Summer with his warm and sunny days came to an end, and the boys were reading their books deeply concentrated on their last experiment 'The human vision' when they both heard his mother calling them from downstairs.
Both children left their books neatly on the desk near the window of the room, and went down wondering why Mrs. Holmes was calling them. It was something strange, since she always respected their time after lunch when they climbed the stairs and shared a few hours reading books and planning experiments to work during week. After that day, in wich John finally spoke to Sherlock, they had become very close. Anybody who haven't met them before could say they were real brothers. They had become inseparable in a way Sherlock would never admit. John was his best partner to work in his laboratory, always assisting and helping him to develope his most important experiments and he enjoyed his company during his read hours. They shared all their times with the other, and with proud and love, Mrs. Holmes saw how her kids were getting closer and closer everyday. Since John's arrival, she had been worried about Sherlock's reaction. She saw it the first day, and even the days after. But her husband Richard was right. They needed holidays alone, and maybe leaving them by themselves could help them to get more close. And it happened.
Now, everything was going in good course. Mycroft was going to attend to Cambridge soon, his husband won the elections becoming the new Prime Minister and she knew it was time for them to attend to school and spend more time with other children. The main problem was the school choice. She had managed with his first son sending him to Harrow, a boarding school. But with her youngest kids, she wanted them in the house, but at the same time she wanted them to interact with other kids.
Richard Holmes, now the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom rejected her idea at the first moment. He wanted them in Harrow, just like him and Mycroft and all the Holmes always did, but after discussing it with his wife, he agreed with her. Sherlock was special in terms of his social skills. Maybe it was good for him to attend to a more 'easy' school and stay at home. With John, the thing was similar. Elizabeth didn't want to separate them, and judging by the education he got in the orphanage the previous years, maybe the best thing for him was the same for Sherlock.
"Next week you're going to start school. We're going tomorrow to get you the uniforms and your books"
It was obvious to Sherlock that she was talking about the same school for them. But he glanced at John, who looked confused and happy at the same time. He knew he missed to interact with other kids since he used to live in a orphanage full with them.
Sherlock sighed in relief when his mother assured them they weren't going to a boarding school. He really didn't want to attend to a boarding school like Mycroft. He loved his laboratory and his house to leave it and stay far away from them most part of the year. John seemed to feel the same way as Sherlock. He spent most of the time of his life in an orphan, studying and living there, and he didn't want the same again. He wanted to go back to his home, help Sherlock and be with his family.
Both kids nodded to Mrs. Holmes and after planning the next day, they climbed the stairs ready to continue with their books. Sherlock sat in his bed to read under the sunlight through his window while John placed himself in front of it, sitting in the floor leg crossed. His elbows were on his knees and with his hands he supported his face. The curly haired boy raised his head to see John looking at the other books in his library.
"Did you read all these books?"
"Not exactly"
John stood up from the floor and took a good view from all the books there. If he wasn't wrong, Sherlock had more than one hundred books. Most of them were science books specialized in different areas such as Physics, Biology and Chemistry but he also had fictional books, with a large variety of writers. But he noted a few ones from Arthur Conan Doyle. He never read any book from him, but he knew he was a very good writer in criminal stories in which the main character used to solve crimes using his deductive skills. It remind him of Sherlock. They only had lived together for a few months, but Sherlock never stopped amazing him. He could say a lot of one person just looking. He even tried to work things out like him, but he failed. He never told Sherlock about it, feeling a little bit embarrased, but he told him that he needed to train himself. 'You see, but you just don't observe.'
They had the same classes. Sherlock knew every teacher of every different subject would ask them if they were relatives since they shared the same last name, but it didn't happen. He had his own suspicions that his mother declared to their teachers about their situation and let's face it, they were the children of the Prime Minister. It wasn't molecular science. John didn't say anything about it, but he knew the boy shared the same thought.
In the breaks between classes they keep together side by side, sitting under a tree and watching the other kids chatting about different things. John told him about how his life was back in the orphanage. "It was just like school." he confessed him. He also told him about how was living there, expecting every day to someone to pick one of them and give them a family. He also trusted him that he used to believe he would never be adopted since he was a big boy, and naturally couples always wanted babies.
"But Mummy choose me, so..."
