Chapter 2; First Birthday
Mycroft woke up to the sound of a crying Sherlock for the fourth time that night. It had been eleven months, three weeks, and six days since his parents had brought home Sherlock for the first time. In that year, it had become apparent that little Sherlock was very advanced.
He had already begun walking and talking some, and seemed to have an interest in everything that he could see, smell, hear, or tough. Much to Mycroft's glee, Sherlock's first word had been some babbled version of his name. It sounded something like my-cwost, but it still brought joy to the young geniuses' heart. Since then, Sherlock had taken to the habit of calling his older brother "My", which detested Mycroft greatly. He loathed nicknames, and attempted to correct Sherlock whenever possible. So far, his corrections have had no effect and Sherlock insists on keeping "My" around a while longer.
So here "My" was, attempting franticly to calm a frightened Sherlock on the morning of his first birthday. Mycroft's room was closer to Sherlock's nursery that his parent's, so Mycroft had been woken by Sherlock's desperate howls before his Mum and Father. He had hurried into the nursery and lulled him back to sleep as to avoid his parents being awoken.
They received little sleep as it was for his Mother was often up extremely late calculation very complex equations in her whiteboard filled study. She was a Nobel Prize recipient in Math and a world renounced mathematic genius. Their mother's genius was the main factor of why Sherlock and Mycroft had turned out to be so advanced; they had inherited the gene of genius. But apparently, even baby geniuses cried all hours of the night.
Although, Mycroft did have a trick to hush his baby brother back to sleep. He would recite the periodic table to him and Sherlock would simply stare into his brother's eyes with fascination at each element spoken. He appeared to be contemplating each one as if he were some great chemist. Around the twenty-fifth element or so, Sherlock's soft, pink eyelids would eventually begin to flutter and close. Then, Mycroft would happily lie down next to the crib and listen to the soft breaths of Sherlock as he happily slept.
He was not sleeping now though, he was back to reciting the periodic table for young Sherlock. "Okay Sherlock, one last time for your birthday. Hydrogen, Helium, Lithium, Beryllium, Boron, Carbon, Nitrogen, Oxygen," Sherlock's wails started to subside, "Fluorine, Neon, Sodium, Magnesium, Aluminum, Silicon, Phosphorous, Sulfur, Chlorine, Argon, Potassium, Calcium, Scandium," Sherlock's eyes slowly shut and his breathing began to become deep and regular. "There my dear brother. How's that?" Mycroft asked, knowing no one would answer. Mycroft was satisfied that little Sherlock would sleep soundly until morning now, so he decided it was time for him to go back to his own bead.
He crept down the hall and tucked himself soundly into bead. The young genius glanced at the clock. 3:17, not too bad. Sherlock was beginning to sleep for longer intervals. Mycroft lay in his bed, contemplating his most recent Trigonometry assignment, when he heard his 7am alarm go off. Beethoven's ninth symphony rang soothingly in the young geniuses' ears. Mycroft did wish he had managed to get some rest, but he had been learning the more he advanced in his studies, the harder it was to shut his brain off and sleep. There was so much the world they lived in had to offer, if Mycroft wanted to learn as much as he could, his sleeping schedule would have to be cut down to a minimum.
Mycroft thought this all through as he gracefully swung his legs out of bed and got dressed in a sharp looking, navy blue vest and dress pant. Today was a special occasion, it was Sherlock's first birthday and Mycroft intended to make his little brother's first birthday a memorable one. He exited his room and made his way downstairs to the smell of warm sausage and scrambled eggs with a side bacon and tomatoes; a very traditional English breakfast.
His parents were already seated at their long, mahogany dining table. His father had a copy of the London Evening Standard newspaper open and was contently reading through the major news events while sipping his freshly brewed black coffee with no sugar. His mother was tending to Sherlock's birthday decorations on the wall, her plate already cleaned. On the opposite side of the table, Mycroft's seating was made up for his and his food was still warm, evident from the visible steam rising from his plate. A glass of orange juice had been poured for his as well.
