Sherlock was in the middle of a conversation with Bear when Ms. Claire, the maid, called him for dinner. Excellent! A perfect time to talk to Mummy! Sherlock dropped Bear and raced halfway down the stairs, tumbling down the rest. His bottom hit the floor, and it hurt, but he didn't care. He raced to the dining room to see Mycroft already seated, and Ms. Claire scolding Mummy for not wearing proper clothing. Mrs. Holmes was a scientist and inventor. She was wearing old jeans and a stained t-shirt, and her hair was pulled back into a messy bun. Her goggles were still on her head, as she often forgot about them.
"Margaret, where's Andrew?" Ms. Claire asked Mummy, referring to Father.
"Oh, still at work," Mummy said breezily. Andrew Holmes was a top-notch successful lawyer who was often away from home. He was a tall, imposing man but with kind brown eyes. "Now let's eat!"
Margaret Holmes was an accomplished scientist-turned-inventor. She was of average height for a woman, and was slim with soft curves. She has curly copper hair and bright green eyes, and a big, kind smile.
"Now, Sherlock...what was it you wanted to tell me earlier? Mycroft, slow down. You are not a horse, do you want to be fat?" Mummy often strung her sentences together. Mycroft grunted.
Sherlock bounced in his chair. "Mummy, guess what? I made a friend today! I made a friend!"
Mrs. Holmes raised her eyebrows. She looked genuinely impressed. "Really, Sherlock? And how is that?"
"Welllllllll...a family moved in down the street and I met them and there's kid and his name is Gregory Lestrade and he's seven too and he likes weird people and old people and his parents are really nice and-"
Mrs. Holmes laughed. "Slow down there, Sherlock! Eat your dinner."
Sherlock grimaced and played with his peas. He didn't really like eating, it was a waste of time to him.
"Mycroft, slow down, I told you!" Mrs. Holmes scolded.
Mycroft dropped his fork on his plate, resulting in a loud "clank." "Mummy, what about the azaleas?" he whined.
"Oh, right. Sherlock, please do try and keep out of the azaleas."
Sherlock sighed. "Fine, Mummy. May I be excused?"
Mrs. Holmes looked at her younger son's full plate, and rolled her eyes. "Fine, Sherlock, if you must really leave us."
Sherlock hopped off his chair, gave his mother a kiss on the cheek. She smelled of lavendar, like always, despite spending so much time in her lab. Little Sherlock raced up to his bedroom. He grabbed Bear, and raced up the next flight of stairs, to the library. He padded to his favourite nook, curled up in his favourite chair, and pulled out "The House at Pooh Corner," by A. A. Milne. Sometimes Sherlock felt like Christopher Robin, with stuffed animals as friends. Of course, Sherlock only had Bear but Bear was his best friend and Winnie-the-Pooh was Christopher Robin's, so they were just like, right?
Sherlock didn't really enjoy reading fictional works, but Winnie-the-Pooh was an exception. He often took solace in the make-believe world of the Hundred Acre Wood. Everything was so simple and every problem had a solution. Sometimes that just felt better than reading about science. Sherlock wasn't a very good or quick reader yet, but he tried his hardest. He had read this book so many times, and Mummy had read from it so many times before that, and the book was very very old, so it was falling apart. He read to Bear for a little while, then read in silence, and eventually dozed off in the chair.
A little while later, Sherlock awoke to the sound of his father softly saying his name in his soothing deep voice. Sherlock opened his eyes groggily. "Father?"
Mr. Holmes set his briefcase on his desk. "Good evening, Sherlock. What is tonight's reading?"
"Chemistry, Father," Sherlock lied quickly.
Mr. Holmes raised his eyebrows. "Really, son? Has Mr. Milne made some posthumous additions?"
Sherlock blushed. "I made a friend today, Father. Hisname is Gregory Lestrade and he is seven, just like me!"
Mr. Holmes smiled. "That's what your mum told me. Been kind of a long day, hasn't it?" Sherlock's father looked weary himself.
Sherlock nodded, and- he couldn't help it- yawned.
Mr. Holmes laughed a little, and said, "Alright, son, off to bed it is. I might actually do the same thing myself here soon!"
Sherlock nodded again, and, Bear in hand, took off for the stairs, nearly taking another tumble. He quickly brushed his little teeth, changed into his favourite pyjamas, and scrambled into bed, Bear clutched close to his chest. He laid in bed awake for a while, watching the shadows cast by the moonlight. He could not sleep, for his little mind was all aflutter with the thoughts of finally having a real, human friend!
(A/N: Little Sherlock is probably my favourite character to write for, ever. The one I have imagined in my head is so freaking cute oh my goodness I may have to create some art for it. Thanks for reading!)