The little blonde boy extended his hand politely to Sherlock who, after a few seconds later, shook it with his own. John smiled openly to him and then to Mr. Holmes who handle him his cup with milkshake. John took it and a shy "Thank you, Sir" left his mouth. Then, he took every cup of tea and handled it to Sherlock and Mrs. Holmes.
The little dark haired boy felt himself out of the scene he was witnessing. A new person, John, was intruding into his family. The people he was used to live with was different now. His parents were different now. His father was smiling openly and his cheeks were red of joy. The same was happening to his mother. God, even the maids were smiling happily to the new member there, and why he couldn't feel the same? Was it wrong to feel nothing?
"Would you like to see your room?"
John nodded shyly and Mr. Holmes excused himself, saying he had some phone calls to do leaving Sherlock with them. He really wanted to see what the maids were preparing with such enthusiasm and why his mother was carrying the boy upstairs giggling in excitement. But instead of following them, he went out to his laboratory. He had important experiments going, and those needed to be observed.
He couldn't remember how many hours he spent in his favourite place of the house with his gaze over a microscope when he heard the door open. The footsteps were different from everyone he knew, so when he turned his face he saw John closing the glass door carefully, like he was afraid of breaking it. Sherlock returned to his work when the other boy sat opposite him, looking all the petri dishes with eyes wide open, amazed, and with the clearly intention to talk to him. But he wasn't going to start a chat, no. If John wanted to talk to him, he was going to be the first to talk.
"Mrs. Holmes told me to come here. She said this is your laboratory. It's amazing"
Again, like he had a chronometer into his mind, Sherlock took his time and after 5.4 seconds he opened his mouth, never leaving his gaze off the microscope.
"I'm busy trying to see some blood cells"
He answered coldly, expecting him to leave, but it encourage the boy to talk a little bit more.
"Really? That must be exciting! I want to be a doctor when I grow up. And you?"
The young Holmes never replied his question, instead he changed the sample he was looking for another and kept focused on the microscope. He didn't want to talk to that boy. He was so different to him. He was someone stranger in his house. How could his parents do such a thing? And mostly important, why they didn't ask him before? It was like his opinion didn't count to them.
John felt the cold attitude and indifference coming from the other boy and left the old greenhouse, now laboratory in silence.
After a half an hour ago, little Sherlock was ready to go back to his house and maybe read a book when he hear the maids talking to John in the kitchen. He hide himself behind the door to listen what they were talking about. Apparently his mother left for tea with her friends and John was making a tour around the house.
He saw the boy sitting with the maid in the kitchen table drinking tea and eating biscuits, chatting and laughing about something.
"Do you like your home, Sir?"
"Don't call me 'Sir'. I'm John, please call me John"
Little Sherlock rolled his eyes and opened the door in silence feeling the gaze of all the service personnel over him. He could even feel John's eyes on him, but he ignored them and went straight to the stairs while one of the maids ran after him wondering if he will be needing anything.
"I don't want anything"
He answered coldly before the new maid could even open her mouth to ask. Once upstairs, he saw that the last room's door wich was his dead brother's room now seemed to be John's room.
Curiosity killed the cat, and Sherlock made his way to the last room in the hall. He knew John wasn't coming after the way he talked to him in the laboratory so he went in. Everything was like he remembered from the time his mother took him there. The walls had the same color mixed with white and some blue decorations. But the forniture had changed. There was a bed, a new closet and a library and a desk like his own. Apparently the maids made all the job after his mother's orders and the bed was made with a blue duvet and the curtains had the same color from the duvet, as the carpet over the floor wich was new. It was blue, like his mother's favourite color.
The library was as big as his own, but it only had two books. One of them was green, it was the same Biology book that Sherlock was reading for his classes with Mr. Kessington. It was an old version and it was broken and some pages were lost. Sherlock knew that coming from an orphanage, the boy didn't have any money to afford the latest version and a more posh edition. The other book was 'Alice in the Wonderland' and it was as old as the other one but it had a different name written inside. Harriet.
Who was Harriet? He remembered his mother talking about the boy's alcoholic sister. Apparently the book belonged to her and he kept it maybe as a memory from his sister and only relative. Nothing more interesting was in that room to Sherlock Holmes's eyes. He left the room and went to his own and caught his Biology book from his desk and started reading it, forgetting everything about John. In his book, he had a large picture of a skull with all his parts well described. Sherlock had always wanted a skull of his own to keep beside his bed. He was wondering how the bone could feel under his fingers. He could get everything he wanted from his parents, but the human skull was an exception. No matter how much he asked, his parents always said no. But he was a very determined person. If he wasn't going to get a human skull now, he will get one once he grow up.
But a few moments later, his mother opened his door smiling. She looked happy, and they were almost coming into the third week of the month. She wasn't sad or lost in her mind like she used to do before. The new boy was making huge changes in minus than twelve hours. And Sherlock felt it.