The other boy contemplated how the word 'Mummy' left John's mouth. He said it so naturally, just like Mycroft. He even remembered the first time John said that word. It happened a few weeks before start school. They were working together in the laboratory when his mother interrupted them saying it was time to have a bath because they had to attend to some party his father was giving when John accidentally dropped the word. "I'm sorry, I-"
Mrs Holmes, far away from be angry smiled at him and gave him a slightly squeeze in his shoulder. "It's all fine John, you know my husband and I are your parents now. Don't be shy, everything it's fine." John blushed furiously and looked at Sherlock, fully embarrased. The dark haired boy smirked at him and they continued working in silence. He knew the blonde thought he was going to be mad, but he wasn't. He never said anything about it.
"Are you happy living with us?"
John smiled at him, and stood up from the green grass offering Sherlock a hand. The bell rang and it was time to get into their next class. He took the hand and they walked together side by side heading to the classroom. "Of course I'm happy. You are my family, Sherlock."
"...we are different! You were just a replacement. You're not John Holmes. You're not my brother!"
He tried very hard not to fall to the floor. His knees were strong, but not his eyes. Heavy and painful tears fell over his cheeks. The man in front of him saw the damage he have caused.
The school day ended quickly and after the sound of the bells the boys were walking outside the building finding Charles already waiting for them in the family car. The ride back home was silent, until they passed the Orphanage in wich John used to live.
"Charles, can you please stop here?"
The driver did as he was told and John got out the car, and walked a few steps until he was near the playground. He didn't need to turn around to see Sherlock standing just behind him. "I used to sit there and read my book." John pointed with his left index finger a point near a the end of the place. It was empty, and lots of kids of different ages were running from one place to another playing games. None of them stopped to see the two kids in school uniforms watching them from outside, not even the nuns.
He felt speechless. His mouth was dry and he felt the need of touch John and tell him everything was OK. But his body couldn't react. He only walked a few steps until he was side by side with John, when he took his hands with his. His hands were warm and soft and despite the height difference, Sherlock didn't need to lower his eyes to see a little tear fall from John's eye.
"Let's go back home. Mummy must be waiting for us"
John cleaned his face quickly before got back in the car. The silence during the rest of the way back their home was painful for Sherlock. He really felt like he needed to say something to John, to assure him everything was fine, that everything will be aways fine. But he couldn't.
John's eyes were glued to the road until they arrived home. Before Sherlock could take his bag and made his way out of the car, John took his hand and smiled at him, telling him to not tell Mummy about their stop. He couldn't do anything more than nod to John's request promising he will never say a word about it.
"Can you remember our first day at school? We stopped in the Orphanage in our way back home. You showed me the place you used to sit and read. Can you remember, John?"
"I cried"
"I'm sorry, John"
The following days, weeks and months passed calmly and quickly before anyone could even notice. It was snowing so hard that Mrs. Holmes banned them to go out to the garden to work in their laboratory. And after not finding an interesting book to read, a crap show on telly, or even a old homework from school, they ended walking through all the house looking for something to do when Mycroft arrived.
The elder brother greeted both kids and they shared cups of milkshake and cake in the afternoon. He secretly noted how Sherlock had become closer to John and how they talked to each other. The last time he saw them, Sherlock treated him like an alien, like someone who didn't belong to them. Now they were equals, and even the curly haired boy used to smile to him. Mycroft had recieved a few letters from Mummy with updated information of the boys. She was very proud of them and happy to see how they developed their relationship every day.
And now he could see that with his own eyes. Even little details like small touches and smirks hidden behind him. The huge differences between them such their hair color, their eyes, their face shape, all those physical differences wasn't worth comparing in how similar they were at the same time. How they could understand each other with just a glare and a smile.
"We are brothers, John."
Silence fell over them. The other man couldn't help but try to get close to him. But the recent graduate Doctor stepped back.
"You said it. Don't you remember, Sherlock? You said the truth. We are not brothers"
"John, I didn't mean it-"
"You said it Sherlock. We are different."
It was the first Christmas of the Holmes with John. Elizabeth took good care choosing the most big and beautiful tree John could have ever seen. It was as tall as the ceiling, and the maids have to use a long ladder to decorate it. And finally, with Mycroft's help both kids put the angel up in the tree.
