I found some story prompts on tumblr and my friends requested some stuff. I've been looking for prompts, so I'm going to keep up with them for a bit. THEY'RE FUN. :D
Kick in the Head (Mycroft, Sherlock)
Sherlock and I have never been given to shows of outwardly affection. Primarily, of course, this is due to our logical upbringing. Our mother, with her familial inclination to art, was never lacking in maternal affection, nor was our father terribly cruel. Even so, neither was accustomed to the demonstration of flighty sentiment, and my brother and I followed their example.
Just a degree of our enforced emotional impartiality, however, has been the result of disagreeable experiences in our past. Take, for instance, one of the times I – Lord save me – attempted to assume the role of "brotherly playmate."
When I was fourteen, Sherlock was seven. Since his birth, the incorrigible fellow has always seemed determined to become a primary demonstrator of Mr. Newton's kinetic theory. As a child, he was always running about, always exploring, and always getting into trouble. Which, I suppose, is not much different from what he does now-a-days with Dr. Watson.
Ordinarily, I removed myself from his whirlwind path of destruction. One day in June, however, when the boy was holed up in his room in a fit of bored languor, I was claimed by that damnable siren-call that inevitably comes to those of us not blessed by being an only-child:
Duty to one's younger sibling.
That is why, minutes later, I found myself splashing about – honestly, splashing, have mercy – with my enthusiastic brother in a nearby lake.
Now, Sherlock and I have always been given to the bend of mischievousness and theatricality. I am not so blind as to deny it in myself; although it is quality I take more pains than my brother to control and conceal. That afternoon however, I indulged.
I managed to slip under the water after a vicious attack from my brother and sank deep into the depths of the lake. Three, four, five seconds… The splashing sounds stopped, and there was silence. A strange reverberation through the water, I heard my brother call my name. When only silence greeted him, he tried again, a touch more fearfully.
At the count of ten seconds, I swam quietly upwards and grabbed the boy's ankle.
A shriek sounded oddly through the blue mass around me, punctuated quite suddenly by an awful pain in my head. The foot in my grasp beat its way violently free, but not without stunning me rather completely with a second ringing blow to my skull.
The world went dark, and when I woke again, it was to my bed with my anxious brother hovering guiltily nearby. My lungs felt heavy and wet, my head ached, and even as I sighed and assured my awful brother, "yes, I'm fine, do stop sniveling, it's most unseemly," I decided that I would never again show him any sympathy whatsoever.
Another annoying thing about siblings, however, is that one always tends to break such promises.