4.
"He has to go to school!" Mr Holmes said. "It's long past time that he went. He's been reading since he was two."
"My point exactly, what possible thing can they teach him that he doesn't already know?" Mrs Holmes said as she tore up the letter from the local state school and threw it in the bin.
"This isn't me fighting you dear. It's the law."
"Those laws weren't made for children like ours. Mycroft is not a normal boy. Can you imagine what it would be like for him at school, among children who are so much his inferior intellectually?"
"Then we can get him put into a higher grade."
"And have them beat him up for being different?"
"But, he needs to learn to get along with children his age."
"Why? They aren't like him. They will never be like him."
"I haven't said anything before, because I know how much this means to you, but you can't raise our son in isolation. He has to learn to interact with other people."
"He interacts with his piano teacher."
"No, I mean he has to learn to interact with other children."
"No."
"You can't fight the state."
"Watch me."
5.
Mycroft was coughing when the woman saw him. Mother had told him not to get out of bed when the woman came, but he had dressed in advance and even put on his tie. He was nervous. The woman had blond hair pulled back in a bun and a serious face. She transformed it into a fake smile when she saw him. Then she entered the room and sat down in a chair at his bedside.
The window was open, and Mycroft could hear the birds outside on the grounds, but it was his mother's presence which dominated his thoughts. She was wearing her public face which had a slight smile, but her hands were tense. He knew that he was an actor in this drama, and he must be perfect or something horrible would happen. What, exactly, he wasn't sure. He coughed again. Whatever mother had put in his tea had made it hard to breathe, and he tried over and over to cough it out.
"Hello, Mycroft," the woman said holding out her hand. "My name is Mrs Weston."
Mycroft looked at her hand, and then down at his own. He had coughed into his handkerchief, but some of it had spilled over onto his fingers. He wiped them, but that just spread even more germs on them. The woman realizing his distress put down her arm, and sat back in her chair. "Well then, I've come here to see how you are, and to ask you if you would like to go to school. You are four years old, aren't you?
He glanced at his mother, and then realizing he was doing it, he looked down. "Well, my birthday is in a few months. I'm almost five."
"Really? Then I'm not a moment too soon. It must be boring for you being home all alone. Wouldn't you like to go to school and meet other children your age?"
"No, not particularly."
"You don't? But I'm sure you want to learn things. You wouldn't want to end up stupid would you?"
Mummy jumped at that. Sitting up in that stiff way that she did when someone had offended her. Mrs Weston hadn't noticed.
"I'm not dumb. And I do get an education. My mother teaches me, and there are tutors."
"Really? So what kind of things do you study?"
"I study music, piano and cello. And there is an archery teacher who comes once a month. But during the day my mother oversees my lessons."
"Really, and what subject do you like best?"
"Languages."
"You study languages? How nice. Which one are you studying?"
"French for one. My grandmother taught me to speak it ages ago, but I study grammar. I've been reading Voltaire. Then there is Italian, and Spanish, and Welsh."
"My! So many."
"And German. And we listen to records of other languages to get an idea for how the sounds are produced. I particularly like tagalog. And I study Greek and Latin of course."
"Ah, is that all?"
"No. I'm trying to find a tutor for the languages of the Indian subcontinent, but Mr. Jones at the butcher shop has horrible pronunciation. He suggested his cousin who is a taxi driver, but he's out of town at the moment."
"Do you think that it is good to have him exposed to so many things so early? What about the basics."
"What basics do you mean?"
"Reading, writing, social skills, maths."
"Oh mom has been teaching me maths since I was little," Mycroft said. "I quite like algebra and geometry."
"Of course, who wouldn't?" Mummy Holmes said.
The teacher glanced at Mrs Holmes and then to the boy. "Let me get this straight. You are four, and you are studying Algebra?"
"And Geometry. I've proven a number of theorems. Euclid is fun, don't you think?"
"Euclid?"
"You do know Euclid, don't you? I thought that you were supposed to be a teacher."
"Well, I am but. My, you are forthright in your opinions aren't you?"
"Did I say something wrong? Why did you clench your teeth when I said that? Did I make you angry questioning your knowledge? What happens to students who object to your teaching? Do you beat them?"
"No. Of course not."
"Then what do you do when someone makes you mad? Do you spank children? I have heard that such things happen in school. If I said that in school would you spank me?"
"No, we don't abuse children in our school."
"What will you teach me then?"