In the floor, Richard and Elizabeth placed the countless gifts all wrapped in colorful wrappers with huge bows. And the kids played all the afternoon trying to deduce what was inside each present. Eventually Sherlock could deduce most of them, but he didn't tell John because he wanted him to be surprised in the Christmas morning. If he wasn't wrong, John was getting some jumpers, a book, a pair of new shoes and there was a large box he couldn't really picture what was inside. He didn't touch it too much, afraid he could break whatever was inside. He also deduced his presents and told them to his brother. Shirts, a new laboratory equipment and something else he couldn't deduce was a small package adress to him. He felt a little bit disappointed knowing the skull wasn't under the christmas tree that year.
"And Mycroft is getting new clothes because again he put on weight again, five to seven punds, and a new and classy bag for university"
"That's fantastic, Sherlock!"
"You know you do that aloud?"
Before John could reply something, the news at the telly caught Sherlock's attention. A boy about his age died drowned in a swimming competition in a pool in Bristol South Swimming Pool. The reporters were explaining that apparently the kid, Carl Powers suffered an epilepsy attack during the competition and no one could save him. John recognised the kid immediatly when the photo appeared in the screen. He was their classmate.
"He didn't had epilepsy. Someone killed him."
He ran to Mycroft, his mother and even his father saying all his deductions convinced someone killed Carl Powers and that he needed to call the police. All of them couldn't help him, not because they doubted about his deductive skills, they weren't fools to not notice Sherlock's intelligence, but they knew the police would refuse to hear an underage kid with deductive skills.
After that, he was angry. He knew someone killed Carl Powers and he really wanted to prove it, but no one care about it but John. The blonde kid sat beside him in his bed and with a squeeze in his hand, Sherlock told his brother all his deductions and how he knew the kid was murdered.
"It's all fine, Sherlock. I believe you."
"Please, don't go-"
"I'm a doctor, and my country needs me."
Sherlock Holmes was right. John got his jumpers, pair of classy shoes, a Grey's Anatomy book and a stethoscope. His parents really wanted him to be a doctor, and far away of feeling pushed John took it naturally, the total opposite from Sherlock who disliked every push his father or even his mother could do over him to be something in particular. Mycroft and John seemed happy with it, but he didn't.
He got everything he deduced. Shirts, a new laboratory equipment and the small package contained a leather little bag full with little equipment for work. His mother explained to him that it was perfect for him to investigate at every moment and every place he wanted. Obviously, she didn't forgot to warn his son about his use. Not in the middle of the classes and not in his father's partis.
That Christmas morning both kids and his older brother were sitting in the large sofa, all together watching their parents in a public event in London. His father was recieving a few soldiers after a campaign in some foreing country and Sherlock could see how John looked at them in amazement. Mycroft also saw that, and he didn't doubt to ask him about it.
"Joining the army in the future, John?"
"I like them. I'd like to be a doctor and a soldier"
"That's dull"
John frowned at him and took another sip of his hot chocolate. "For the Queen and for the country, John." replied Mycroft, smiling at him.
Who would say a few months ago how his little brother was going to change? Everything started looking behind a door wich used to hide a secret everyone knew but Sherlock. The secret was the death of a brother who practically died before he could be alive. Many years after, Sherlock Holmes asked about it, not even knowing what was behind. A cradle, blue curtains, a blue carpet and a piece of fabric with the name John embroidered with blue threads were hidden behind the last door of the hallway.
After that, it wasn't a secret anymore. There wasn't any need to keep that door closed.
And John was back again to their lives. More alive than ever, ready to bring the hope and love all the family needed. This John, was different. He was a mystery Sherlock couldn't resolve completly.
John H. Holmes become his brother without him noticing it. Everyone could say they were different, but they were more than similar. They complemented each other. Sherlock wasn't the same kid without John.
They were going to be more than brothers.
"Please John, don't go"
The other man took the rest of his belongings and placed them in his bag and turned around to see the other man, maybe for the last time. He also looked at his room. The blue carpet had some old stains as a result of many experiments made years ago, and his old books 'Alice in the Wonderland' and 'Biology' were placed on his desk. The dark haired man looked like he was almost going to fall to the floor and beg him to stay. But it was late. Words spoken hurt him. Those words killed him. Sherlock's words killed John Holmes forever.