Chapter 2 – nerves
Sherlock was on his way to the college, in the back seat of a shiny, black car. Mycroft was avoiding looking at him, but he didn't care too much, they hardly talked anyway.
The funeral had gone to plan, relatively.
Mycroft had had to restrain Sherlock from jumping on to the coffins, providing well-rehearsed reasons as to why he should perform another autopsy on his parents before they were buried.
They hadn't spoken a word to each other since then.
As they pulled into the drive, Mycroft quickly signalled to the driver to lock the doors, and he turned to face his younger brother.
With no other option, Sherlock looked back, glaring. "What, Mycroft?" he spat, trying to unlock the passenger door.
"I'll send a car during each long break, to bring you to Holmes Manor. Call me if you need anything"
Sherlock groaned at this, the last thing he wanted to do during his holidays was to be locked up in the house with Myc. "fine. But what would I need from you?" he asked, finally unlocking the door. "Enjoy your eighth degree at Cambridge, and don't eat too much cake, dear brother."
He leaped out of the car, and ignored the muffled noises that were being shouted back in response, and confidently walked towards the large building, avoiding looking back.
Mycroft sighed, and turned to address the driver. "Central London please"
He looked back and saw what he hoped he wouldn't. Sherlock's guard down, his fake confidence shrouded in nerves as he slowly walked into the entrance.