Divided We Will Fall

Housing The Horrible

"Lost track of time then, had you?" Mrs. Holmes presumed, shaking her son's hand from her shoulder almost as soon as she was certain no one was watching.
"Yes, I had." Sherlock agreed rather defensively, as he wasn't entirely sure what his mother was trying to attack him about.
"I should hope that Hooper girl is not distracting you. You know that this is the most important year of your life, this year's grades will help you into the college of your choice." Mrs. Holmes reminded him.
"She's not distracting me at all, from my studies or from time. What does Molly have to do with it?" Sherlock growled, crossing his arms yet still remembering to smile, for he did love to smile when his mother knew that he wanted to do anything but. She knew of course that her rules were being followed in the most critical and sarcastic manner, and that alone was enough to get her fuming. Sherlock loved to be insufferable, especially around his parents who hated contradiction.
"Oh I don't know William; I just hope you keep the appropriate distance. You are about that age when most boys become...interested." Mrs. Holmes admitted with a shrug.
"Interested in Molly? Don't be absurd, mother." Sherlock growled, shaking his head yet knowing for a fact that his defense was a legitimate one. No one ever believed him when he insisted he wasn't in love with Molly, that's why the rumors spread so fast, because the more you deny them the more powerful they become. Sherlock hadn't yet learned that lesson, it would seem, for even now his mother was wearing that smirk that made it obvious that she thought she knew more than he did in this matter. And yet his heart was his own to interpret, and just because she had lived through marriage herself did not mean she understood what he was looking for in a wife!
"Oh stop that, you know she's very beautiful, and you two have been friends for quite a while." Mrs. Holmes persisted, yet Sherlock just shook his head miserably, refusing to listen to such talk.
"Mother I do hope that one day you learn to take my words seriously." Sherlock whined, and with that he refused to talk the whole rest of the way home. Dinner was a horrid experience, yet again another competition to see who could be the one to beat up on Sherlock the most. He never understood such harassment, especially since Mycroft 'the wonder child' was always hailed as being the most innocent and proper of the two. Oh if only they knew the things Sherlock did of Mycroft's past, present, and future! They would be appalled to learn that one of the 'savage beasts' that had raided their tea ships was actually sitting right at their table, eating their food and donning their family name! And yet even Sherlock knew that such a reminder of the loyalties of this family would be nearly crippling to his family, and for that sake alone he dared not speak. Besides, if his mother and father found out about Mycroft's patriotism Sherlock would lose the only person in this house that had actually proven to be at least tolerable in this household. And so he stayed quiet, which was usually a good tactic in this situation. He stayed quiet until he was granted permission to leave, and almost immediately he raced up to his room where he could be safe from those nagging voices once more. Sherlock loved his room; he described it always as an oasis away from whatever mess his parents had made of the house. It was hardly decorated, and yet it was tasteful since the wood paneled walls were decoration in themselves. The bed was a four poster, with long hangings that provided something of a barrier between Sherlock and the loyalists that roamed about the hallways. His honestly had it all, from a desk filled with books to a wardrobe filled with clothes, and yet all of these possessions seemed worthless when he knew he could make no proper use of them. They still seemed hallow, being that they were provided by the British money, the very same money that would be used to buy cannons, muskets, uniforms...all so as to kill off the men that were merely fighting for their own freedom. They were in bondage, all of these colonists, and yet they were just now beginning to realize the price they would have to pay to get freed! To not only unlock their shackles but to smash them off of their wrists! It was going to hurt, it was going to cost them not only money but lives as well. And yet looking in from a paradise that was constructed just to keep him away from the world for a little while, well Sherlock could honestly say it was worth it. He would be willing to lay down his life for the cause; he'd be willing to lay down most anyone's lives on the battle field if it would mean a victory. And yet no one understood that, no one could see that because he dared not speak of it! Hanging was what awaited traitors to the crown, and Sherlock could not risk snapping his beautiful neck before it was any use to anyone! Oh not just to his country, but to his future, to America's future...and to Britain's demise.