Fifty Shades of Holmes Brothers

by somanyhands

A series of 50 short fics about the changing relationship and dynamics between the Holmes brothers, from Sherlock's birth through to adulthood. No slash but there will be some brother love and tenderness as well as an amount of hatred and bitterness too. Contains mention of drug use. Not one fic per year, just 50 short glimpses, in chronological order. NOW COMPLETE

7. Candles

"What's that, My?" Sherlock asks, pointing to the small glass tub containing a strange-coloured substance. "It looks yellow and red and orange all at the same time. Why?"

Mycroft looks down at his little brother and turns to lift the tub off his desk. He guides Sherlock to the bed and sits alongside him.

"Well, Sherlock," he begins, carefully levering off the lid and placing it on the bedside table, "this is wax. It comes from the bees that we have in the garden."

"I thought honey came from bees." the four-year-old said, his face crinkled a little in confusion.

Mycroft gave a soft chuckle. "Oh it does." he replied, taking one of Sherlock's hands and placing the glass tub into it. "We get both honey and wax from the bees. The honey we have on toast and in sandwiches, and Mrs Beeston likes to use it when she cooks and bakes."

"I like honey." Sherlock declares, lifting the tub to his nose and inhaling deeply. "This doesn't smell like honey." he crinkles his nose again.

"We don't eat wax, Sherlock." Mycroft says, taking back the pot and lidding it again. "We can collect the wax from the hive and use that for other things instead. Do you know what we can make from wax, Sherlock?"

Sherlock shook his head, and Mycroft stood and walked over to the dresser. He picked up something that Sherlock couldn't see and approached the little boy again, his hands behind his back.

"What is it, My?" Sherlock asked, bobbing his head from side to side, trying to peek at whatever it was his brother was holding behind him. Mycroft laughed and smiled at the little boy.

"Here." he said, pressing a small unevenly-coloured candle into Sherlock's hand. "I made this candle from the wax I collected before. It took a long time to get enough wax to make it. It's for you."

Sherlock's face lit up like the sun, his eyes wide and his grin wider.

"For me?" he squealed, exploring the object with his fingers. Mycroft nodded.

Sherlock jumped up from the bed and wrapped his arms around his big brother's legs.

"Thank you, Mycroft." he said, squeezing the legs so hard he almost knocked Mycroft off-balance. "I love it."