Anote: I have had a super positive response for this story in the last week, and I would like to thank everyone, especially Sarah and other guest reviewers for their continued support.
Flashback: John's suggestion that they make picture cards to go with their vases of flowers had found universal acceptance, and the two little heads bent to the task with more good will than actual skill.
Chapter 11- Pirate adventures
Sherlock didn't really think he was creative, not like other children his age. He just didn't have the talent for it, as was evidenced by this current exercise in making picture cards.
Sherlock had taken a long time carefully forming his letters, and had only just finished his 'I miss you' message to his mummy, when he looked across to where John was enthusiastically coloring on his paper.
John was way ahead of him it would seem, as he had already drawn a rainbow which sported a smear of glitter to highlight its beauty. Now, the little boy was coloring a herd of fat ponies in improbable colors.
Sherlock looked down at his plain, un-decorated card with a frown. His work looked disappointing when compared with John's pretty drawings.
It wasn't fair!
A strong desire suddenly came over him to grab John's work and tear it up.
'What's wrong, Sherlock?' Mycroft asked him with a steely stare; warning him with his eyes that he was aware of Sherlock's change in his mood.
The teenager was walking around the room trying to get ready for the evening session at school, but was wisely keeping one eye on his brother.
'I am well,' Sherlock glared, not liking when his big brother hovered over him, especially when he was thinking naughty thoughts, 'don't forget to take your PE things.'
Mycroft growled under his breath. Sherlock knew very well that he hated Physical Education class with a passion.
'I have checked over your sums, Sherlock,' he said, as he squatted down to place the pages on the blanket where the boys sat, 'They are very good; not a single mistake. However, I want you to try again with this essay.'
The little boy looked down at his rejected creative writing with a morose expression. Here was more evidence that he possessed all the imagination of a coat button.
'What's wrong with it?!' Sherlock demanded petulantly as he flung it away. 'I did everything you said to do!'
John was busy examining the page with all the complicated looking sums in awe, and almost got hit in the face by the flying essay. He picked up the story, after carefully putting down his head x-ray which he had been cradling lovingly against his chest, as he colored.
'Dr. and Mrs. Holder have a cat. It is ginger in color. It sleeps all day and eats birds.'
John turned over the page to see if there was more to the story but that seemed to be it; their wasn't even a stick drawing to illustrate said killer of the poor helpless birds.
'Sherlock, your work is...' Mycroft waved his hands around helplessly, trying to explain that Sherlock's essay read more like a newspaper report than a piece of creative writing.
'It's too short,' John said firmly, interrupting the bigger boy, 'the kitty needs to go on an adventure.'
Sherlock scoffed and turned to him, 'an adventure?! for what purpose? It is a cat.'
'Animals always have great adventures,' John told him solemnly, 'especially kitty cats.'
Sherlock took back his essay with a doubtful expression, 'What sort of adventure do you have in mind?'
'A pirate adventure!' John cried, his eyes all excited.
Sherlock shook his head, 'cats don't like water, John, and the ocean is far away from here.'
'But the little kitty could have gotten lost ...'
'...and then crawled into a box to get warm,' Sherlock suggested inspirationally, 'like those packed on a big lorry.'
'...and then it fell asleep because it was so tired.'
'...and then the lorry reached the boat!'
'...and then the boat went out to sea!'
'...and where are we going?' Sherlock wanted to know; looking across at John with fresh admiration. He had already deduced that his new playmate wasn't as smart as he was, but John was very clever in his own way.
'I want to go India!' John cried.
'India?' Mycroft inquired in some confusion as he handed them small mugs of hot cocoa.
'We should have a car chase too,' John added with a nod of his head, 'Good movies always have a car chase.'
The small boys stared into the mugs, thinking hard as to how they could have a car chase for kitty who was lost on a boat which was destined for India.
In the meantime, Mycroft had covered his mouth with one hand to stifle his laughter; not wanting to disturb the serious discussions taken place in his room. The cat belonging to their next door neighbors, Dr. and Mrs. Holder, was certainly poised for a fantastic adventure.
'Alright, John,' Mycroft spoke up after he had cleared his throat, 'Please help my brother with his story, but do not do write it for him, okay?'
'But can I draw the pictures?' John asked hopefully with a big pleading look; destined to break hearts.
'I would like that very much,' the older boy assured him quickly.
Sherlock smiled when John clapped his small hands excitedly. It wasn't in Sherlock's nature to ask for help, but time and time again the other boy patiently agreed to do just that.
John really was quite a good sort.
Sherlock put his card for his mum in John's lap, 'Draw me a rainbow!'
'Can you please draw me a rainbow?' Mycroft corrected him sternly, even as their guest obediently picked up the color pencils and started to color. Sherlock rolled on to his stomach and drank his cocoa as major decorative work proceeded on his card.
'Sherl,' John said after awhile, 'why don't you draw some hearts ? Girls like that, and write 'I love you' in this empty space down here.'
'What do you mean, girls like this?' Sherlock repeated, 'Explain.'
John shrugged, 'I don't know, they just do. You say I love you and you get kisses and hugs and sometimes sweets.'
Sherlock looked up at his brother with a questioning look. 'Why do girls do that?'
But Mycroft shook his head not willing to launch into a discussion about the opposite sex with Sherlock.
Instead, he leaned over and pulled down Sherlock's jersey which had bunched around his hips, exposing his naked bottom to all the world.
'I don't know any girls except my mum,' Sherlock admitted conversationally, 'I see girls around my pre-school all the time, of course, but when I sit next to them they are very giggly and loud, and I can't think. I don't like them.'
'The girls in my school are very nice, and they bring you good things to eat and tell you when your face is dirty,' John said stoutly in their defense.
Just then a quiet knock came from the door, and Mycroft tousled John's blonde hair as he walked past to see who it was. 'You are going to give your mother some serious trouble when you get older, John.'
John returned Mycroft's wink with a big grin. John didn't understand what the older boy meant but he was a happy go lucky little fellow, and was happy when people smiled at him.
Mycroft opened the door just a crack, when he realised the identity of their visitor. 'Good morning, Mrs. Watson. You don't want to come in here, it's like a man cave. We are drinking, talking about girls and planning pirate adventures!'
'My goodness,' the nurse murmured, badly wanting to hold her little boy for a while, but not wanting to break up the exciting activities within.
She gave one hopeful peek over the top of Mycroft's head, before going away to have a late breakfast. Fortunately, the angle was such that she didn't spy the mason jar filled with cheerful yellow daises, picked lovingly by her son as a surprise.
Mycroft, similarly inspired by John's thoughtfulness, had collected yellow tulips for his mother, but poor Sherlock didn't know what to get. In the end he had amassed a positively alarming bouquet of roses, carnations, tropical anthurims, heliconias, tulips and big fat sunflowers; all jammed higgley-piggley in a vase.
All in all, at least Sherlock's gift was sure to distract his mum from any aches and pains she might still have.
