Coping

Chapter 1

"Mummy, please. I hate that school. I hate it. I hate the other children. Why can't I go with Mycroft to Wilhams?"

Mrs. Holmes shook her head. "Sherlock, I don't understand. There will be kids there too that you don't like."

"But Mycroft will be there. He understands me," Sherlock muttered.

"You hate each other!"

"But he's not an idiot, like the rest of them. He's smart, like me."

Sighing, Sherlock's mother said, "We'll talk about this later, after vacation. Okay?"

"Alright," Sherlock relented.

Every summer since Sherlock was two, the Holmes family had taken a vacation to their house in Ireland. This summer was going to be a little different, though. Sherlock's service dog, Redbeard, had recently been trained, and was still learning to work with him. Sherlock was only just beginning to cope with being blind.

"Are you all packed? Need any help?" Asked Mycroft, who was being far too kind.

Sherlock sighed. "Mycroft, you don't have to be nice to me. I can still think, I just can't see."

"I know," said Mycroft. "I know. I just... I want to help you."

"No," Sherlock shook his head. "Just be yourself. That's all I need you to do for me. I'm fourteen, I can handle being blind. I just have to figure it out." He started to look around, but realized that he couldn't see. "Mycroft?"

"Hm?"

"Where's Redbeard?" Mycroft started to speak, but at the sound of his name, the dog made his way back to Sherlock.

"He was eating." Sherlock felt around for a moment, trying to find Redbeard's leash. "Here," said Mycroft, handing it to him. Sherlock muttered a quiet 'thanks.'

"I think we're all ready," said Mrs. Holmes. "David, would you put the bags into the trunk?" Sherlock's father heaved everyone's suitcases into the trunk of the new car. In order to fit Mr. Holmes, Mrs. Holmes, Sherlock, Mycroft, and Redbeard, the Holmes had had to purchase a new car, the kind with a back seat and a second back seat. A "back back" as Sherlock had once called it, when he was about four. To his disgust, the name stuck. "Sherlock, you and Redbeard are in the back back, okay?"

"Why, because there are bigger windows up there for Mycroft?" Sherlock said, for his own amusement.

His father and Mycroft laughed as well. "What, can't you see back there?" The humor was welcome, as it had been an intense week, with his mother fretting so often.

Sherlock and Mycroft were laughing, but their mother shot a supercilious scowl at their father. "David," she said quietly. "Please don't joke about it."

"Lighten up a little," he said. "Sherlock thought it was funny."

"Yeah, Mum. It's okay. Really." With help from his father, Sherlock climbed into the very back of the car, Redbeard following close behind. Mycroft hopped behind the driver's seat, and his parents climbed in the front.

Starting up an audiobook that Sherlock had requested, the Holmes began to drive.

---

The airport was hectic, and Sherlock clutched to Mycroft's arm, not yet fully trusting Redbeard. People bumped into him everywhere, and the noise coming from all around made it difficult to tell where he was, even though he had been here every year for twelve years.

Once they were past security and in their waiting area, Mycroft asked if Sherlock needed to use the restroom, to which Sherlock nodded. "Okay. Mummy, I'm taking Sherlock to the restroom. We'll be right back." She nodded and gave a little wave. "Come on, it's over here." Sherlock allowed himself to be pushed around a bit by his brother, even though he knew that it made him inferior. "I'll just wait out here," said Mycroft. Sherlock stood still, not knowing where to go.