Next to his spot, a hand carved baby seat sat empty with a plastic plate of "gourmet" baby food and small slices of various tropical fruits. Sherlock must still be asleep, Mycroft thought. This wasn't surprising, due to the fact that he had been awake all hours of the night thanks to his frequent night terrors. "Ah Mycroft, how nice of you to join us," His mother smiled at her elder son and motioned for him to begin his breakfast. "You look my tiered son. Did you not sleep well?" His father asked him over his spectacles, folding his paper and placing it neatly next to his halfway-eaten platter of food. Mycroft glanced up at his father. He had no troubled lying to his parents, he was quite good at it in fact, but if he told them that he slept all throughout the night, they would assume he wasn't getting enough sleep and would change his "bedtime" to earlier in the night. "Oh I had some trouble falling asleep. I was contemplating string theory and was too fascinated to engage in such a trivial matter as sleeping," Mycroft skillfully replied. He had not lied entirely, he had been thinking of string theory before he heard the first cries of young Sherlock, and it had fascinated him greatly. He had also avoided getting his nursemaid, Annie in trouble. It was her responsibility to look after both Sherlock and Mycroft's needs, yet she had been under a lot of stress lately for she herself was expecting a baby in roughly 7 months.
"Mycroft dear, I know you're brain has great capacities, but that does not mean you can deprive yourself of the basic needs your body requires as well," his mother gently scolded her little genius. Mycroft acted understanding and promised his mother that he would attempt to sleep at least eight hours a night.
Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of soft babbles coming from the main foyer. "The birthday boy's finally awake," Annie smiled as she passed Sherlock over to Violet who affectionately kissed the top of his head. His hair had grown considerably in his first year and now had a small mop of dark brown curls to account for.
"I think we should do presents early this year," Renfred clapped his hands in excitement with a large smile on his face. Dr. Holmes often felt like the moron of the family for he was the only one who had not shown aptitude to being a genius. But in truth, he was a very intelligent man with a PhD. from Oxford in economics and banking. To make up for his lack of textbook genius, he often took it upon himself to interject in conversations as much as possible, as he was doing now. "That's a lovely idea Ren, our baby boy deserves something special on his first birthday," Mycroft's mother exclaimed as she hurried into the family room with Annie at her heels.
They emerged carrying an assortment of brightly collared wrapped gifts which they placed in front Sherlock. Violet, who also happened to be Dr. Holmes, called out to Callum, Martin, Aaron, their sweet maid who was studying at Cambridge(she was very attached to Sherlock in particular), and Archie, their young cook. The little family, along with their servants, gathered around Sherlock and begun to sing him "happy birthday." Archie quickly dashed into the kitchen and emerged again carrying a round, chocolate birthday cake with the words happy 1st birthday Sherlock written in cursive on top. The candle appeared to dance in young Mycroft's eyes as they placed the cake in front of his baby brother.
Sherlock appeared fascinated by the candled and stared at it intently with inelegant eyes until his mother bent down and blew it out, much to Sherlock's dismay. Everyone clapped as Martin began cutting slices of the cake and setting them on small ceramic plates Violet had given him. Mycroft ate his piece in satisfaction, for he wasn't allowed to have sweets all that often. His mother then proceeded to select a gift off the enormous pile and begin reading the card aloud.
"Happy birthday to our newest grandson. We can't wait to see you again this summer. Love; Grandmother and Grandfather," Violet then began unwrapping the light purple parcel to reveal a small jumper with the symbols "√-1 23 Σ π and it was delicious" written on it. "How nice!" Violet exclaimed. "Mickey, you're next!" Mycroft's mother motioned for her elder son to present Sherlock with the square shaped present he had bout Sherlock. '"Here you go brother mine," Mycroft placed the present in front of Sherlock, who simply stared. His mother then unwrapped it herself. "Oh it's a book on the elements! How nice Mycroft! You do know he won't be able to read it for a while though," his mother smiled. "Oh I intended to teach him before the year is up," Mycroft declared, for secretly, he had already begun teaching his genius baby brother. Just as he had promised the one year ago on the day of his birth.