#kid!sherlock

[ceci-silly-drawings]

Inktober

Day 21. Trees

It's quite late haha but here it is :'D. A kidlock with Jim and Sherlock. Although I don't know how to draw children haha xD I can't draw trees either D':

No. 228 ?

[buckingham-ashtray]

do you regularly think about a six-year-old sherlock squinting at the cook and announces he's having an affair while trying not to care about the “ff” in “affair”that's not coming out because he lost his front teeth or are you normal

[sherlyberry]

i just fall in love with kitty ears 

[high-functioning-lokipath]

SH - Sherlock & Mycroft Friendship/Brotherly Bonding - Prompt: Holmes brothers as kids, Myc being a good brother, playing the deduction game. - Words: 1,715

WARNING: MYCROFT IS A BIT NOT GOOD AT THE BEGINNING. THIS IS NOT MYCROFT HATE THO! ALSO, DEVIL CHILDREN WHO DON'T LIKE SHERLOCK MAKE AN APPEARANCE. IT DOES END WELL THOUGH.

That being said, I guess I should add a Trigger Warning for bullying.

I do hope you enjoy the story! Let us know!

"You simply are not trying hard enough, Sherlock! It's quite obvious!" Mycroft yelled. The Holmes brothers were standing in the living room in 221B. Mycroft had decided to pay his brother an in-person visit rather than just turning on the security camera he'd installed. Sherlock had decided to ask Mycroft to play the deduction game with him over a cup of tea. Sherlock was rarely so cordial with Mycroft thus Mycroft was, not that he'd admit it, concerned that something was wrong. He realized he'd miscalculated greatly (again, he'd never admit that) when, only an hour later, a shouting match had ensued.

"Really? Obvious? You're bloody insane, Mycroft! That solution is simply not possible!" Sherlock yelled, dressing gown swishing dramatically as he waved about.

"Look at the facts little brother. We've eliminated the rest. And what do we say about what remains?" Mycroft attempted to bring his voice back down to it's normal, placating, patronizing tones.

"Must be the truth," Sherlock replied, hanging his head low as he finally came to rest on the couch. Mycroft briefly, and rather guiltily, pictured Sherlock as a whipped puppy tucking its tail between its legs. He hadn't intended to hurt his brother so, but the damage was done.

'Nothing worse than past fights,' Mycroft thought. 'He'll recover in a few hours.' He decided not to reconcile at the moment as that could quite easily be taken as caring. 'Sherlock knows I care about him, I just don't want to appear too soft,' Mycroft justified mentally.

"Very good, Sherlock," He said aloud. "I understand you couldn't see it my way today. Perhaps one day you'll be able to think clearly about things." Mycroft turned to walk away. "Perhaps once your brain recovers from your last overdose. Maybe then it will return to acceptable functionality."

'Why did I tack that last jab on?' Mycroft wondered. 'Perhaps I really am becoming too calloused.' He shrugged off the thoughts for the moment as he got in his usual black limousine for the ride home.

Back in 221B, Sherlock sat crying on the sofa for some time. Soft whimpers of "Myc" fell from his lips occasionally. Eventually, he fell asleep, although not a restful one.

"William! Come outside! It's a perfect day to explore!" Sherlock's mind palace had conjured up the memory he was trying so hard to forget. He saw everything so clearly though. Mycroft, still as proper as ever, yet this Mycroft was more free, more innocent. About 14 years old and just under 5' 7", Mycroft had already adopted most of the personality that would stick with him for the rest of his life. Sherlock was seeing his memory as though it was a movie he could walk through. He didn't see it from his 7 year old point of view. Rather, he watched on the sidelines. He looked around and found himself in the backyard of their childhood home. Mycroft was examining a particularly bright patch of flowers by the corner of the house. Some of them had been crushed, others torn up.

'The old tabby cat,' Sherlock remembered fondly. 'Mrs. O'Malley did always let that cat wander too much.'

"I'm coming, Mycie!" Sherlock heard behind him. Turning about he saw himself, right at 4' tall, running out of the house to join his brother.

"Tell me, William," Mycroft said. "How do you think these flowers were destroyed?"

"The old tabby cat, Mycie! That's easy! Find me something harder!" His 7 year old self exclaimed. Mycroft smiled approvingly and patted little Sherlock's shoulder.

'I can't seem to recall why he ever stopped calling me William,' Sherlock thought. Shaking his head in his dream, he chuckled silently. He knew he would remember, but his mind was attempting to fool him.

"Timothy Lexington," Mycroft called out, tossing a frisbee to young Sherlock. He caught it absently, brows drawn together in thought.

"Blond and blue, 19, 5' 9", science class, held back a year," Sherlock replied, throwing the disk back with a smug grin.

'The original deduction game!' Sherlock thought with an overwhelming feeling of nostalgia. Sitting on the grass, he settled in to watch.

