The next morning, John came in to wake him up. He was tentative at first, remembering how angry Sherlock had been a few days ago, but he had to get louder and louder in his calling Sherlock's name when Sherlock stubbornly refused to wake up. Finally he crept over to Sherlock's bed and ever so carefully he poked him in the side.
Sherlock sat straight up, startling John, who leapt backwards so quickly he nearly fell over. John scrunched his face up, waiting for Sherlock to start yelling, but instead he heard... laughter? Tentatively, he opened his eyes. He hadn't heard Sherlock laugh since... it had been a long time.
"Um... it's time to wake up," he said.
"Obviously," Sherlock told him, sobering quickly. "What time is it?"
"It's 8:30. Breakfast is downstairs if you want it, but Mom- Mrs. Johnston says if you want it, you had better come and get it now, since she has to leave in forty-five minutes and everything will be cleaned up long before that," John answered. He was still somewhat antsy, but Sherlock seemed almost happy this morning... which could be good or bad. He would watch and see.
"Where's she going?" Sherlock demanded.
"I think she's picking Cassidy up. That's her real daughter," said John. "She's been at camp all summer."
"I know," Sherlock said, somewhat impatient. That seemed more like the Sherlock that John was used to,and he relaxed a tad. "You know, I've been awake since before you came in." John nodded. "What's for breakfast?"
"Egg sandwich thingies. They smell really good, except it's too bad for Mycroft since he's allergic. All he gets is oatmeal." John wrinkled his nose. Oatmeal was, as everyone knew, the most boring and tasteless food in existence, and made for a horrible breakfast.
"I'm coming down in a minute, then," Sherlock said. As soon as John left the room, grinning in a horribly perky way, he frowned. He couldn't do this. He couldn't be this - happy. Normal Sherlock would have to be enough.
He changed out of pajamas as slowly as possible, stalling until he'd have to go downstairs and see everyone. He could only take so long, though, and finally he was done. He headed downstairs.
Everyone else was already around the table when he arrived. Mycroft had a bowl of oatmeal in front of him. Sherlock could see that it was full of milk and sugar and some sort of fruit - it looked like blueberries, but Sherlock couldn't quite tell. No one else had food yet, though. Michael was at the stove, scrambling eggs in a giant frying pan, and Rob and Charlie were sitting next to each other around the table. Rob looked alert and wide awake, but Charlie looked like he could fall back asleep at any moment. His head was in his hands, elbows resting on the table to prop himself up, and his eyes were open - but only barely.
Mrs Johnston was sitting at the head of the table, talking animatedly to John about something. She didn't even notice that Sherlock had walked in until he sat down next to Mycroft.
"Good morning, glory!" she said. He made no answer, only nodding his head in reply. It wasn't that good of a morning. "Did you sleep well last night?" she asked him. He nodded again. Why was she so intent on making conversation? Fortunately, she turned back to John.
"Polite, aren't you?" observed Mycroft.
"Oh, shut up," muttered Sherlock.
"Have you and John made up yet?" asked Mycroft. Sherlock turned to look at him, a vicious glare on his features.
"None of your business, iMikey,"/i he said. Mycroft went back to his oatmeal. It was bland and horrible, just like Mycroft, he thought viciously. Why couldn't he just mind his own business?
A few minutes later, the eggs were all finished cooking. There was a sort of buffet set out on the counter, with cheese and little cubes of ham and tortillas, which presumably he was intended to wrap his eggs in. He waited a moment to see what everyone would do.
Suddenly there was a rush as all of the little kids, John included, jumped up and leapt for the best place in line along the counter. Michael was at the front, of course, since he made the food, but there was a good deal of shoving and fighting for the second place in line. Sherlock rolled his eyes. It was obvious that there was more than enough food for everyone and there were only a few people in the house - the wait wouldn't be that long. It was ridiculous, really.
Sherlock ended up in the back of the line, waiting until everyone but Mycroft was there to stand up. By the time he got there, most of the food was gone, although there was just enough for him. He put a little on his plate, just enough that no one would ask questions, then sat down to eat.
When she had finished eating, Mrs Johnston checked her watch and said "All right, I have to be going. Behave yourselves! Michael is in charge. I'll be back in an hour and a half with Cass. See you later, and /ibe good!"/i Rob stood up and gave her a hug, then Charlie and John, and finally Michael. Even Mycroft nodded his head in acknowledgement of her leaving.
Right before she walked out of the kitchen she turned, remembering something.
"Sherlock, do you want to come with me? We can have a little one on one time," she said. He considered it for a moment. It would be an hour and a half, which could turn out to be quite a long time, but it might be good... but then he remembered Cassidy would be with them on the way back, and he shook his head.
"I'll go with you!" shouted Charlie.
"Me too!" said Rob. Even John looked hopeful. She shook her head at all of them, however.
"I need you guys to stay her and get ready for Cassidy to get home. You can tell John and Sherlock and Mycroft all about her - they've never met her," she reminded them. They looked disappointed. "See you later, she called, and the goodbyes started all over again. Finally, she extricated herself from the littles and was off.
John and Charlie, who had finished their food, got up and were heading into the family room until Michael called them back and reminded them of cleanup. They cleared their plates and put them in the dishwasher, then put the frying pans and spatulas in the sink and ran water over those.
Now Rob had finished. He put his plate up and joined them, grabbing a dishrag and wiping down the counters. Mycroft joined in and scrubbed the pans while Sherlock watched.
"Don't think you'll get off this lightly tomorrow, Sherlock," said Michael with a grin. "The only reason you and me are clean-up free is because I made breakfast and this is the first time you've had breakfast with us." Sherlock nodded. He put his own plate up, then, and went upstairs.