Flight and Fall [ON HOLD]

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Mycroft remembered the first time he had seen his brother. A babe, no more than six months old, yet skinny even then. His eyes had observed and the noise coming out of his mouth had been as constant, if not coherent. His hair was already growing thick and curly. Black like the night. And his wings. They were the same colour, scrawny things. Like everyone there. They were mutants. Created from experiments. Five of them. Growing up in the same three rooms. Living there. Only ever leaving to be experimented on or to take whatever tests the scientists wished them to do. They were family, even if not all related by blood.

Mycroft was the oldest. The sort of leader, you could say. He had been the first truly successful mutant. If you could call him a success. He didn’t really think so. He was smart, a natural leader and very good at deducing (not that he had many people to deduce) but that was about it. Then there was Greg, only a few months younger. He was more jovial than Mycroft yet serious at the same time. The two got on well.

Then there were the girls. Irene was two years younger, very pretty which was only added to by her wings. She had a sly way and wasn’t beyond attempting to manipulate the others. They were all used to it, though. Molly was almost her opposite. Shy and docile, she always did as she was told. Had problems telling people no. She was five years younger.

Then there was his brother. Seven years younger. Mycroft had watched him grow up, vowed to protect him as much as possible (though his brother made that rather hard to do). He developed faster than most babies would, even avian-human ones like them. He was very intelligent. That much he had shown. He could also deduce things. Like Mycroft. Also like Mycroft he had chosen a rather strange name to go by. Sherlock. The boy didn’t know where it came from, just that it sounded right. That was the same as Mycroft. The other three had gotten their names from the various books they had to read; whatever they had come across and taken a fancy to.

The place they lived in wasn’t that bad. Three rooms cut off from the rest of the world. No windows, nothing. Their only contact being with the scientists. Two of the rooms were bedrooms combined with bathrooms. Rather small, one for the girls and one for the boys. They contained the right number of beds, one sink, one bath and one toilet. Nothing more. The other room was sort of their living area. It contained a small table for eating at and some more comfortable seats. It also had books, games and toys. Writing materials were also supplied and sometimes, if they were lucky, they were given school textbooks.

Also every day they were taken to another place for exercise. It was the closest they would get to the outdoors. It was a large glass dome with a few trees in it, enough space to fly about in. That was all they cared about. Just the five of them flying there. Even if they were basically in captivity.

“Mycwoft look at me!” Sherlock grinned brightly as he flapped his wings, performing a rather sloppy turn in the air. Good for a three year old, though. He was so innocent at points. When he wanted to appear to be. He could be a right imp at other points. Bothered everyone. Was very stubborn and annoying.

“Mycroft. Repeat, Mycroft.”

“Myc... c... croft!” Sherlock struggled with the r, beaming widely when he managed to say it. He swiftly landed on the branch next to his brother, shuffling closer to him so he could rest his head against the older boy’s shoulder. It was a heart warming moment for Mycroft, though he did not show what he felt inside apart from putting his arm around the skinny kid. So thin, naturally so. Like a stick. It wasn’t helped by the amount they got to eat and their high metabolism. And he was tall. All of them were tall, being avian-humans and all, but Sherlock was probably the tallest. Alongside Mycroft, that was. Mycroft was pretty tall himself.

For just a moment Mycroft let peace lull over him. Sitting on a tree branch with Sherlock’s face buried into his shoulder. Protecting the little boy. Mycroft had both his arm and brown wing wrapped around his brother. It was nice. Lestrade was lying across the branch above them, looking down with a smirk. Mycroft ignored him, just finding his expression amusing. Irene was in the other tree, perched high up with a devious look across her striking features. Normal. Molly was still flying about, the five year old finding joy in that kind of thing.

But this did not last. Soon the scientists came, with the guards, to escort them back to their rooms. Their home. Their prison.