Depression ahoy! Sherlock and To The Moon do not belong to me. That is all. Reviews and stuff... yep, thanks!
They arrived in the boys' bedroom. Sherlock was sitting at the desk writing something while Sherringford was sitting on the top bunk of a bunkbed, reading a book. "Hey mate, you should definately give this series a try," Sherringford said, looking down at his brother. "I mean really, it's just really cool! I've already plowed through three books straight!"
Sherlock turned in his seat to look at his twin, "What's it called?" he asked.
"Animorphs!" Sherringford replied cheerfully, "It's about this group of kids turning into animals to fight mind controlling slugs!"
"Meh, I don't like that weird alien stuff," Sherlock said, turning back to what he'd been writing before.
Sherringford cocked his head, "Why not? It's great! Instead of going to boring school, they get to turn into tigers and maul big bad aliens! They're all like 'rawr rawr! RAWR RAWR RAWR! And then they pick up lasers! And it's all like 'pew pew! PEW PEW PEW PEW'!"
"Pew pew pew pew pew pew pew-"
Sherlock cut him off, "Stop that!" Sherringford just laughed, flopping back on the bed and staring at the bedroom ceiling.
"Just watch, Sherlock. One day, I'm gonna be a famous writer. I'll write the coolest novel on the block, and every kid will get my book for free. I'll make us rich, and buy you, and Mycroft, and Mummy really big houses."
"How would you get rich if you give away the books for free?" Sherlock asked skeptically, turning and looking back up at his brother.
Sherringford sat back up, "Free for the kids, the parents'll still have to pay, of course!"
Little Sherlock just rolled his eyes, "Yeah, I'm sure the parents'll be thrilled to give you money," he said sarcastically, returning to his work.
There was a moment of silence before Sherringford asked, "What, you're still mad about the other day?" When Sherlock didn't answer he slouched slightly, "Aw c'mon, I called first dibs on the train fair and square! What happened to your prize anyway?"
Sherlock couldn't ignored his brother, no matter how hard he pressed his pencil into the paper. "I gave it away," he replied simply, not looking up.
"To a hobo?"
Sherlock slammed the pencil down and looked up at his brother crossly, "Look, it's not just about that day!" He sighed, turning back to the desk and rested his cheek on his hand, "You know Mummy always favoured you."
Sherringford shook his head, "Hey, that's not true!"
"Remember last Christmas? And last Easter, and the time we went fishing, and-"
"Okay okay, you know what, you can have my train if you want!" Sherringford said, not wanting to see his brother upset.
Sherlock's face lit up slightly, "Really?" he asked, as though he couldn't believe it.
Sherringford grinned and nodded, his black curls bouncing in all different directions, "Yup! I mean hey, by your reasoning, she'll just get me another one, right?"
Slightly upset, Sherlock turned back to the desk again. Sherringford realized he'd said the wrong thing and tried a different approach. "Listen, Sherlock. What difference does it make who 'owns' what? Everything that's mine, is yours too. I mean, we both get to play with it, right?"
Sherlock seemed to consider this for a moment before nodding slowly, "Yeah," he said quietly.
"Right!" Sherringford chimed enthusiastically. "I mean c'mon, you're my twin brother. You're like a part of me!" Thunder crashed outside and Sherringford looked out the window before abandoning his book and jumping off his bunk. "Oy! Let's go confuse the neighbors!" he said, heading out the door.
Sherlock followed, a little more warily. "Wait, in the rain?" he asked. "Won't that upset Mycroft?" he asked .
"Yes it will! C'mon!" Sherringford called, laughing. Sherlock beamed, a mischevious glint in his eyes, before following his twin out into the pouring rain. The two doctors watched them go, feeling even more sad after finding out just what happened to Sherringford. He seemed like a good kid, and even though Sherlock was jealous, he obviously loved him.
They went back in time using the train the boys had spoken to each other about, and arrived at a lively carnival. The two doctors bantered a bit before going to look for Sherlock. He was standing near a booth with his two brothers and his mother.
Sherlock was upset, because he wanted the train as his prize since he'd won. However Sherringford had won it before him. Sherringford tried to comfort him, telling him that he could play with the train too.
"See how nice your brother is, Sherlock?"
