"Don't jump!" Mycroft cried to his brother. Ignoring him, Sherlock pushed off from the cliff on wiry, white legs. The callused soles of his feet were flung for an instant into the air, but flipped quickly out of sight. The more portly boy dashed to the edge horrified, but his brother was safe in the sea below, laughing loudly, his small, birdlike head thrown back.
"Come on!" the smaller one called. "It's something to write home about!"
Mycroft shook his head.
"Live a little, Mycroft!"
The older boy thrust his hands into his pockets and started the walk back home.