Teeth
Sherlock was eating his luncheon as slowly as was humanely possible which annoyed Mycroft infinitely.
"You don't have to wait for me you know." Sherlock said as Mycroft began drumming his fingers lightly on the table.
"Actually I do. I have been told that I am to stay with you until you finish your meal because you don't eat well enough when left to your own devices." Sherlock looked at his plate miserably and pulled a face.
"Do hurry up Sherlock. I don't want to still be sitting here at dinner time." Sherlock sighed heavily but he began to eat slightly faster. Several minutes passed with Sherlock eating his lunch unhappily, and Mycroft staring into space.
Thoroughly fed up and not at all hungry, Sherlock surreptitiously dropped a piece of bread onto the floor. When his brother didn't react he dropped another, bigger chunk of bread onto the floor. Feeling pleased with his cunning, Sherlock broke his bread in half and dropped the slightly bigger half on the floor.
"Sherlock!" Sherlock looked up to see Mycroft watching him with one eyebrow raised questioningly; in his haste to get rid of the food he had forgotten to check whether Mycroft had been looking.
"Whatever's the matter? Just hurry up and eat your food."
"I'm not hungry." Sherlock wailed plaintively. "I can't eat all of this." Sherlock continued, looking wretchedly at his plate. He looked up at his brother imploringly. Mycroft sighed.
"Eat the apple." he said, "you can leave the rest."
"Just the apple?" Sherlock confirmed suspiciously.
"Yes. Only don't tell anyone how much you've left. And for heaven's sake hurry up. I've got better things to be doing this afternoon than watching you eat." Sherlock nodded, feeling slightly happier and picked up the apple. Another minute or two passed during which Mycroft began drumming on the table again.
Suddenly Sherlock spat a mouthful of apple onto his plate.
"What are you doing?" asked Mycroft exasperatedly.
"Tooth." Sherlock explained as he prodded at the chewed up apple.
"Pardon?"
"My tooth." Sherlock held up a small object.
"That's just a piece of apple. Is this some kind of ploy so you can leave the rest of that apple?" he asked as he cast a disinterred glance at he apple coloured object Sherlock was holding.
"No!" exclaimed Sherlock, "This is definitely my tooth."
"Sherlock, stop messing around and eat that apple, this is getting ridiculous."
"I can't eat an apple with a missing tooth!" Sherlock protested, waving the tooth in question around in the air in front of him. Mycroft got up and walked over to see what Sherlock was holding. He looked at it.
"Sherlock, that cannot be your tooth. None of your teeth have been wobbly* enough to come out." he said reasonably as he continued to examine the tooth. Sherlock sighed impatiently and squeezed the tooth.
"See!" he said "it's too hard to be a piece of apple," Mycroft had to admit his brother was right it did appear to be too hard to be a piece of apple.
"Open your mouth." he told his brother. Sherlock obliged.
"Wider." Mycroft said slightly impatiently, and Sherlock opened his mouth a fraction more. Mycroft put his fingers under his siblings chin and tipped his head back so he could see better.
"Oh yes." he said as he let go of Sherlock. "You're now missing one tooth."
"Told you! Which one?" Sherlock said eagerly.
"Bottom middle right." Sherlock grinned his familiar grin which was turned unfamiliar by the missing tooth.
"Does that mean I don't have to eat the rest of my apple now?" he asked.
"I suppose so." Mycroft acquiesced resignedly. Sherlock jumped up clutching his tooth like it was pure gold.
"Can I borrow your magnifying glass?" he asked cheerfully, "I want to see what my tooth looks like close up."
*I'm not sure if Victorians used the word 'wobbly' however I couldn't think of any other words to describe wobbly teeth and the thesaurus wasn't very forthcoming either.
This is based on how I lost my first tooth. I had to work to convince my mum that it wasn't a piece of apple that I'd spat out as she thought and that it was really my tooth.
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