Young Sherlock didn't say anything, instead he pouted as the person running the game moved them along. Mummy began leading them towards another stand, Sherringford following eagerly behind. Mycroft stayed towards the back with Sherlock, holding his hand and telling him the cheap plastic toy wasn't worth being upset about. He distracted Sherlock by telling him some things he'd deduced about the man running the game, causing his little brother to smile and laugh.
Dr. Watts saw what game they'd been playing and his eyes went wide. Whac-a-mole was apparently a game he knew well. Dr. Rosalene didn't understand it, so Dr. Watts took it upon himself to demonstrate for her. He made himself visible, marching up to the game and asking to play. He beat the moles, missing more often than not. Therefore, he didn't win anything, however he was satisfied.
They made themselves invisible once more and caught up with Sherlock and company. They were observing a fortune teller, Sherringford and their Mother looking mystified while Mycroft and Sherlock looked like they wanted to tear the man apart and expose his every trick. He wasn't even predicting people, just throwing out random things that sounded good. He said Sherringford would be a lawyer, and Sherlock a doctor.
"Oh my! C'mon, I'm getting both of ya treats!" she exclaimed, leading them towards a booth that sold ice cream. Sherlock and Mycroft just rolled their eyes, Sherringford just wanted ice cream and didn't care that the fortune teller was a phoney. On their way to the ice cream, they passed the world's smallest ferris wheel, that could not be ridden and didn't even work. Mycroft pointed it out to Sherlock, "It appears someone glued some chairs to a water-wheel." Sherlock giggled.
In the end, Sherringford gave up on the ice cream when he saw another stand selling pickled olives. He chose that over the ice cream, Sherlock seemed baffled. As they sat down at a table to eat, Mycroft making sure Sherlock didn't make a mess, Sherringford grinned and poped an olive in his mouth.
"Mm-mmmmm" Sherringford emphasised.
Sherlock wrinkled his nose "I can never understand you, Sherringford. How can you stand the taste of them?" he asked, "They're just so sour and... revolting."
"Sour and awesome is what you mean," Sherringford replied. He pulled out an olive and offered it to Sherlock, "Just try it!" he said. Sherlock reeled away from it in disgust, hiding his face in Mycroft's side.
"Naw, I don't even wanna taste regular olive."
"You should try at least one, Sherlock. Who knows, maybe you'll like it," their mother chided.
"Yeah!" Sherringford said, once again trying to push the olive onto Sherlock.
Mycroft snatched it and poped it in his mouth, chewing it and swallowing it. "I'm not particularly fond of them, however they're bearable Sherlock. Perhaps one of these days I'll get you some regular olives. Those are much better," he said.
Sherlock made a face that said he clearly wasn't interested, before looking up at his mother, "I'm done. Can I go play?" he asked.
Their mother considered it before nodding, "Okay, but only at the playgroudn and not an inch too far!" she said. Sherlock quickly made his escape, grabbing his bag that had his prizes in it and running off to the playground. Mycroft watched him go, and once Sherlock was far out of sight he asked Sherringford for another olive.
The two doctors followed Sherlock all the way to the playground. He looked around at the other children, completely uninterested in them, before spotting a fallen log that went over the small stream that ran next to the playground. Sherlock climbed over it without a second thought, walking confidently up into the woods far from civilization.
Crickets chirped in the night as Sherlock marched on, hopping over some smaller streams and heading towards a cliff. Birds flew overhead, Sherlock admired them for a moment before sitting on a log on the edge of the cliff. The view was amazing, and the sky that night was covered in stars.
"It's a shame, though," Dr. Rosalene commented, "All these nice memories, lost and never found. And who knows how many more like it?"
Suddenly a rustling noise caught Sherlock's attention and both he and the doctors whipped around. Something was coming, Dr. Watts thought it was tigers. However he couldn't have been further from the truth.
A little boy, with blonde hair sticking up in all directions that reminded Dr. Watts of a hedgehog, and a plaid shirt, was tramping through the woods just as Sherlock had been. He looked to be about Sherlock's age too. Sherlock hopped off his log and went in investigate the newcomer.
"Hello," he said after a moment. The other boy looked up in surprise, seeming unsure what to do, before turning and walking back the way he'd come. "Wait, don't go!" Sherlock called, running after him and catching up. "I'm Sherlock, what's your name?"
