog's head, then gets to his feet. He adjusts his pirate hat and grabs his sword, raising it above his head.
"Captain Sherlock Holmes and his first mate Redbeard are off to find the treasure of Captain J. Bradstreet.:
Sherlock takes off running, waving the sword around wildly as he goes. Redbeard follows, barely able to keep up with him.
Just as Redbeard finally manages to catch up to Sherlock, the boy collapses on the ground. His hat's fallen off, and he's breathing heavily.
Being a pirate can be tiring.
Suddenly, Sherlock hears a shout off in the distance. It's his mother, who's probably calling him in for lunch. After taking another moment to catch his breath, Sherlock gets up and starts in the direction of the house, Redbeard in tow.
Sherlock enters the dining room and takes a seat at the table. No one acknowledges him as he starts pushing his eggs around his plate; Mother and Mycroft are too busy listening to Father read from the newspaper. This was one of those times that Sherlock wished Redbeard was allowed in the dining room. But no, he had to eat all alone in the kitchen.
"...shot at park in Ireland last week. The child, whose family has asked that his name not be revealed, was playing on a playground in a neighborhood in Ireland when he was shot in the chest by someone hiding in the surrounding wooded area. His mother, sitting at a bench nearby supervising the child, witnessed the whole ordeal. Police are still looking for the person responsible."
Father finished the article, folding up the newspaper and sitting it on the table next to his plate. "Poor boy."
"And so young," Mother added.
Mycroft looked annoyed. "Tragic," he said sarcastically.
"Mycroft!" Mother said sharply.
Sherlock closes his eyes, trying to block out his family's voices. He had gotten an idea about a new pirate game, but couldn't begin constructing it in his head because of all the distractions. So he took a bite of his eggs, grabbed a handful of bacon to give to Redbeard later, then slipped out of his chair and headed up to his room, not bothering to ask to be excused, as he doubted anyone would have heard him.
Once in his room, Sherlock pulls his drawing pad and pencil out from under his pillow. He opens it and flips through it, scanning the sketches of Redbeard and outlines for pirate games. Once he gets to an empty page, Sherlock starts scribbling furiously, trying to get the idea out on paper before he forgets. After he's finished, Sherlock puts the drawing pad and pencil away, and then leaves his room to find Redbeard.
Redbeard barks happily at the sight of Sherlock, and again when he sees the bacon Sherlock has in his hand. The dog gets up, and bounds towards Sherlock, going straight for the bacon. But Sherlock doesn't let him have it that easily. He raises the bacon into the air, waving it teasingly at Redbeard, who is now yelping in frustration. After several more moments of teasing, Sherlock drops the pieces, which Redbeard catches in his mouth.
The boy and his dog sit in the grass, Redbeard chewing the bacon and Sherlock rubbing the dog's back.
"Good boy," Sherlock mutters, now scratching the dog's head.
I should be able to post the next chapter in the next week, as Spring Break for me starts after class tomorrow. :D