Six-year-old Sherlock Holmes was awakened from his spot on the grass, where
he had fallen asleep, by a gasp and a tug on his ear. "SHERLOCK!!! I've
told you never to go outside without me!" Before he knew it, Sherlock,
still half asleep, was being dragged back into his house. Drat. She had
found him. His nanny walked him up the stairs, a hand grasped firmly on
his shoulder. They went past his brother Mycroft's room, and then into his
own. Even after a manner of minutes, which the nanny spent getting little
Holmes ready for his bath (or "drowning", as he called it), Mycroft still
didn't show up. But, of course, Sherlock wasn't surprised. In a way, he
detested his brother, who was almost as harsh as his nanny at times.
Mycroft rarely left his room, and usually spent his time working on
something or other; Sherlock never knew exactly what. The elder Holmes was
secretive and reclusive, so his sibling often spent his time alone,
wandering the house.
Sherlock was brought back to reality by a splash. Let the drowning begin, he thought sadly as he felt a chill dashed onto his warm skin. The water was cold and the brush's bristles hard against the child's bare back, who was already used to the cruelty but not at all ready to accept it. He could hear the grumbling of the nanny as she scrubbed and scrubbed, ignoring the raw redness of Sherlock's pale skin. But even as a toddler he never cried. Why should he cry? It wouldn't soften his nanny anyways.
Holmes' nurse, Miss Laura Carling, although of an English descent, was born in the Middle East and had been to many places around the world with her Army father. However, her parents died when she was hardly a young woman, and as a result her heart was cold and hard, having been passed from home to home, unwanted and unloved. Her relation to Sherlock Holmes was as an aunt, being some distant cousin on his mother's side. His mother had implored her to come, for she needed a place to stay anyway. The father, who had left no clue of his sheer existence, had left even before Miss Carling had answered the mother's call. And after less than a year she had disappeared too, just after Sherlock was born. Laura, who had an air of haughtiness, was nonetheless caring deep in her heart, and stayed on with the two boys. Besides, no matter how cold you are outside, a little hope burned on inside her; her cousin would come back. It might take years until she would be ready to return, but she would. In the meantime, she made sure the boys were all right. Sherlock called her "Auntie" or "Nanny", and she took a special place in his heart, even though he often returned her coldness when he was confused at her behavior to him.
Ignoring the boy's protestations, Miss Carling wrapped him tightly in the sheets so that he couldn't escape as he had done countless times. There was a sense of adventure seeking in him that made him different from Mycroft, and made him a load of trouble, too. Then, she left him alone in the dark, her swift footsteps echoing down the hall. Sherlock wasn't scared: on the contrary, he waited patiently, humming a little ditty until he heard his brother enter the room, a candle in hand. Without moving to assist him, Mycroft prompted immediately, "Well? Have you got them?" The younger one nodded, directing his elder with glances to the drawer at his side. Mycroft opened it, extracting the birth certificates of him and Sherlock, which the latter had found after days of searching. He smiled; his little brother was an expert at discovering, even at so young an age. Looking over both of them nonchalantly, he said, "Nanny didn't give you dinner, did she?" When Sherlock answered to the negative, Mycroft continued on. "It would be a good thing for you not to expect meals; she's not much of a cook. You must wean yourself off eating, Sherlock. It will serve you well." Moving to leave, he heard the mini-mummy piped up, "What're the papers for?" But his brother ignored him, ordering him to sleep. Holmes, with a well prepared answer, retorted, "I haven't got school tomorrow! Why don't we go to school?" Mycroft answered quickly, "Because mum and dad didn't take us to one."
"Who are our mum and dad?"
"Ask Nanny." And with that the door shut with a rapid creak.
Poor Sherlock had no remembrance whatsoever of either of his parents. No matter how hard he racked his nimble brain or tried to remember anything at all, it was in vain. He had a keen mind, and an even keener memory, but still he could recall nothing. At times he wondered sadly why his parents had left. Was it his fault? Holmes decided to take Mycroft's advice and ask his aunt.
