I'M BACK! Maybe that's just me who's excited about that…
But I am excited. After a ridiculously long time of being stressed and having no time for various reasons that I don't even want to think about right now, I finally have some free time! And hopefully (although I do have exams) I should have free time enough for some writing from now on!
Oh and I know this would have been far more relevant around Christmas but I was too busy hibernating - seriously I was only able to wake up to eat otherwise I was either asleep or literally to tired to move let alone type a coherent story - and wasn't feeling particularly Christmassy anyway. But now I am - a little late I know. The Christmas decorations have all been taken down, everyone's back to work/school and I start feeling Christmassy *rolls eyes* anyway I hope you enjoy this rather late holiday story.
The snow that had been drifting down in leisurely spirals all morning was finally gaining some momentum. Each flake spun towards the ground in a deadly dance before coming to rest on the ground. Although each little flake hurtled determinedly towards the ground, the scene from the nursery window was one of almost surreal calmness. The world was hushed, holding it's breath, silently watching as if in a gentle slumber as the flakes descended.
Sherlock's breath made a circle of mist appear on the pane of glass. He was sitting in the window seat watching the snow as it fell. The window was slightly open and a sharp chill crept into the nursery. Every now and then a little puff of wind would send a flurry of flakes twirling into the room.
Amid the serene determined dance of the snowflakes another object, small and black against the dominantly white scenery, plunged to the ground. It hit the snow, sinking through without a sound, creating a dent that joined a curious line of similar dents, some more shallow than others.
The nursery door opened letting a wave of warm air in and a blast of cold air out. Mycroft entered and seeing his younger brother sitting quietly instantly became suspicious.
"What are you doing Sherlock?" Mycroft asked trying not to make his tone too accusatory.
"Watching." muttered Sherlock so softly that Mycroft was unsure if that was what he had actually said.
"For what?" the elder Holmes asked in genuine bewilderment. He began to wonder if Sherlock was sick - the only other time Mycroft could remember his brother being this still and sombre was when he was five and had had a very bad bout of flu and even then the still and sombreness hadn't lasted for very long, soon Sherlock had been complaining that he was bored.
"Just watching." Sherlock replied quietly shrugging his shoulders. Mycroft sat down next to his brother pushing aside the pile of toy soldiers that had been the cause of so much drama a mere two days ago. Mycroft shivered as he stared out at the quiet, quaint landscape searching for something captivating enough to hold Sherlock's limited attention. Finding none but becoming colder and colder by the minute Mycroft reached up to close the window.
"No!" protesting in a slightly more vehement voice but still a long way away from his usual demanding tones.
"What?" asked Mycroft slightly more sharply than he'd intended.
"Leave the window open."
"Why? Do you desire to catch pneumonia?" Mycroft demanded with more than a touch of impatience in is voice. Sherlock didn't answer just continued to stare at the falling snow, watching it with such focused intent that Mycroft began to wonder what he was missing. He looked out over the house grounds that morphed seamlessly into miles and miles of fields for as he could see. All was white, the snow was still falling and although the scene was picturesque Mycroft doubted that it was the beauty of the scene that captivated Sherlock. The only thing that could possibly have gained Sherlock's interest was a row of small dents in the snow that were roughly the same size but of varying degrees shallowness.
But if the mysterious dents were what Sherlock was staring at then why wasn't Sherlock outside investigating them? Unless…Mycroft glanced at the pile of soldiers a slight suspicion forming in his mind. Sherlock suddenly glanced at the clock and then knelt, pushing the window open further. He then grabbed on of the toy soldiers and threw it out of the window confirming Mycroft's suspicions. He and Sherlock watched as the soldier plummeted downwards and shot through the snow leaving a hole and solving the mystery of the line of dents. Mycroft took a moment to admire the accuracy of Sherlock's aim before sighing and adopting an all too familiar expression of weariness.
"Sherlock you cannot throw your toy soldiers out of the window." Sherlock turned from the window to frown crossly at his elder brother - the very picture of defensiveness and argumentativeness.
"Why not?" he demanded.
"Because you were furious at Nemeth for throwing them out the window only two days ago. It is hypocritical to now throw them out yourself."
"What does hypo-crit-i-cal mean?" asked Sherlock, sounding out the unfamiliar word carefully.
"When you do something that you have recently complained about or told someone off for doing." Mycroft replied, trying to simplify it as much as possible for Sherlock's sake. He made a mental note to use as few long words in conversation with Sherlock as possible - it would speed up conversations considerably if Sherlock didn't keep stopping him to ask what a word meant. He watched as Sherlock struggled to wrap his head around the explanation.
"Sort of like sarcasm?" Sherlock had recently learnt about the concept of sarcasm and had wasted no time in learning to master it.
"A little, I suppose." Mycroft answered feeling that whether intentionally or not Sherlock was leading them away from the original topic of conversation - the latest way Sherlock had found of abusing his toy soldiers.
"But that is not the point Sherlock. You can't throw you're soldiers out the window. What would Nemeth think if she saw you throwing the soldiers out for the window after you'd told her not to?" Mycroft said the world 'told' somewhat hesitantly - he wasn't sure if fighting with Nemeth quite qualified as telling someone but he in the end he decided to ignore it for arguments sake.
In reply to Mycroft's question Sherlock mumbled something that sounded a little like 'I don't care' Mycroft though briefly about reprimanding Sherlock for that comment but decided that it really wasn't worth it. The nursery was cold and he wanted to go back to his room and indented to as soon as he had forced Sherlock to promise not to throw anymore toys out of the window.
"Just promise not to throw anymore toy out of the window" Mycroft said wearily and added quickly as Sherlock opened his mouth to protest "And I don't care about your feelings on the matter. You have to do as I say as I am older" it was seldom Mycroft played the 'older than you' card but he had always found it effective in the past for when Sherlock was being particularly argumentative. Sherlock scowled at his older brother and sighed.
"Okay," he began, "I won't-" he stopped and looked out the window with a mischievous smile that worried Mycroft. He looked out the window and saw a figure - Sherrinford it looked like- crossing the grounds and growing nearer and nearer to the line of dents.
"Don't even think about it Sherlock." Mycroft snapped, guessing his brothers intent. Sherlock gave the elder Holmes an angelic smile and grabbed a toy soldier and threw it out the window. Both boys watched as the soldier descended rapidly through the air, Sherlock with delight and Mycroft with a mixture of disproval and amusement. The soldier hit Sherrinford's head just as he came into line with the dents. Sherlock laughed gleefully and Mycroft smiled in spite of himself.
Wow this supposed one-shot short story is tuning into a bit of a monster plot bunny. I would take it out of this story and give it one of it's own with it's own title and summary and everything but it's a little late for Christmas fics. But then I also don't feel it belongs in this series anymore. It's growing too big, bless it.
As ever thanks to everyone who has reviewed (and now that I am properly back on fan fiction I will begin replying to those reviews - sorry I haven't done it before (see stress/no time comment at beginning of story) tanks also to people who have favourited or alerted this.
Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. The next chapter will still be this storyline. Unless I take it out. I haven't decided yet.