Just something short that I wrote this morning. Hope it brightens your day!
As per usual, none of this is mine yet. And I am my own editor.
'So, without further gilding the lily and with no more ado, I give to you,' the story!
Sherlock was always the one who was awake first, and yet still he was the one asleep last. Mycroft often ended up leaving Sherlock's room before his three-year-old brother fell asleep, but it was inevitable that he would be awoken the next morning by a small body with messy hair - that was starting to finish up it's turn from fair to dark - hurling itself into his bed.
"Mykey." Sherlock shook his older brother's shoulders. "Mykey, wake up, you'll miss it!"
"What will I miss?" Mycroft asked tiredly, lifting his head and using his elbows to push himself into a sitting position. At ten years old, Mycroft knew there wasn't much morning stuff he hadn't already been privy to, and was surprised at Sherlock's answer.
"The sun." Sherlock pointed at the window behind him with the shades still drawn. "You'll miss the sun!"
"Sherlock, the sun is in the sky every day. You just don't see it because it's always cloudy." Mycroft told him patiently. Sherlock looked frustrated with him.
"No, Mykey! It's different!" Sherlock grabbed his brother's hand and tugged, a poor attempt at dragging his brother to the window bodily. Mycroft allowed himself to be led to the window, opening the drapes for his small brother.
Sherlock had been right. The sunrise was spectacular this morning. There wasn't a cloud in sight - unusual for England - and the sun was just barely peeking out over the horizon. The top sliver of the sun was visible and, up high, the faded moon could still be seen amidst the strong streaks of scarlet, sapphire, lavender, and lingering ebony. Stars twinkled distantly, and Sherlock sighed at the sight.
"Isn't it lovely?" Sherlock asked softly. Mycroft put an arm around his younger brother's shoulders and watched the sunrise as he did.
"Perfectly lovely, Sherlock. Thank you for waking me up." Mycroft bent down and pressed a kiss to the wild curls on top of Sherlock's head. Sherlock squirmed slightly but allowed it.
The morning continued as any other would - their mother coming to rouse them from feigned sleep, their father attempting to beat them into normalcy - but, for just this moment, everything was different. In this one moment, the only two people who existed were the two brothers, and they lived in the sunrise.