Origins

Chapter Three

"What do you mean that I'm going to stay with Nana?!"

Though Sherlock's jaw hurt like hell after his outraged shout at the breakfast table, his level of annoyance with his parents' announcement was two-fold. He didn't understand; it wasn't even his fault that he got the snot beaten out of him, and now they were just going to just casually send him off to stay with the most annoying woman on the entire planet?

What in God's name was their logic behind that decision?

"It's just for a few days, Sherlock," Chris said calmly from behind the morning paper that he was scanning. "You haven't seen Nana in months, and she would love to have you stay with her."

So this brilliant plan belonged to none other than Daddy. Of course.

"But-but I don't want to! Mum!" Sherlock looked to Linda for help, but to his dismay, she just shrugged.

"Your father's right, Sherlock."

"But-!"

"We've already called Nana and told her that you were coming," Linda continued without skipping a beat. "It's better than staying here at any rate; I'm sure you'll find plenty of insects and animals to observe and study while you're out there."

Which was at least an upside to visiting Nana Holmes. She lived on the outskirts of Flitwick, a small farming town a couple hours out of the city.

But Linda's reassurance still didn't make Sherlock any less irritated.

"But Nana is boring!"

His parents looked to each other, both of them obviously expecting that argument.

"She's a grandmother, Sherlock," Linda said as she took a seat at the table. "Grandmothers are supposed to be a little boring."

Sherlock looked between them furiously, his mind racing to come up with a rebuttal. "But I'm recovering from a very traumatic experience."

"Oh, please. That didn't stop you from going out to investigate the rumor of the haunted hotel the next town over last summer."

"And not to mention, you almost broke your other arm solving the mystery," Chris finished as he folded the newspaper. Sherlock opened his mouth to further plead his case, but looking at his parents closely, he could tell that it was going to be no use. They had made up their minds, and there was no changing them.

"You didn't even ask me if I wanted to go," he finally grumbled, stabbing at his pile of eggs with his fork.

"Because we knew you would get on like this." With a sweep, Linda got up from the table. "Now, finish your breakfast; we're leaving in an hour."

With more force than what was probably necessary, Sherlock stuffed the rest of the scrambled eggs in his mouth and slunk out of his chair to make his way toward his bedroom. He felt like he was dragging thousand pound weighs on each ankle with the amount of dread that he was feeling. It wasn't fair; they hadn't even offered him a choice with his punishment! He would've rather scrubbed all of the toilets in the house with his toothbrush than be sent away to Nana's house. Where the hell did they get off just making decisions about what he was to do with his time without telling him?

He brutally slammed his bedroom door behind him. Though his parents understood very little in general, they could at least understand that.

The tension in the car could've choked them all.

Sherlock watched as the countryside passed by in a blur, the rate of houses slowly declining to where there was broad land as far as the eye could see, an occasional farmhouse popping up on the horizon. They had been driving for at least an hour, and he had yet to even try and accept, much less like the fact that he was staying with Nana Holmes for five days.

He could only imagine the useless nonsense that she would subject him to throughout his stay: the games of hide-and-seek and tag, the hours of helping her knit her latest quilt, and the amount of cookies that she would make him help her bake…

He hit his head against the car window.

"Sherlock" Linda sounded as though she was trying her absolute hardest to keep a level tone of voice.

"Just killing a bug," he said sullenly. He could feel his parents share a joint eye roll at his lame excuse and they continued to drive in silence. After what seemed like an eternity, Sherlock felt them drive the familiar curvy road to the house and the car began its climb up the hillside to the old farmhouse where Chris had grown up.

"Just seeing this place brings back memories," Linda murmured as she took her husband's hand. He tenderly squeezed her fingers as he parked the car on the gravel pad in front of the old, white farmhouse.

"All right," Chris said cheerfully. "We're here."

"Yes, that's obvious, Dad." Sherlock pursed his lips at his mother's noise of warning, and he threw open the car door, not even bothering to grab the overnight bag that was sitting next to him. They were the ones that dragged me here; let them get it. The wind chimes gently tinkered as a light breeze blew through, and Linda walked up next to him.

