Mr. and Mrs. Holmes were surprisingly nostalgic if one knew their sons. The Holmes Manor was only named thusly because of the large manor that they used to own. After the youngest boy had gone off to college they moved to smaller house that they could fit everyone in when they came over on holidays, with very little room left over. The youngest boy still jokingly called it the Holmes Manor and after a bit everyone just went along with it.

Sherlock, John, Q and James all arrived at the house very shortly after Greg and Mycroft. Soon after a fair bit of hugs and the moving of luggage everyone was settled and was seated at the large dining room table. "Mother you do realize that you probably shouldn't be keeping my old report cards right?" Q said mentioning the box of reports from Q's days at school when he went by a different name, which were in a box and proudly labeled and displayed in the entryway.

"Sherrinford why would we ever do that?" Mr. Holmes asked with an amazed look upon his face.

"Sherrinford, that's your name?" James asked slightly dumbfounded.

"He hadn't told you?" Mycroft pondered as he helped himself to a second serving of the soup that Mrs. Holmes had made.

"No I hadn't, and you shouldn't be calling me that dad," Q said angrily.

"Sherrinford Michael Holmes, it is your name and your mother and I will call you that for as long as you are in this house."

"Well," Q said throwing his hands up. "There goes half of the free world." After that the table lapsed into silence as everyone ate and were, frankly, to afraid to talk.

"John how is your daughter? Mary isn't it?" Mrs. Holmes asked.

"Mary is a good kid," John said. "She's staying with Molly and her niece."

"Who's Molly?" Mrs. Holmes asked.

"One of the people who works at Saint Bart's," John answered he felt like he was under an interrogation.

"Is she a friend?"

"Yes, she is very good with children."

Mrs. Holmes thankfully didn't ask for any more information. Mary Watson-Holmes was the daughter of Mary Morstan and John Watson, Mary Morstan hadn't lived through child birth. John had been devastated but he vowed to be as good as a father as he possibly could be to his new daughter. That had been six years ago. Sherlock and John had moved into the same room five years ago, to the great joy of Mrs. Hudson, Mary got the upstairs bedroom. A couple years after that Molly had realized that if she took care of Mary for a day twice a month they tended to be nicer to everyone. Over the years Molly started to take Mary over to play with her niece. They bonded quickly and soon they were inseparable so it was only natural that she would love the idea of spending a week of her summer holiday with her instead of with her parents and her strange relatives that were always yelling.

The meal continued in silence until Mrs. Holmes brought out the dessert and the Holmes boys started to fling insults. "How's your diet Mycroft?" Sherlock asked as he took a bite of the cake.

"It's going fine Sherlock," Mycroft sneered.

"Really?" Sherlock asked in doubt.

"Oh, Sherlock, lay off him," Q said stepping in. "It's not like he can help himself."

"John and Greg couldn't help but laugh at the bickering between the three. James didn't quite know what to do.

Mycroft sighed, "Brothers dear. Must we really take a stab at my weight?"

Sherlock started with some innuendo but Q cut him off, "No, no we could take a stab at your ability to control MI6 or we could continue with your weight, your choice."

"If you breathe one word about that, so help me. I will make sure MI6 barley gets enough funding for the next fifty years."

"Brother of mine," Q shook his head with a smirk. "That would only hurt James here; he would actually have to return equipment."

"Hey!" interjected James, "I return equipment."

"Yes, but never in one piece," Q replied with a loving smile.

"Seems to me that you all may need that budget cut if that's the case," Greg laughed.

"Nah, the cats wouldn't be able to stand having cheep food," James laughed.

"Cats? John questioned.

"Yes cats, the 00 agents ganged up against everyone and adopted like five cats for MI6. The cats are more pampered then they are," Q glared at the man sitting next to him.

"Sherrinford that sounds like the opposite of a problem" his father laughed.

"It becomes a problem when the Q department has to watch them," Q said shaking his head and thinking back to them somehow almost killing three of the five cats. It involved electrical equipment and exploding pens.

"Well, Sherlock poisons my dog regularly so it can't be too bad," John joked.

"You would be surprised shat a bunch of nerds can do to a few cats," James replied.

A/N: Holy shit that finally got written. That took forever I'm sorry. There are a ridiculous amount of you guys… Hi, how you doing? If any of you have an idea where this should go please share. This was very hard to write… I have about three versions on my computer of this one chapter.