Mycroft had gotten into the habit of having Sherlock deduce his classmates to the nth degree.

"Why was he held back?" Mycroft quizzed, returning the frisbee.

"Cheating," Sherlock replied, about to throw it back. "Wait," he paused. "Cheating and skipping class." With every throw, Mycroft would ask a question or name a person, and with every catch, Sherlock would answer.

"Samantha Hanshaw."

"Red and green, 17, 5' 5", fairly intelligent. Moved ahead 2 levels over the summer." Mycroft was just about to catch the returning disc when Sherlock added, "And she has a crush on you. She likes your intellect." Mycroft completely froze. The frisbee hit him squarely on the forehead, snapping him out of his trance. "Mycroft! Are you ok?" Sherlock yelled, all deductions forgotten.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Mycroft assured him. "Let's go up front." The two Holmes children ran around to the front yard and Sherlock hurried to catch up. As he was about the round the corner, he noticed a group of boys, about his younger self's age, bicycling down the road.

'Oh,' Sherlock remembered. 'This was it.'

"William! Want to come and play with us?" One boy yelled, coming to a stop in front of the house.

"Can I, Myc? Please?" The younger Holmes asked. Sherlock could see the love and care in Mycroft's eyes. But also the sadness.

"They're no good for you, Will," He whispered, kneeling down to his brother's level. The younger's face dropped, tears welling up in his eyes. Mycroft hesitated briefly, hoping with all his heart he was making the right decision and that his initial readings of those boys were false, and added, "But if you want so badly, I suppose an hour or so wouldn't hurt." Sherlock lit up and hugged his brother around the neck.

"Thanks, Mycie! I'll be good! I'll be back in 1 hour!" Sherlock then ran across their large front yard to the road to meet up with the other boys. Mycroft began to walk into the house when he heard yelling.

"Where's your bodyguard now, William? Think you can just use your brain to get out of this, William?" Mycroft's heart sank. Those scumbags were holding Sherlock down on the pavement, kicking him. "Freak! Weirdo!"

"Leave him alone!" Mycroft bellowed. Sherlock had been struggling, trying to get away from them, but there had simply been too many. The bullies quickly scattered, grabbing their bikes and running off. Mycroft pulled Sherlock onto the grass immediately.

"I'm sorry," Sherlock whimpered.

"No, no, William. You don't have to be-"

"Don't call me that!" He yelled. "Never again! If I'm to be a freak, I'll be named as such. Never call me by that name again. Call me Sherlock from now on." Sherlock's face had turned adamant, a preview of his future personality.

"But-"

"Please?" Sherlock begged, face softening once again. Mycroft silently nodded and pulled Sherlock in for a hug.

"Come on inside. Let's get you washed up and have some cake together, hm? Sounds good, Sherlock?" Mycroft asked, the name feeling strange on his tongue. He certainly did not think the name sounded freakish, nor was his brother a freak, but he would, at least for now, make his brother happy.

"Yes, please."

"And Sherlock?" Mycroft continued, pausing his steps. "I'll always love you and I'll always take care of you. I will never hurt you. Never forget that."

Sherlock woke up with a start, gasping and still sobbing a little. His face was sticky with half-dry tears.

"I will never hurt you." Those words echoed in Sherlock's mind. It seemed that these days all Mycroft had done was hurt Sherlock.

'Not that it was really his fault,' Sherlock thought. 'I'm really the cause of it all. Maybe if I could find a triple homicide I could finally make him proud.' Sherlock shook his head. He'd already solved those types of cases. He really didn't know what to do to make his brother happy. Turning over on the sofa, he looked to the abandoned mugs on the coffee table. No doubt, the contents were far past cold so Sherlock got up and took them to the sink. Hearing the door lock click, he readied himself for an intruder since no one else he knew should be coming in at this time of day.

"Sherlock?" He heard a voice call out.

'Mycroft?' Sherlock wondered. 'Why is he here?' Slowly, Sherlock walked out of the kitchen.

"What do you want?" He spat, unintentionally angry.

"I wanted to apologise. I'm sorry," Mycroft said, absolute sincerity showing on his face. Sherlock was surprised beyond words. Mycroft quickly took in his brother's appearance and realized he was responsible for it. Mycroft sighed lightly before continuing, "Lately all we've done is fight. That's not right for brothers. Even arch-nemesis brothers," He said with a smirk. Even Sherlock chuckled at that. Turning serious once again, Mycroft continued, "Please believe me when I say I'm sorry. I-" He paused for a moment, deciding he may not have another chance like this for a while. "I'll always love you, little brother, and I'll always take care of you. I will never intentionally hurt you. Never forget that. I may be harsh sometimes and say things I don't mean when I'm especially frustrated but I'll try to say 'I'm sorry' a bit more."

"I love you too, Mycie," Sherlock replied, hugging his brother tightly. Mycroft smiled fondly at the man who, at the moment, was burying his face in Mycroft's suit jacket. Mycroft hugged Sherlock back.