"See? It's so serene." She took a deep breath. "Just what you need."

Sherlock stared at her profile in disbelief.

"Forgot your bag back there, son," Chris said as he walked up to them, Sherlock's bag on his shoulder. "Come on, I bet Nana is just jumping with excitement." He led the way, Sherlock and Linda following close behind as they walked the old wooden stairs of the porch. "Mum, we're here!" Chris called as he opened the screen door.

"Oh, already?" Ruth came out from the kitchen, her wild unruly hair in a messy bun and flour covering her apron, hands and lower arms. "I wasn't expecting you all for another hour!" Without thought for her state, she pulled her youngest son in a hug and sloppily kissed his cheek. "Oh, and there's my darling Sherly!" She beamed and held out her arms. "Come and give your Nana a big hug!"

Linda nudged Sherlock's back and he stiffly walked to Ruth, almost cringing at her tight hug and girlish squeal of delight.

"Oh, we're going to have such a good time together," she said, petting his hair with her flour-covered hand. "I'm so glad you're here, Sherly; I've got so many cookies I've got to bake for the upcoming bake sale in town. I'll need my little chemist to help me measure out all the ingredients! Doesn't that sound fun?"

Sherlock wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole.

"Exhilarating." He pulled out of Ruth's embrace and turned around to take his bag from Chris, shooting both of his parents a horrible glare.

"Won't you stay for tea?" Ruth asked, reaching to pull Linda into a hug and plant a kiss on her cheek.

"No, no, we've got to get back. Chris has some work to catch up on at the office, and I've got some shopping that I need to do."

"Oh, all right then. Sherly, go put your bag away; we've got to get started on those cookies!" Ruth walked away and back into the kitchen, starting to gather ingredients and utensils together.

Sherlock sighed. "I hate you both so much right now."

"Oh, don't be like that, Sherlock. We'll be back to get you in a few days." Chris ruffled his son's hair. "Don't cause too much trouble, yeah?" he said with a wink. Sherlock sent him a scowl that he hoped would set him on fire. Linda walked up and kissed his cheek.

"Try to be patient with Nana," she said softly in his ear. "I know she can be a handful-"

"That's an understatement."

"But she's still your nana." She pat his cheek as she pulled back. "We'll call and check on you later. Try to have a good time?" With a final wave, Chris and Linda walked out of the house and Sherlock watched as they climbed back into the car and drove away down the hillside.

"Sherly, come now!" Ruth hollered from the kitchen. "I've got everything ready for our baking extravaganza!"

I'm going to die here. With a deep, pained sigh, Sherlock walked down the hall and into his father's old bedroom and threw his bag against the wall, flopping down on the bed to huddle into the fetal position. In the silence of the bedroom, he felt his initial rage at the situation disappearing and in its place came the sense of pure dread that he felt back at home. He was stuck in the middle of nowhere, where absolutely nothing of consequence or excitement happened and forced to play chef and quilt-maker to his loud and boisterous grandmother.

Try to have some fun, Mum said. Easy for her to say. He scoffed and rolled off the bed to go into the battle of the kitchen. Like having fun was even an option.

Mycroft knew that Uncle Rudy had connections; what he didn't know was just how fast those connections could work when put to use. A few days after their meeting in town, Mycroft had received a call from an official government employee and was scheduled for an interview of sorts. As far as he could tell, he wasn't sure what his job –if he even got it- was even going to entail, but a part of him couldn't help but be excited all the same.

A position in the British government sounded like the perfect career for his personality and lifestyle. And not to mention, if he got the right job, he could really use it to his advantage and maybe even keep a weather eye on his rambunctious little brother at the same time.

With a smile, he got up and went to his wardrobe to dig around for his one and only suit. He didn't know what exactly was going to happen in the interview, but if Uncle Rudy's words held any weight at all, he had a feeling that he would be exactly what they were looking for in an employee.