Tiny short chapter this time folks, but there will be a huge Mycroft-Sherlock Christmas soon, in the run up in real time! Less than a month now! X
Sherlock threw the last of his clothes into a suitcase and looked around at his empty bedroom. This would probably be the last time he would be here. He took in the faded spots on the walls from where his posters had been, the empty bookshelves, the stripped bed. So many memories. Mixed ones, not just as a focal point for the many, many punishments he'd endured there. He remembered the times he and Mycroft had played chess or pirates. The times Mummy had read to him. He sighed, running a hand through his short curly hair. It was all over. He was leaving. He was seventeen, allowed, finally, after years of waiting, to go to university. He'd won a place at Oxford without even trying. He'd applied for some random course. Something to do with Anthropology, he thought. But it didn't matter. He would hardly pay any attention anyway, just cruise through, soaking up all the information he could get. He shut the case and dragged it away, closing the door behind him without another glance. As he got to the bottom of the stairs, his father came out of the kitchen.
"Leaving?"
"Yes."
"Are you coming here for Christmas?"
"I doubt it."
"To Mycroft, then?"
"I guess so."
"It wasn't my intention to drive you away." The man said, almost regretfully
"Well. That's what happened."
"It wasn't the plan, I assure you. Especially since... since she died."
"Trust me, we were waiting to leave long before that." Sherlock said coldly. His father took a step towards him, his eyes darkening as they did when he was about to lash out. But he didn't.
"I wish things had been different. I wish you boys hadn't been so bad, and that I hadn't had to punish you."
"Mycroft says I'm not bad. That you're the one who's bad."
"Mycroft always did talk about things he doesn't understand."
"He understands a lot."
"Not really."
"Well. Goodbye."
"Goodbye. I will come to your graduation, I promise."
"I won't be counting on it." Sherlock said. His father looked almost disappointed.
"Work hard"
"Bye" Sherlock dragged his case out of the door, wrapped his scarf around his thin neck, and walked away from the grand house, finally free.