Sherlock sits in the middle of the lounge, toys surrounding him on all sides. He looks from one to the other as if trying to decide which to play with. After several long minutes of toddler contemplation, he crawls over to Mycroft who is sitting on the sofa.
"What's the matter, Sherlock?" Mycroft asks his little brother. "Can't decide what to play with?"
The toddler pulls himself up onto shaky legs and leans closer to his big brother. He peers over at the book Mycroft is reading, and Mycroft turns it to face him.
"See here, Sherlock," the elder boy says, pointing to a picture of a beehive, "these are bees and this is their house. It's called a beehive."
The younger boy babbles something that may or may not have been the word "bee", and Mycroft smiles.
"When you're a little bit older, I'll take you to see the real bees in the garden. Would you like that, Sherlock?"
The little boy giggles and drops back away from Mycroft's knees.
Returning to his toys, he starts stacking wooden blocks.
