Sherlock, We Remember Your Childhood Well
Your questions were answered fully. No. That didn't occur.
You couldn't sing anyway, cared less. The moment's a blur, a Film Fun
laughing itself to death in the coal fire. Anyone's guess.
He was only thirteen and despite being so very smart for his age, the noises down the corridor seemed alien. Of course he had to go and look. A few hours later Sheridan would see him sitting on the garden step, smoking and staring at the December dew. Sheridan would ask what was wrong and Sherlock would say that he wrote mummy a letter.
"You won't tell anyone, will you, Sherlock? I mean, why ruin the family for it. She knows already, you know. You really don't want to make it worse, you really don't…" Father acted kindly at the time, but he didn't't act so kind when he threw 'The Complete Works of Shakespeare' into the coal fire and watched the flames lick the pages.
The moment's a blur, Sherlock doesn't't go in until mummy finds his letter. She opens it reads it. There's silence and then there's a smash.
She isn't as shocked as she should be. Lily Holmes already suspected her husband of cheating. She only wished it wasn't her youngest babe who caught him.
Of course there's a fight. Angry voices. Angry screams. At one point Andrew-father comes outside and pulls him in, to scream at. He screams at Sherlock and mother screams at father and Sherlock just wants it to stop, stop, stop. The night ends with mother crying on the floor.
"LOOK AT HER! LOOK WHAT YOU DID!"
After he's gone, he goes to comfort mum, but of course, a comforting hand pulls him back.
Mycroft whispers "You've done enough, Sherlock"
Anyone's Guess.