"I'll always care, William," His brother's name finally felt right again after all these years. "You're never a disadvantage."

"Neither are you, Myc," Sherlock replied with a smile. "But you know you're not allowed to call me that around anyone else. Not even Mummy and Daddy." Mycroft nodded. "Good. Now why don't we stop this emotional madness and finish what we started," Sherlock commanded. To the average person, it would seem Sherlock had gone back to normal. But Mycroft saw the glint in his eyes. "Chocolate cake with whipped icing?" Sherlock offered.

"Of course," Mycroft smiled, taking the plate and sitting again in the living room. "Cluedo?"

Sherlock BBC Taglist

@lucywrites02

@delightfulheartdream

@bartv21

@another-crazy-fangirl

@ladylulu143

[shows-up-naked-covered-in-bees]

BBC Sherlock || Childhood Johnlock.

“I’ve given you a glimpse, Sherlock, just a teensy glimpse of what I’ve got going on out there in the big bad world.” -J.M.

[imaginemycroftholmes]

Think you can write a short story about one where Mycroft comes home earlier than Sherlock thought and catches his teenaged little brother looking through one of his magazine mycroft hides under his bed (he's not masturbating just curious), and Mycroft may be out as gay but Sherlock is not and kinda a cute fluffy story about Sherlock pretty much telling his older brother he may be gay but he's not sure

Mycroft felt all the blood drain from his face when he found Sherlock curiously flipping through the magazine that he kept hidden deep within the dark recesses of his mattress corner  sheltered by the cold wall.

Do as him might not to panic it takes all of Mycroft’s reserves not to simply rush Sherlock to snatch away the booklet and then far away from the house he tries to remain causal or at the very least still in control.

Clearly his throat subtly Mycroft puts on a farce of control and asks, “Now what have you got there?”

Sherlock nearly jumps at this but looks no more perturbed by the magazine than he is by Mycroft’s sudden appearance. “I found this in your bed,” Sherlock confesses even though Mycroft knows this to be a lie.

Since the 'death’ of Eurus Sherlock has manifested this nasty habit of poking into places where he shouldn’t be and  pulling out things much like this.

Last week it had been pulling apart Mummy’s electric vibrator, and the week before that Father’s stash of erotica hidden on the top shelves of the library barred behind more boring titles. It gave him some sense of comfort knowing he wasn’t the only one suffering but this…this could make or break his relationship between them.

Bracing himself for what was probably going to be a harrowing discussion Mycroft sits on his bedspread and invites Sherlock beside him.

Sherlock duly complies but brings the stolen magazine along with him.

“Now I know that you may have questions concerning that magazine,” Mycroft begins noting how Sherlock already looks ready to bombard him with questions at any given moment, “ but you have to know that it changes absolutely nothing about me or my character. I am, and will forever be your brother and nothing-not even this will ever change that.”

“So does that mean you’re a homosexual?” Sherlock asks incredulously.

Oh Sherlock and his medical textbooks.

Mycroft sighs. “I honestly have no idea myself Sherlock,” he confesses, “I just know that there are times that I enjoy looking at the male form and other times females. It’s a bit unorthodox but it feels…natural to me but it does not make me unnatural.”

Sherlock looks a bit confused but Mycroft strives to make this more understandable and picks something that Sherlock knows.

“You know how playing pirates makes you feel at peace? Like you’re living the life you should?” Mycroft questions.

The answer is almost immediate as Sherlock’s brightening demeanor. “Yeah! Playing pirates is the best! I was born to be a pirate!” Sherlock exclaims brandishing the magazine as makeshift swords and causing Mycroft to panic.

Retrieving the crumbled magazine (and checking to make sure the quality of the pictures weren’t compromised by Sherlock’s vicious swinging) Mycroft continued to explain, “Well, that’s how I feel about men and women. I feel like I was born to love them both. It feels natural to me just as natural as it is for Mummy and Father to love each other. Do you understand?”

Sherlock seems to pause to think about it before asking, “Does this mean that I can like boys and girls too?”

“Sherlock, you can love whomever you like and I will support you no matter what,” Mycroft promises solemnly.

“Good, because romance is gross and I just want to be a pirate,” Sherlock states flippantly and pops off the bed and heads toward the door before pausing. “Well? Now that you’re here you can play pirates with me because I need a first mate. Come on!”

Mycroft counts his blessings and puts the magazine back in its hiding spot. “Coming brother dear,” he calls after.

“That’s Captain Holmes to you lackey!”

Yup, Mycroft really counts his blessings some days.

[xsherlockxholmesx]

“Have you heard yourself when you talk?”

“Very annoying.”

[ceci-silly-drawings]

Once I read a fic where sherlock plays chess with a kid in the park. That kid was jim.

Also I wanted to draw them playing chess hehe so I made this.

Maybe I'll make a drawing of the playing chess as adults