Mycroft checked his appearance in the mirror for what felt like the hundreth time that morning. He tugged on his jacket, straightened his tie, combed his fingers through his short hair. Sherlock was sulking around behind him, dressed similiarly but in much smaller sizes. His tie was askew and his shorts hiked up due to the heat. Without his jacket, he wore a short sleeved shirt and looked quite rumpled as he rolled around on the bed.
"Sherlock, you need to at least look a bit presentable. It's your first day, as well. Good first impressions and all that. We don't want to repeat what happened back then, right?" Sherlock shivered and frowned, remembering how much he had hated school as a child. The other children were stupid and annoying and mean, and he had hated them all.
He turned and pulled Sherlock to his feet, then went about straightening his tie and tugging his shirt down to release the wrinkles. "Here," Mycroft said, helping Sherlock shrug into his jacket.
"But it's hot," Sherlock mumbled, tugging at the restricting material. Mycroft just grinned and buttoned it for him, then ruffled his hair.
They walked together out to the kitchen, Mycroft tall and confidant yet still a bit awkward, and Sherlock scowling and small, pouting at his morning cereal. John was rushing around, packing lunches and bags and trying to ready himself, as well. Once he dropped them off at the school, he was beginning his new job. Sarah had put in a good word for him and gotten him a job at a local A&E. He was excited for the fast pace and adrenaline and having something new to do.
"Alright boys," he announced, handing a paper sack to each boy, "lunches. Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes, we'll eat quick, and we need to be out the door in a half hour." They nodded and John continued rushing around, trying to prepare himself for the day.
Sherlock picked at his food and Mycroft shoveled it down. John could tell Sherlock was dreading going to school, but he could also tell Mycroft was oddly excited for it. They were all becoming tired of being cooped up in the house, he admitted to himself, and this would be good for them.
Glancing down at his watch, John sucked in a deep breath and smiled at the boys. "Alright, time to go!" His forced cheer had the boys raising identical eyebrows at him, but John just ignored them and ushered them out the door.
John walked them to the school gates. Sherlock held his hand tightly, staring up at the modern building with wide eyes. Mycroft, standing tall beside John, was looking up at the school with a mix of horror and excitement.
"Alright, boys. You both be good and have fun today. And go straight home after school, yes? I'm sure Mrs. Hudson will have a snack ready when you get there." John leaned down and pressed a kiss to Sherlock's cheek, illiciting a scowl from the boy, which John ignored completely. Turning to Mycroft, John grinned and tugged him into a hug, clapping him a few times on the back.
As he drew back, Mycroft took Sherlock's hand and gave John a curt nod, his face taking on a stoic mask. John watched as they walked up the steps to the school and disappeared behind the doors, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding as he turned to head toward the hospital.
"And then the teacher told us about polar bears! I never realized how amazing they are, before. Mycroft, did we learn about polar bears when we were kids the first time around? I don't remember talking about them then." Sherlock trailed off as he glanced up at his big brother, who was staring intently down at a textbook before him, nodding to Sherlock's poetic waxing about polar bears. When he realized how silent the room had become, the older boy glanced up in confusion.
"Sorry, you were saying?" With his full attention back, Sherlock jumped back into his recounting of his day. Once he had settled himself in, it seemed Sherlock had been just fine. Mycroft had found it a bit more difficult. His classes were challenging, nothing extraordinarily hard, but they made him think, all the same. And the load of homework he had acquired after only one day of classes was enough to drown beneath already.
Mrs. Hudson bustled around them happily, smiling lovingly down at them as she set tea and biscuits down in front of them. They took what they wanted without a second thought, Sherlock not even pausing in his talking to stuff the food in his mouth.
They had been home for little over an hour when John burst through the door, an exhausted smile stretching across his face. "How was school, boys?"
Sherlock beamed up at him from his place at the table and started his stories all over again, and Mycroft rolled his eyes as he heard the story of Suzie Ortiz stealing Tom Marcove's library book at the table across from Sherlock's desk for the second time that day. John, for his part, was indulgently watching Sherlock as he gestured about throughout the story, nearly knocking his tea over in the process.
When Sherlock paused for breath, John held up a hand and grinned, picking up the dishes to bring back into the kitchen for Mrs. Hudson. "I think it's time we went back upstairs. I'll start dinner, boys, and you can keep going at your homework."
They grumbled but went upstairs, Mycroft setting himself up at the kitchen table with his mountain of books and papers and Sherlock perched at his side, glancing through the complex equations Mycroft was muddling through. It was easy enough work, but it was annoyingly time-consuming.
As John set food down in front of them, the boys settled down and Mycroft happily shoved his work away. "How was your day then, Mycroft?"
Grimmacing, Mycroft nodded. "It wasn't really what I remembered it being. But it wasn't terrible. The work is easy enough but still slightly challenging. It'll kill some time, at least."
John nodded along and they fell into easy silence, filled with them stuffing their mouths. When they finished, John stepped up to the sink and called over his shoulder. "Don't forget, you've both got appointments after school tomorrow. I'll pick you up after school and we'll catch a taxi to the office, alright?" The boys grumbled unintelligibly and wandered away, most likely to ready for bed.
When John finished the dishes, he followed the sound of their voices to their room, pushing the door open lightly and perching on the desk. "Everything okay, kids?" Mycroft continued to button up his pyjama top and nodded, while Sherlock wrestled himself into his trousers before throwing himself at the bed.
"Well, best get an early night. I'm sure today was exhausting. Don't stay up studying all night, Mycroft." The boy nodded and settled in the desk chair, sliding a thick tome in front of his face. Sherlock rolled his eyes and snuggled down in the bed, knowing Mycroft would join him when he finished whatever it was he was studying so closely. John smiled and kissed the crown of Mycroft's head before tucking Sherlock in snuggly. "Night, boys."
He left them then, and Mycroft let out a sigh. Sherlock shifted uncomfortably in the bed for a few long minutes and finally sighed, as well. "Put the book away and go to bed," he grumbled, tugging the pillow over his eyes, trying to block out the light.
Mycroft did as he asked and slid in beside his brother, shoving Sherlock's pillow off his face as he clicked the light off. Sherlock waited a few long moments before lowering the pillow and leaning into Mycroft's chest.
"So how was your day, really?" Sherlock asked quietly. Mycroft sighed at his brother's ability to see through his defenses so easily.
"It wasn't as bad as you're no doubt thinking. Nothing like back then. The children have definitely changed, but I'm not sure yet if it's for the best or not. They definitely seem less vicious. But they go about things completely differently, and I'm not sure I fit in. I'm definitely easy to spot in the crowd."
Sherlock sniffed with a scowl and turned onto his back. "Do you feel like you've forgotten things? I don't remember much about polar bears, but we talked about them today in class and they seemed to become the most amazing thing I'd ever heard of before. Do you think it might be a side-effect of the injection?"
Mycroft stiffened and groaned. "I noticed it, too. To tell the truth, that's why I've been at those books since we got home. I don't remember half of what's in there, and I can't possibly fall behind now. I was an adult two months ago, for God's sake! I should know all this stuff."
After a long silent moment, Sherlock let out a long puff of air. "Well, I guess it'll help us blend in if we don't know absolutely everything they're teaching. We won't be called progidies and held up on pedestals, we'll just be Mycroft and Sherlock Holmes, for once."
Mycroft smiled against Sherlock's curls, taking comfort in the simple idea. Yes, he could live with just being Mycroft Holmes for once. Being the British Government really had been tiring. With a snort, he let himself grin. Maybe he could just picture this as a holiday, spending time as a teenager.