"Can we do it, Mummy?" the ten-year-old begged, looking up at his mother with pleading eyes, "Please? Sherlock will love it."
Violet Holmes looked down at her eldest son, fondly smiling at him and crouching down to bring herself to his eye level and take his hand in hers.
"Father has said yes, Mycroft." she answered softly, using her other hand to stroke his auburn hair away from his face. A couple of stray strands stuck to his forehead from his bath. She re-secured his robe around him and stood again, leading him towards his bedroom.
"Now shush or your brother will hear you, and it won't be a surprise for him then, will it?"
Mycroft zipped his lips playfully and trundled back into his bedroom to get dressed. It was Sherlock's third birthday in a few weeks, and Mycroft had suggested a treehouse in one of the larger trees in the grounds around their family home.
He and his little brother could sit in it and play for hours without disturbing anybody like they did when they played in the house.
Mycroft smiled to himself. Sherlock would love it.