The boy stopped, looking over his shoulder shyly, "You're at my spot," he said softly.
"Your spot?" Sherlock asked, he looked back and suddenly realized, "Oh! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to hog this place all to myself!" He stood akwardly for a moment, staring at his shoes, before asking, "Um, You wanna join me?"
The other boy seemed to consider it for a moment, "Are you here to watch the stars?" he asked.
"Are you?" Sherlock shot back.
One thing led to another, and soon the two boys were sitting side by side on the log, looking up at the sky together.
Sherlock remembered Mycroft telling him it was rude not to speak, so he tried to make conversation as best he could. "Just look at 'em. Did you know there were so many lights in the sky?" he asked.
"Yes," the other boy replied and Sherlock felt stupid, he fidgeted in his seat and looked down at his hands.
"Oh, uh, I did too!" Sherlock said akwardly.
Sherlock looked back up at the sky, "You said this was your spot, right?"
"Only during the carnival."
"Not a fan of the crowds?" Sherlock asked. When the boy didn't answer Sherlock hummed, "Me neither. Y'know, you still haven't told me your name yet."
"I"m not telling you," the boy said, "Everyone makes fun of it in school."
"Why?"
"They say it makes them want to go to the washroom," he said.
Sherlock smiled, "Your name is John then. That's not so bad. Nothing can be worse than 'Sherlock'," he said. When the boy, John, looked up at him in surprise Sherlock beamed, happy that his deduction had been correct.
"I mean, everywhere in the world, nearly everyone's named John!" Sherlock said.
John gave him a funny look, "Even in India?" he asked.
Sherlock nodded, "Probably! Who do you know that has the name Sherlock? No one, it's too different."
"What's wrong with that?"
Sherlock turned to look at John, "Hm?"
"What's wrong with having a name that's different?" John clarified.
"Well, it's weird. Other kids think that things that are different are wrong, and they don't want to be my friend. I mean, why would anyone want to talk to someone named Sherlock?"
"I wouldn't mind," John said quietly, glancing over at Sherlock, "Just for once, to have a name that's different from everyone else. It's like those lights in the sky. They all look the same from here, it's hard to isolate just one. However the moon is big, and different from all the stars. Everybody notices it and admires how pretty and special it is," he explained.
Sherlock looked at the moon, "Eh, I suppose," he said slowly, letting John's words sink in. There was a long bit of silence that made Sherlock slightly uncomfortable, and was surprised when John asked him a question this time.
"What do you think those stars up there are anyways?"
"My brother said they're giant burning spheres of gas," Sherlock replied knowingly. He remembered Mycroft showing him a book about the solar system, and about the stars.
John looked over at him, "Oh, I bet he's just making it up," he said.
Sherlock frowned, "Why would he lie to me?"
"Because, y'know, that's what siblings do. They make things up. My sister makes things up all the time. Santa, Easter Bunny, kangaroos... stuff like that," John said, and Sherlock couldn't help but chuckle. "Have you ever made an Easter Bunny out of stars?" John asked, returning his gaze to the sky.
"Like a constellation?" Sherlock asked.
John nodded, "Yes."
Sherlock thought for a minute, staring at the multitudes of stars, "Um, of other things," he said slowly, "Never tried a rabbit though."
"Do you want to make one?" John asked.
A challenge! Sherlock liked a challenge, he would beat this very average boy at his own game! "Yeah! We'll make the bestest constellation ever. Let's see who makes one out first! Okay, we'll start in three. Three, two, one, and st-"
Before Sherlock could finish John announced, "I see it."
Sherlock internally was crestfallen, "Where?" he asked, wondering how John had found one so fast.
"In the sky," John informed him, as though he'd asked a dumb question.
Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Uh, but where in the sky?" he asked.
John smiled, "Think big," he said. Sherlock searched the sky, a big rabbit? Why couldn't he see a big rabbit shouldn't it have been obvious? "Bigger than all the others," John encouraged, trying to give him a hint.
"I don't know," Sherlock said, shaking his head in defeat. He look up one last time and suddenly, he realized what John was trying to point out. "Wait a minute, wait a minute! I SEE IT!" he said excitedly.