The next night, as Nanny was wrapping the boy up as usual, he asked innocently, "Can I ask you a question, Nanny?" Laura Carling stopped, making the mistake of looking into the boy's eyes. They were a peculiar light gray, and shone with childish affection. How he could still be so affable at times after all she had done to him was a mystery. She sighed. "You ask to many questions, child." But after he begged and pleaded with her she had to give in. How couldn't she, with his darling face so anxious?
"Do you promise to go to sleep afterwards?" He nodded vigorously. When she complied, he asked the same question he had asked Mycroft the night before, about their education, adding unhappily how all the other children did.
His aunt's eyes narrowed. "How do you know that?"
Sherlock replied matter-of-factly, "I see them walking to the school house. Mycroft told me what it was." Miss Carling scowled but he continued, "But all we ever do is stay inside! I don't know anybody else except my own brother!"
Miss Carling's eyes unfocused, and she stared off into space as she murmured mysteriously, "You don't need friends to survive in life, child. Sometimes they hold you back." But she remembered the boy's promise and said quickly, "The reason you don't go to school, Sherlock, is because your mother didn't want you to go. Said you were smart enough already."
Sherlock Holmes blinked suspiciously. "Mycroft told me it's because we're lepers." He saw his Auntie glare in the direction of Mycroft's room with a shake of her head and muttered, "Your brother's so good at lying he ought to be in the government." About to turn out the light, she heard her young charge ask in a high voice, "Nanny, who was my mum?" Unfortunately for him Carling had learned not to look into those mesmerizing eyes when refusing their possessor and snapped tersely, "Don't break your promises, child." Then, without another word, Sherlock was surrounded by darkness. But not for long, of course.
At the bottom of each story, I couldn't resist adding a connections section. It wouldn't be an origin story if you didn't see the connections! And so, just in case you didn't, here it is.
*Ever wondered where Holmes got his personality? He got it from his nanny, of course. In "The Copper Beeches", Holmes points out that he can tell the true nature of a couple from the disposition of their child. The parents were cruel and malicious; so the child was as well, taking out roaches with a slipper "faster than you can wink". *And everybody knows you can't stay away from food for days without having been starved as a kid. *Granada Series Fans: Jeremy Brett was often found shouting to "MRS HUDSON!!" Well, Holmes might've been paying Mrs. Hudson back for all the things his nanny did. But of course, he was still kind to her in his own little way, even though he was a bit petty. "Mrs. Hudson, please disappear (with a wave of both hands)" *I've always wondered why Mycroft and Holmes weren't very close, even as brothers. There was a sort of voided business-like tone in their dealings with each other, like a boss to a familiar employee. Seems that Mycroft wasn't there for his little bro at times.
Sherlock was brought back to reality by a splash. Let the drowning begin, he thought sadly as he felt a chill dashed onto his warm skin. The water was cold and the brush's bristles hard against the child's bare back, who was already used to the cruelty but not at all ready to accept it. He could hear the grumbling of the nanny as she scrubbed and scrubbed, ignoring the raw redness of Sherlock's pale skin. But even as a toddler he never cried. Why should he cry? It wouldn't soften his nanny anyways.
Holmes' nurse, Miss Laura Carling, although of an English descent, was born in the Middle East and had been to many places around the world with her Army father. However, her parents died when she was hardly a young woman, and as a result her heart was cold and hard, having been passed from home to home, unwanted and unloved. Her relation to Sherlock Holmes was as an aunt, being some distant cousin on his mother's side. His mother had implored her to come, for she needed a place to stay anyway. The father, who had left no clue of his sheer existence, had left even before Miss Carling had answered the mother's call. And after less than a year she had disappeared too, just after Sherlock was born. Laura, who had an air of haughtiness, was nonetheless caring deep in her heart, and stayed on with the two boys. Besides, no matter how cold you are outside, a little hope burned on inside her; her cousin would come back. It might take years until she would be ready to return, but she would. In the meantime, she made sure the boys were all right. Sherlock called her "Auntie" or "Nanny", and she took a special place in his heart, even though he often returned her coldness when he was confused at her behavior to him.
