Sherlock One-Shots

Redbeard One-Shot #1

Five

It's been two years since Sherlock started drugs.

It was a weekend and I decided to visit them since I haven't seen them much because of college.

I've heard Sherlock's been doing well with his academics though. 17 years old and he's already mastered the Mind Palace technique.

I smiled.

I've been doing well too, just better. But I have to admit, I've made a few mistakes. I've gotten into smoking, but not as much as Sherlock is into drugs. Unfortunately after seeing him because he gave me a surprise visit, he's gotten into smoking too.

I removed the cigarette from my lips and exhaled the smoke. It felt good to get away from the stress once in a while.

I heard the door open behind me and I turned around, hiding the cigarette behind my back.

I narrowed my eyes and continued smoking as Sherlock came up to me, took a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it. He was about to lift it to his lips when he saw my eyes. I was disappointed in him.

He shrugged, and put it in anyway.

We were like that for a while, basking in the silence, staring into the sky, the sun slowly creeping away.

Sherlock then broke the silence by saying, "Do you ever wonder why we're alive, Mycroft?"

He started using my whole name a year ago. I've not been reacting to it much, but deep down I was sad. Sad that he's not calling me his nicknames for me anymore. Sad that he's growing up.

I assume he didn't notice my silence because he kept going.

"My classmates called me a machine, a freak even, before I deduced to tears of course. Stupid idiotic clots."

He exhaled smoke.

I espied him. His classmates bullied him? He was taking it well. Actually, maybe not. I could see bags under his eyes.

"Are we just going to be here, Mycroft? Not doing anything to anyone? I mean, our skills are phenomenal! We deserve praise!"

I bit my lip. He's losing himself, I could tell. He's trying to suppress his emotions to make way intelligence.

Before I could answer though, someone shouts at us.

"MYCROFT AND SHERLOCK HOLMES, ARE YOU SMOKING!?"

We abruptly turned around, and threw the cigarettes to the ground. I was scared to hell. I could tell he was too. Despite this, we both kept calm faces.

"No." We said at the same time.

"I don't believe that, Mr. Holmes." Our mother said threateningly.

I gulped a little.

She narrowed her eyes a bit more then turned around and left us be.

Sherlock shuddered, got another cigarette then started smoking again. But I could see the gears in his head whirring.

We both saw something in our mother's eyes before she turned. It was the look of disappointment, anger, sadness, a tinge of pity. She obviously thought we were all above that. But we were not. So she let us be, but I could tell she was going to keep a watchful eye on us.