"All kinds of things, like art and reading and ...uh."
"Art? Do you have paintings in the school?"
"Why yes, the students paintings are often on display."
"Not students paintings, real ones. I've been reading about Picasso and Van Gogh. Do you have any of their paintings?"
"Not in reception, but when you get older, the higher schools will sometimes visit an art museum."
"I can do that myself without going to school."
"But don't you want to meet children your own age?"
"Why?"
"To make friends."
"Are you saying that you are not my friend?"
"I ...uh.."
Mycroft coughed again and then reached out for the glass of water at his bedside.
"My son needs his rest, if you don't mind us returning to the study."
"No, I don't mind."
The woman left then. Mycroft waited until their footsteps faded away before going to the bathroom to wash his hands. He went back to his room then and looked out of the window at the bright day. The birds continued their chirping. The front door opened, and the woman left. He watched the car drive away, and then his bedroom door opened. "Come into the kitchen Mycroft," Mummy said.
He rose from the windowsill and adjusted his tie. He wasn't sure how he had done. When he entered the kitchen he found on the table in front of his chair, a glass of milk, and three lemon biscuits. "That was very good." she said.
"Who was that woman, Mummy?"
"She wanted to see if you were being mistreated."
"Mistreated? You mean she thought that you beat me?"
"No. But other people go to school at your age."
"Why shouldn't I go to school mother?"
"School is for ordinary people, Mycroft. People who will have ordinary jobs and ordinary, dull lives. Now finish that up. Your cello teacher will be here in less than an hour."
"Yes, Mummy."
6.
Mr Holmes loosened his bow tie and turned toward his wife who sat on the edge of the bed. He smiled slyly as he walked toward her. Then he kissed her, his right hand sliding up her leg toward her thigh.
"Darling, we have to talk." she said.
"What about?" he said as he kissed her neck.
"About Mycroft."
"He's asleep. I just checked on him." He unbuttoned his shirt and reached around her to unzip her dress. He was just starting on her bra when she said.
"Do you think that it's time that Mycroft had a little brother or sister?"
Mr Holmes froze. He pulled his head back. "Why do you ask?"
"Because I stopped taking the pill a few weeks ago."
"Are you pregnant?"
"No! Last week you had that problem with your back, and you've been busy with work. This is the first time since then that it has come up."
"Don't you think that you should have told me if you were going to try to have a baby?"
"I'm telling you now!"
Mr Holmes sat down. "So what started all of this?"
"I was watching Mycroft. He doesn't like me to see him playing. He's always trying to show how adult he is, but he plays with his stuffed animals when I'm not watching."
"Yes."
"And I heard him say that he wished that he had someone real to play with."
"We could send him to school."
"No. At least not yet. But, if he had a little brother or sister. He'd have someone else like him. He wouldn't be so lonely."
"There's no guarantee that we will have another genius child."
"We don't have to. A little brother or sister would be enough to show him how to care for another person."
"Couldn't we just give him a dog?"
"You know that I just got the couch upholstered. We can't have a puppy."
"But you think a baby would be less messy?"
"You told me before we were married, that you wanted to have two children."
"That was before I learned how hard it was."
"So you don't think that we should have another child?"
"I didn't say that."
"Then what do you think?"
"You're honestly asking my opinion?"
"Of course! It would be your child after all."
"You never ask me how to raise Mycroft."
"I'm sorry, but I don't want his education plan corrupted."
"So I corrupt things?"
"I saw you sneaking Mycroft that chocolate pudding the other day."
"He's a child, not a priest. I swear, sometimes I think we are raising him like he's Little Orphan Annie."
"You know what I said about showing him the wrong kind of stories. That can't be good for him."
"Why not? It shows the plight of the poor, and deliverance from evil."
"And then the girl's reward is a life of overindulgence where money is thrown at her. My God! her adopted father's name is Warbucks. He obviously was a war profiteer."
"We shouldn't be so hard on him. He's just a child."
"You haven't answered my question."
"What question?"
"Should we consider having another child?"
"Yes."
"Yes?"
"Yes, I think it's a good idea."
"Alright, then carry on."
"Carry on with what?"
"You know," she said pulling the dress off of her shoulder."
"Well, I'm not in the mood anymore."
"But..."
"Goodnight, dear." He climbed into bed and turned out the bedside lamp as Mrs Holmes, disappointedly pulled off her dress, and hung it up, before turning out the light and going to bed.