Ignoring the boy's protestations, Miss Carling wrapped him tightly in the sheets so that he couldn't escape as he had done countless times. There was a sense of adventure seeking in him that made him different from Mycroft, and made him a load of trouble, too. Then, she left him alone in the dark, her swift footsteps echoing down the hall. Sherlock wasn't scared: on the contrary, he waited patiently, humming a little ditty until he heard his brother enter the room, a candle in hand. Without moving to assist him, Mycroft prompted immediately, "Well? Have you got them?" The younger one nodded, directing his elder with glances to the drawer at his side. Mycroft opened it, extracting the birth certificates of him and Sherlock, which the latter had found after days of searching. He smiled; his little brother was an expert at discovering, even at so young an age. Looking over both of them nonchalantly, he said, "Nanny didn't give you dinner, did she?" When Sherlock answered to the negative, Mycroft continued on. "It would be a good thing for you not to expect meals; she's not much of a cook. You must wean yourself off eating, Sherlock. It will serve you well." Moving to leave, he heard the mini-mummy piped up, "What're the papers for?" But his brother ignored him, ordering him to sleep. Holmes, with a well prepared answer, retorted, "I haven't got school tomorrow! Why don't we go to school?" Mycroft answered quickly, "Because mum and dad didn't take us to one."
"Who are our mum and dad?"
"Ask Nanny." And with that the door shut with a rapid creak.
Poor Sherlock had no remembrance whatsoever of either of his parents. No matter how hard he racked his nimble brain or tried to remember anything at all, it was in vain. He had a keen mind, and an even keener memory, but still he could recall nothing. At times he wondered sadly why his parents had left. Was it his fault? Holmes decided to take Mycroft's advice and ask his aunt.
The next night, as Nanny was wrapping the boy up as usual, he asked innocently, "Can I ask you a question, Nanny?" Laura Carling stopped, making the mistake of looking into the boy's eyes. They were a peculiar light gray, and shone with childish affection. How he could still be so affable at times after all she had done to him was a mystery. She sighed. "You ask to many questions, child." But after he begged and pleaded with her she had to give in. How couldn't she, with his darling face so anxious?
"Do you promise to go to sleep afterwards?" He nodded vigorously. When she complied, he asked the same question he had asked Mycroft the night before, about their education, adding unhappily how all the other children did.
His aunt's eyes narrowed. "How do you know that?"
Sherlock replied matter-of-factly, "I see them walking to the school house. Mycroft told me what it was." Miss Carling scowled but he continued, "But all we ever do is stay inside! I don't know anybody else except my own brother!"
Miss Carling's eyes unfocused, and she stared off into space as she murmured mysteriously, "You don't need friends to survive in life, child. Sometimes they hold you back." But she remembered the boy's promise and said quickly, "The reason you don't go to school, Sherlock, is because your mother didn't want you to go. Said you were smart enough already."
Sherlock Holmes blinked suspiciously. "Mycroft told me it's because we're lepers." He saw his Auntie glare in the direction of Mycroft's room with a shake of her head and muttered, "Your brother's so good at lying he ought to be in the government." About to turn out the light, she heard her young charge ask in a high voice, "Nanny, who was my mum?" Unfortunately for him Carling had learned not to look into those mesmerizing eyes when refusing their possessor and snapped tersely, "Don't break your promises, child." Then, without another word, Sherlock was surrounded by darkness. But not for long, of course.
At the bottom of each story, I couldn't resist adding a connections section. It wouldn't be an origin story if you didn't see the connections! And so, just in case you didn't, here it is.
*Ever wondered where Holmes got his personality? He got it from his nanny, of course. In "The Copper Beeches", Holmes points out that he can tell the true nature of a couple from the disposition of their child. The parents were cruel and malicious; so the child was as well, taking out roaches with a slipper "faster than you can wink". *And everybody knows you can't stay away from food for days without having been starved as a kid. *Granada Series Fans: Jeremy Brett was often found shouting to "MRS HUDSON!!" Well, Holmes might've been paying Mrs. Hudson back for all the things his nanny did. But of course, he was still kind to her in his own little way, even though he was a bit petty. "Mrs. Hudson, please disappear (with a wave of both hands)" *I've always wondered why Mycroft and Holmes weren't very close, even as brothers. There was a sort of voided business-like tone in their dealings with each other, like a boss to a familiar employee. Seems that Mycroft wasn't there for his little bro at times.