"Dinner is ready, Sherlock"
He washed his hands and once downstairs he found his parents already sitting at the table. John was sitting beside Mrs Holmes opposite to Sherlock's place. He sat and the maids served them dinner.
Dinners usually were silent, unless Mr Holmes was in the middle of a political campaign or he was very preoccupied with the country situation. But that night the head of the family wasn't talking about politics, economics or press conferences and his mother wasn't nodding with her head as always. This time they were talking with John.
"Did you like your room, John?"
The boy nodded shyly to Mr. Holmes, ready to answer any questions they could have for him. Sherlock studied his parents during dinner. They were excited, like someone who has a knew possesion. To him, John was like a new piece of furniture his mother found atractive and his father was proud to bought it just to please her. To Sherlock, John was a replacement to the original John Holmes and nothing more than that.
"John, can you play any musical instrument?"
"Yes Mrs. Holmes. The nuns at the orphanage taught me how to play the clarinet"
Elizabeth opened her eyes and smiled openly. Her first passion was music and she felt lucky to have another child to taught him music and play with him her favourite musical pieces.
Little Sherlock's eyes never left the unfinished plate with pasta that the chef prepared for them that night until Mrs. Holmes excused herself and took John to her favourite room. He was waiting a few moments to climb the stairs and finish his reading when his father ordered him to go with him to his office. He just nodded and followed his father, feeling strange. He never visited his father's office unless he ordered him to. That was Mycroft's place. His older brother was the one who always shared tea there with his father while they discussed 'mundane topics' like he loved to say. But he knew since Mycroft left home to attend school, he was going to replace him in some way.
"Sit, son"
He sat in the leather chair in front of his father's desk, wondering what he was going to tell him when they heard a noise coming from upstairs. The noise was definetly a piano, but instead of a pair of hands playing, there were two pairs. His mother was teaching John how to play. He could feel the difference of the tempos and even the boy's shaking hands when he touched the instrument.
"Sherlock, I sit you here because I need to talk to you"
The young kid just nodded, wanting to say that he knew it and he wasn't a fool. Not like his father just sat him there to see each other's faces.
Richard Holmes told him what he already knew about John's adoption. His mother liked John since the first moment she noticed him reading the same book he had. She even commented her husband how he looked like Mycroft when he had that age. And when they knew John was born the same day John Holmes died, she wanted to take him with her.
"I know you don't like to know about this... issues. But I'm in the middle of a difficult political campaign and the stadistics positioned me in the first place. If I become the Prime Minister, I'll the first Holmes occupying such position"
Again his son just nodded, moving his feets trying to focus on what his father was telling him. Between the noises from a boy without any experience with a piano and his father talking about politics he felt like his head was going to explode.
"I knew the news of Richard Holmes adopting a kid would be the thing I needed to complete my campaign. And your mother wanted him so badly, that I couldn't stop her. I want you to understand that he's not going to replace your brother, Sherlock"
"I understand."
His father smiled at him. He understand the gesture as 'you can go now' and Sherlock made his way to the door, until his father told him something before he could open the door.
"Be good with him. He likes you."
The next day he woke up with the noise of a loud laugh coming from the garden. He rubbed his eyes with his hands and went to his window to see John and his mother sitting in the grass with one of the maids replacing some pots and removing ground. His mother loved her red roses and she was teaching John how to take care of them.
He remembered that it was saturday and he had no classes that day, so he decided to take a shower and have breakfast downstairs.
Little Sherlock sat in his usual place in the living room and without saying a word, Clara placed a cup of tea and three vanilla biscuits in front of him not without a warm smile. He never spoke more than a few words to the service personnel but the new maid seemed to like him, and she was the only who ever talk a word and smiled at him.
"Thank you"
"It's a lovely day, Sir. You should go out with your mother and your brother John."
His brother John. Those words resonated into his mind and with a cold glance to the maid, he took his mug and the cookies and left the house in silence, making his way to his laboratory. He was walking behind the backs of his mother and John so he was expecting to cross the garden without them noticing him when his mother turned his head.
"Sherlock, come with us! I'm teaching John how to plant roses"
He looked at his mother, really wishing to stay with her but when his eyes fell over John his idea vanished in his mind. Little Sherlock shook his head and went inside the old greenhouse, placing his mug in the counter and throwing the cookies to the closest bin he coul found.
There was something about John Sherlock couldn't approve. Something that made him twist his mouth in disapproval. He hadn't met his brother, the real John Holmes since he died inside his mother and he was born a few years later, but he felt like this John was a fake. This John Holmes was a fake copy of the previous John and his mother was trying to convince herself that this John, this boy who came from an orphanage was the baby she lost eleven years ago. Even knowing that his father agreeded to the adoption just to please his mother and for his political campaign, he knew that he liked this boy too. He could tell by the way his father smiled at the boy. A warm smile that used to belong to Mycroft and him, now was John's smile too.
His mother interrupted his thoughs when she opened the door with her hand stick to John's.
"Mycroft is back. Come with us, I want John to meet him."