Mycroft had distinctly said Barbecue. That was what John remembered clearly. Except it seemed that Barbecue was some sort of code. To John, barbecue meant shorts, Hawaiian shirts (of which he had five that almost rivalled his jumper collection in their hideousness), beer, cremated burgers and slightly dodgy evening games of "I have never." To the family Holmes, barbecue obviously meant "Royal Garden Party."
Sherlock had tutted and sulked, but eventually emerged from his room resplendent in a pale blue linen suit and black shirt. Explaining that it was what everyone would be wearing. John fingered his cut off jeans self consciously and went to find a pair of trousers. Even Mrs Hudson seemed to understand the dress code for a Mycroft Barbecue. She was wearing a rather fetching liberty print sundress with an elegant silk shawl.
"Mr Holmes is in the garden with Master Nicholas." Since when had Mycroft had a butler? John raised questioning eyebrow at Sherlock, who shrugged. And really since when had Mycroft dressed like that? John tried not to stare. But Mycroft did look rather good.
Sherlock glared at his brother who was wearing a pair of cream linen trousers and a close fitting blue linen shirt. Ironically the shirt was the same colour as Sherlock's suit. But John sensed it wasn't the shirt that was the problem, rather the Pirate Ship shaped bouncy castle and the small boy Mycroft was assisting in his bouncing.
"Doctor Watson!" The small boy shrieked and leapt on to the grass. The last time John had seen Nicky, he'd stuffed the poor little lad into a bucket of freezing water. Obviously there were no hard feelings as Nicky Launched himself at John. "I've got a pirate ship! See?" He gestured towards the inflatable as though they might not have noticed it. "And there's cake and jelly and ice-cream!"
"I thought there might be!" Sherlock said sarcastically. Here we go again thought John. "My brother's favourite things!"
"Actually his favourite thing is Liquorice Allsorts." Nicky used the tone of voice children tended to reserve for when grown-ups were being unbelievably stupid. John tried not to laugh. "And you like Blackberry Pie. Or at least you used to." And he scurried back over to the Pirate Ship. Sherlock looked at John.
"Mycroft must have told him. Mycroft must have told him about me. Why would he do that?"
"Because you're his brother and he loves you?"
"Don't be ridiculous. He doesn't love anything. He's The Iceman of Whitehall." As if to prove him wrong the "Iceman" was currently laying full length on the pirate ship whilst a small pirate attempted to make him bounce the plank. Both seemed to find it very amusing.
Sherlock looked wistfully at the bouncy castle.
"Go on. I know you want to. Just try not to break your neck."
"I have no idea what you are talking about." But Sherlock was already slipping off his shoes.
He took a running jump at the inflatable, landing gracefully in the middle and launching Mycroft off the edge and onto the grass. John tensed for a moment, sensing trouble. Nicky clapped, it was obviously what he had been trying, and failing to achieve. Mycroft stood up, his pale trousers ruined with grass stains. He looked at his brother for one brief moment before throwing his head back and laughing. Sherlock looked up from where he was slowly being swallowed by bouncy pirate ship and smiled back.
For the briefest of moments and only so John noticed, the ghosts of the two boys Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes had been once upon a time were there for all to see. Laughing in the sunshine, the way they did before they both got complicated by life.