"Tell me what you see," John said, his eyes never leaving the sky.
Sherlock pointed up, "There, right? There're the two ears and head!"
"What else?"
"And there! There're its two feet!"
"Yes, what else?"
"And, and the MOON! The moon is its big round belly!" Sherlock explained.
John was satisfied with his answer, and once more the two of them lapsed into silence. "So," Sherlock said, "What do you think they really are? The stars, I mean."
"I..." John seemed unsure, but he continued anyway, "I've never told anyone but... I've always thought they were lighthouses. Billions of lighthouses, stuck at the far end of the sky."
Sherlock smiled, "Wow, it must be lively up there,"
John shook his head, almost sadly, "But it isn't," he explained, "They can see all the other lighthouses out there, and they want to talk to them. But they can't, because they're all too far apart to hear what the others are saying. All they can do, is shine their lights from afar. So that's what they do. they shine their lights at the other lighthouses, and at me."
"Why you?" Sherlock asked.
"Because one day, I'm going to befriend one of them," John replied. Suddenly the blonde boy noticed the bag that was sitting at Sherlock's feet, "That bag, what's in it?"
Sherlock looked down at it, "Oh, it's the prise I won from the whac-a-mole! Did you get to play that game?" he asked.
John looked down at his hands, "I tried, but I'm not fast enough." He looked up at Sherlock and the two of them met each other's gazes for the first time that night, "What did you get from it?" he asked.
"I got a, thing," Sherlock said, hopping off the log and opening the bag to reveal a very familiar little platypus toy. "I don't really know what it is, it's some kind of a weird duck, beaver thing."
"May I see it?" John asked, and Sherlock handed it to him. The other boy examined it, laughing, "It looks so strange! I wish I could win one myself."
Suddenly Mycroft's voice was heard in the distance, calling for Sherlock. The boy in quesetion jumped, "Eek! That's my brother calling!" he said.
"Here," John said, offering the toy back to its owner. Sherlock shook his head, pushing it back into John's arms.
"You know what, keep it, its yours," Sherlock told him.
John looked a little confused, but wrapped his arms around the toy anyways, "Mine?" he asked.
Sherlock nodded, "Yeah, I can always get another. I don't like to brag, but I'm totally the best at that game!" he said, puffing out his chest slightly. He began to walk away when John called out to him.
"Will you be here next year?" he asked.
Once again Sherlock nodded, "Yup, will you?"
"Yes."
"Same place, same time?"
"Yes."
Sherlock crawled over the log and began walking back, John hopped off the log as well, clutching the platypus to his chest and watching Sherlock walk away. "What is you forget, or get lost?" John shouted after him.
The little boy turned around, looking at his new friend and then up at the sky, "Then we'll regroup on the moon, John! Right on the rabbit's tummy!"
"SHERLOCK!" Mycroft's voice sounded again, sounding a little more urgent and frantic this time.
"COMING!" Sherlock yelled in reply, quickening his pace. He skidded to a halt. "Oh, I forgot my hacky sack in the bag. You said you were slow right? Maybe it'll help!" John smiled and nodded. Sherlock started off again, running this time so that his brother wouldn't shout his name again.
John watched him until he was out of sight, before taking the hacky sack out of the bag and tossing it onto the log where he'd been sitting. He sat down himself where Sherlock had been, hugging the platypus and watching the stars.
"If they ever get lost?" Dr. Watts asked, "Wait, does that mean-"
Dr. Rosalene rolled her eyes, "Don't tell me you didn't see that coming.
Dr. Watts shook his head, "And here I thought this was gonna be an inspirational childhood dream story. I should've known that some kid would come alone and turn it into a cheesefest."
"I suppose now, we know what we must do to send him to the moon," Dr. Rosalene said.
"Wait, you aren't actually going to do it, are you?" Neil asked, worry creeping into his voice.
Eva turned and looked at him, "It's our job, Neil," she reminded him, "It's what we are contracted to do."
Dr. Watts grabbed her arm, "Damn it Eva, WAIT!" he called, but it was too late. She was already gone. "Eva..." he groaned, and looking at little John one last time, he followed his partner. He had an idea exactly where she was going, and he only hoped he wouldn't be too late to stop it.