Coping

Chapter 2

"Goodbye, thank you for flying MJN Air! Goodbye, thank you for flying MJN-"

"Arthur, we're not flying MJN today," said Carolyn.

"Oh, right. Goodbye, thank you for flying... Uh, today. Goodbye, thank you for flying today." Arthur greeted each passenger as they left. Mycroft and Sherlock were caught waiting until everyone had gone, being the last two on the plane. Mycroft pulled down their bags and passed Sherlock's backpack to him.

"Redbeard, come here," said Sherlock. The dog stretched and walked over to Sherlock, who fumbled around in the air until he found the leash.

"Thank you very much," said Mycroft to the crew. "Sherlock," he took Sherlock's hand and guided him out through the cabin doors.

"Alright. Are we all ready?" Asked Mr. Holmes. The boys nodded, and the Holmes family made their way to the cab pickup right outside the airport.

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There was a certain smell to Ireland, Sherlock had always thought so. He was somewhat distressed that he couldn't see the beautiful, big backyard to their vacation home.

Mycroft knocked on Sherlock's bedroom door, receiving a grunt as a reply. He opened the door slowly and found Sherlock rummaging through his suitcase. "Need help?"

"No. I'll get it myself," Sherlock retorted.

"Will you join me for a walk? I need to speak with you."

"Speak to me here and then kindly leave," said Sherlock, still searching through his bag.

Mycroft sighed. "I'd like to speak to you out of doors. Come."

"No." He found his backpack and started rifling through it.

"Please?" Sherlock stopped what he was doing, out of disbelief that his brother had used the word 'please' with him. He sighed and agreed. "What are you searching for?"

"My jacket! I know I packed it!" Sherlock yelled. "I can't find anything! Not one. Bloody. Thing!" He threw a shirt behind him with each word.

Silently, Mycroft picked up Sherlock's jacket (it being one of the items he had thrown across the large, otherwise spotless room) and draped it over his shoulders. "Come on," he said quietly, trying to be sensitive of his brother. "Let's go," after Sherlock had pulled on his jacket, Mycroft lightly took his wrist to help him down the stairs. Redbeard trotted down after them, snaking his way in front of Sherlock to be in the lead.

Out in the wide, open air, Mycroft and Sherlock walked, Sherlock keeping the slightest hold of Mycroft's sleeve. "What did you want to talk about?" He asked after a few moments of silence.

"I know you want to go to Wilham's," said Mycroft. Wilham's was a boarding school that Mycroft had attended since he was Sherlock's age. Sherlock was intended to go, but his blindness changed the plans a bit. He was not going to go to a school for the blind, but instead continue attending a public school, which he knew very well. "I think you should," Mycroft continued. Sherlock stopped walking.

"What?"

"I think you should go." They picked up their pace again. "There's nothing in the rules stating that you can't. I did some research. I can help you get around. I mean, I know you're not especially... Fond of me - nor I you, for that matter - but I could help you get started. We could place you with a roommate that would be willing to a assist you, one who also shares many similar classes. I could make that all happen, after all, I am head boy this year."

"Yes, I remember from the 81st time you reminded me, thanks."

Mycroft ignored him. "What do you think?" He asked.