I Never Do

Manners

When Sherlock woke from his nap, he saw that Mycroft had joined him. He smiled, sat up, then gently pat his brother on his chest before moving to sit on him.

"My My My," he chanted.

Mycroft woke and grinned up at Sherlock.

"You little monkey," he reached out a hand and tickled Sherlock's side. Sherlock squealed and tried to get away, but Mycroft was persistent.

That was how their parents found them - laughing and squirming away from each other.

"Come along, boys," their father spoke. "It's supper time."

Mycroft stood and picked up Sherlock, placing him on his hip.

"I know you're too big for this, but I miss doing it." Mycroft mused to himself.

"Big," Sherlock repeated.

"Yes, big. You're getting to be a big boy. Almost too big."

Mycroft carried him down the stairs and into the dining room. He placed Sherlock in his chair before going to his. Their father pulled out their mother's chair before going to his own, then the feast began.

"Sherlock, what's wrong?" Mycroft asked.

Sherlock wasn't eating, nor was he even touching his food. He was staring at it, his expression one of distress.

Their mother turned to look at Sherlock's plate and immediately stood to fix the problem.

"I'm so sorry, baby. I forgot you don't like your food touching. Mummy will fix that. There you go!" She had put mashed potatoes and peas and chicken and carrots on his plate, but they were all over one another and Sherlock's mind clicked into overdrive any time that happened.

Their meal went by with ease after that. Mycroft talked about school, their father talked about the fish he caught, their mother talked about work and how this one woman came in and was just horrible to her, and Sherlock talked about his favorite type of bee.

Sherlock loves bees. Ever since his father took him to visit their Uncle Rudy, he'd show him the beehive that was placed in his enormous backyard. Sherlock would squeal in delight as he watched them collect, build, and fly. He'd wanted to get close to them, but his uncle said that he's not old enough, only to keep him from being stung and having to go to ER as he's very much allergic to them, ironically.

Sherlock had, of course, pouted at that, but he quickly got over it with the promise of him being able to name each and every bee. So far his absolute favorite bee is John, because when his uncle brought him to Sherlock in a jar to see up close for a little bit, Sherlock swears he waved at him.

Sherlock was a little put out that they had to leave, but his father promised that they could come back on the weekends when he's not working and when Sherlock isn't busy with homeschool. Sherlock was happy with that arrangement. So happy, in fact, that he ran to his room the moment they stepped inside the house and shut his door. He pulled out every bit of art supplies he owned and began to draw and color in his bees, adding their names to the top of their page. When he was finished, he gathered them up and took them into his father's study so he could add them to his nothingness-no-more wall.

Mycroft came into the study with snacks for the both of them and had to coerce Sherlock into taking a break from drawing. Sherlock was close to throwing a small strop at being interrupted, but then he saw the sweets on the tray and immediately ran over to Mycroft, holding his hands out. Mycroft rolled his eyes fondly before placing a treat into his brother's palms.

"Those look beautiful, Sherlock. Did you do them all by yourself?"

Sherlock puffed out his tiny chest with pride and nodded.

"Self," he repeated.

Mycroft smiled. "You did absolutely amazing, little bee."

"Bee."

"Yes, bee. Hurry up and eat your snack before mummy and daddy see."

Sherlock didn't need to be told twice. He ate his sweets, drank his juice, let Mycroft clean his hands, then went back to hanging up his work.

Their father stepped into the room and noticed Sherlock's wall. He moved to stand beside Sherlock, placing a hand upon on his head.

"These look great, Sherlock. Shall I call upon mummy to see them?"

"Mummy."

"I'll take that as a yes," his father chuckled.

He stepped out of the room to gather his wife and when they returned, the two of them praised Sherlock for his art work.

After Sherlock had all of his drawings hung up, their mother announced that it was getting close to supper time.

"Sherlock, love, what do you want to eat for dinner?"

Sherlock turned to look at his mummy's stomach.

"Chicken!"

"Chicken it is. Come along, dears," she escorted them out of the study and took them to the bathroom. "Wash your hands then go sit at the table and wait patiently while I cook."

Mycroft nodded and set about washing his hands, then helped Sherlock do the same. When they were finished, Mycroft took Sherlock by one of his hands and led the way to the dining room. He placed Sherlock in his usual spot before going to his.

Thirty minutes later their mother began to bring bowls of food to the table.

"Sherlock, what would you like on your plate? Point to it and I'll get it."

He pointed to the green beans, corn, peas, and lastly, a nice big chicken leg. His mother packed his plate, making sure that absolutely nothing touched, then went about making plates for everyone else.

"Thank Mummy," Sherlock said.

Mycroft grinned. "It's 'thank you, Mummy', but you did very well. Excellent, Sherlock."

Their mother turned to look at Mycroft.

"Have you been teaching him that?"

Mycroft nodded. "I've been teaching him proper ways to thank someone, tell them 'no thank you' when he doesn't want something, and to always be polite."

"Well, I am very proud of you; of both of you. You are absolutely welcome, baby."

Sherlock beamed and continued to eat while Mycroft blushed.

After dinner Mycroft announced that he would be going to take a shower and be off to bed, to which his mother asked if he could help give Sherlock a bath. Mycroft nodded and went to take care of himself before gathering Sherlock to do his.

Sherlock only complained about it once, and that was because he didn't have his best friend, Pirate Joe, with him. Mycroft went to get him and placed him in the tub with Sherlock, and from then on Mycroft was able to bathe him with ease.

Their mother came into the bathroom just as Mycroft was drying Sherlock's hair with a towel.

"Come along, Sherlock, lets go get you into some nice pajamas. I washed your bee ones yesterday, do you want those?"

"Bees!"

"Bees it is, then."