Listen to Sherlock Composing by Lucas King while reading this.
Reading her books at home after talking to her tutor, doing some experiments with Sherlock, and of course looking at a human brain with Molly, Charlotte found herself exhausted.
And she still had therapy to do.
Rolling her eyes, she got up and tried to play her violin or cello but no luck.
Her upper arm hurt too much.
Frowning she say back down and stared at them.
Sherlock looking at the scene and frowning as well decided he might as well play for her.
Looking through old sheets to pick out a piece, he noticed something at the bottom of the box.
A pirate hat.
He remembered the time when he wanted to be a pirate.
"Ooooo what's that," Charlotte asked.
"Nothing of your concern," he stated coldly.
Opening the box anyway, it revealed the old pirate hat.
"A pirate hat," she exclaimed, "that's silly," she giggled, "we should play pirates."
Sherlock shook his head, "you need to brush up on your music while you can't play."
"Pleeeeaasseeeee," she begged.
"No."
"I guess I'll play with Redbeard then," she stated sadly walking away.
Sherlock quickly had a flashback:
"Myc pleeeaassseeeee," a young Sherlock begged his elder brother in a suit as he was preparing to leave for boarding school.
"I have to leave brother mine," he shot down frowning at the young boy with the pirate hat.
And then he saw him walk out the door.
And it wouldn't be his last time.
"Fine," he groaned.
"YAY!"
"But this is for self defense do you understand?"
"Yes Captain!"
"That's Captain Holmes to you Madame."
"And I'm a prisoner trying to take over the ship!"
"Not on my watch," he warned getting a plastic sword that Mycroft gave her as a gift for feeling better.
"3,2,1," she began and then they fought, the sound of plastic hitting plastic echoing in the apartment.
She quickly fake stabbed Sherlock in the chest.
Letting out a gasp, Sherlock collapsed to the floor (like the overgrown child he is) and played dead while Redbeard sniffed him and walked away.
"Papa," she squealed shaking him, "I win," when he didn't move she frowned until-
"BOO!"
Jumping forward, Sherlock picked up Charlotte with ease as she laughed and squealed.
"I win."
"Fine," she said defeated, "I love you papa," she admitted.
"I-"
Then a knock on the door came revealing none other than Mycroft with a smirk on his face.
"I see you are playing pirates," he stated with a smirk.
"Just practicing self defense sir," she said cheerfully, "wanna join?"
"No thank you and it's want to not wanna," he corrected.
"Pleeeeeaaassseeeeeee," she begged.
And soon the little girl in the pirate hat reminded Mycroft of a little boy he once knew.
Sherlock smirked.
"Fine," he said defeated.
"YAY!"
And so the three young Holmes' played pirates together. And for once, all of them got along.
Christmas soon came around and Charlotte couldn't be any happier.
"Mycroft is forcing us both to spend Christmas with my parents," Sherlock explained as he had Charlotte carry her bags.
She nodded, hoping they were nice. Or at least not stupid.
When they finally made it, Sherlock never seen his mother run to him so fast.
Except...it wasn't towards him.
"OH SWEETIE PIE," she yelled toward Charlotte hugging her tightly spinning her around as if she somehow gained super strength, "YOU ARE MORE ADORABLE THAN THE PICTURES!"
"Pictures," Sherlock and Char asked at the same time.
Mycroft then appeared smirking with a handful of more pictures in a file.
"Creep," Sherlock muttered.
"Come in come in," she said cheerfully taking Charlotte's hand, "Oh hi Sherlock."
Charlotte's eyes looked at the two men behind her as she was rushed in pleading for help or and out.
The men just chuckled at the sight.
They both knew that the one thing mother Holmes always wanted were two things:
A daughter and a grandchild.
And she got the best of both worlds finding Charlotte.
"So what were you for Halloween Charlotte?"
"I wasn't anything," she said quietly, "too many cases."
"Cases," she then looked at Sherlock, "you take her on her cases?!"
"Of course."
She then rolled her eyes at the thought of bringing a 5 year old to a crime scene.
"We're going to have a chat later about that Sherlock Holmes just you wait," she said sternly. She then turned back to Charlotte smiling, "so what do you like to do, read? Dance? Play?"
Charlotte sat silent looking at her fingers. She then looked at Sherlock for help. He only motioned for her to answer.
"I like to play instruments," she stated quietly.
"Instruments?! Mycroft and Sherlock used to play instruments all the time. Now just Sherlock plays. Come I'll show you the piano."
"The piano," she asked excitedly.
"Yes come dearie."
Across the hall, Mrs. Holmes revealed an old style piano with rusting keys but still in good condition for how old it was and what it went through.
"This is Mycroft's old one," she explained, "he used to play on it all the time while little Sherlock used to sit right next to him or play the violin."
They then looked at the old pictures standing on top of the piano.
"That was the year Sherlock drugged us," she pointed to a recent picture, "that's the year Sherlock and Mycroft nearly burned the kitchen down," she pointed to an older picture.
"What," she giggled, "but cooking is just chemistry but with food."
"You would think they would be intelligent based off their demeanor wouldn't you," she joked back, "they aren't."
She then looked out the window seeing the two boys of the subject outside.
"They must be smoking again," she sighed angrily, "I'll be back."
Finding herself alone, Charlotte carefully opened the piano and thought of a tune.
She then went to her mind palace and remembered one that she found deep in Sherlock's stack of papers.
It was titled "The Woman."
She remembered smirking at that.
But she always thought it was missing something. Some kind of flare some kind of emotion.
Next thing you know, she was doing runs on the keys, moving her small body around on the seat to reach all the keys as quickly and as accurately as possible.
Unknowing to her, Sherlock and Mycroft and everyone else came in, quietly listing as she put force on the keys for the climax.
Sherlock bit his tongue in annoyance.
"Merry Christmas Mr. Holmes," a seductive voice in his head stated.
"Get out of my head I'm busy," he said coldly out loud.
"What," Mycroft asked.
"Nothing."
Once she was finished she smiled.
3 now.
And who knows how many more to go?
Sherlock then literally dragged her outside as Mr. Holmes quietly clapped.
"Never ever look into my stacks again is that understood," he growled.
Her eyes wide with fear, looked confused but didn't try to deduce him, now wasn't the time.
"I-"
"Promise."
"But-"
"Promise," he growled.
"I promise to not look in your stacks," she stated quickly, "I'm sorry."
And so then they went back inside.
