Leaving Holmes Manor
So this (and the following, I think) chapter has been created by my incredibly talented best friend – Victoria Raven. Woooo
She's my guest writer for this particular fic, and you must all start to love her as much as I do.
Enjoy and review :)
The morning was cold in the Holmes Manor; John didn't feel it as Sherlock slept soundly beside him radiating heat like a human water bottle. It was their last day; at precisely twelve they'd leave in Myc's car and be on their way to university. It would be nice to stay here forever; the Holmes house provided John with a serenity and content that he never got at home, but it wasn't to be.
Really it was a shame that Mycroft's powers didn't extend to get both he and Sherlock degrees. Apparently A-levels were as far as his influence could carry. Sighing with the realization that he would never get back to sleep; he snuck from under Sherlock's arm and swung his legs into his slippers at the base of the bed. He avoided the one creaky floorboard, despite knowing that Sherlock would feel his absence, it still paid to be silent so Mycroft couldn't precisely map his movements. The Holmes' really did have inhuman hearing.
Throwing on jeans and a vest he staggered downstairs following the least noisy path so Sherlock would sleep a little longer at least.
Mrs Hudson was awake already, that woman had the movements of a mouse, nobody, not ever Myc could detect when she woke up each morning, she was simply 'there' and ready.
"Good morning John, good night? Good. I'll make more tea, one or two sugars this morning?" Mrs Hudson reached into the cupboard simultaneously flicking on the kettle and grabbing a spoon.
Despite his attempts to keep him sleeping – Sherlock didn't sleep much, and when he did it was such a rarity it had to be preserved for as long as possible - it seemed, Sherlock had decided to quietly follow John when he had awoken.
"Sherlock! Coffee? You look awful." She chose a second cup and poured the filtered coffee up the top, Sherlock despised milk, saw no point in it, besides the heat woke him up just as well as the caffeine.
By half past eleven Mycroft still hadn't shown his face, even with Greg's passing he was always promptly up and ready in a three piece at nine every morning at the very least, even on days off.
Though he would never admit it, Sherlock was beginning to get worried, his shifty eyes kept narrowing at the slightest creek and frequent quizzical glances at the stairs showed that he was getting anxious over Mycroft's disappearance.
Finally at eleven fifty five, Mycroft bounded downstairs in a track suit.
"Trying to make me laugh Mycroft?" said Sherlock a small almost unnoticeable look of relief on his face.
"Yes dear brother, I thought I'd take your advice, stay away from chocolate and exercise." Mycroft managed a sad smile as he shook Johns hand and then turned to Sherlock.
"I'm glad, just...take...take it easy yes?" Sherlock patted his brother's shoulder and turned to get in the car.
"Wait!" Myc mumbled urgently. "Wait...um, thank you Sherlock. For everything. Just try not to cause too much havoc at university..." Sherlock turned and unexpectedly embraced Mycroft into a tight hug.
"We aren't doing this now are we?" Mycroft joked squeezing Sherlock.
"No I don't think so" Sherlock whispered and climbed in the car so quickly that the single tear that fell from his right eye was not seen by Myc or John.