All my life

Aged 5

John was ordinary, he knew that, but something about John's ordinary just made him more interesting.

Sherlock had been sitting on his bed for over an hour, staring at the ceiling, trying to calm his racing heart when Mycroft came in. 'Houghton says you are going, little brother- why are you not packed?'

Sherlock turned away from his elder brother and stared at the wall, pulling his knees up to his chin. 'I'm not going.' Sherlock said, trying to keep his voice level, otherwise Mycroft might think he was upset and make fun of him.

The truth was Sherlock was frightened.

Yes, he, the great Sherlock Holmes, was scared to go to his best friend's house for a sleepover.

His stomach had been aching and clenching ever since he had woken up that morning. Sherlock was just too nervous. What if John's mother didn't like him? What if they made fun of him? What if he insulted them? Sherlock knew he wouldn't be able to bear it if John was no longer allowed to see him.

Mycroft sat on the side of the bed and touched Sherlock's back lightly, making him flinch. He didn't like people touching him. Apart from maybe John.

'Why not?' Mycroft's voice was gentle, surprising him. Usually Mycroft laughed at him when he showed (ugh) emotion.

'What if they don't like me? What if they won't let me see John again?' he sobbed into his hands. The tension in his stomach had settled in his chest, expanding, and Sherlock felt like he was going to throw up.

'It will be fine, Sherlock. They'll love you.' Mycroft comforted. The ball in Sherlock's chest decreased a little. 'Really?'

'Of course.' Sherlock sat up, sniffing, and smiled at his older brother. 'Thanks, Myc.'

Mycroft groaned. 'Do not call me that.' he nudged his brother playfully and Sherlock sprang up, hastily wiping the tears away. He was being stupid. John had invited him round. John's mum had said it was ok. John had promised they would mostly be alone and John had called Sherlock excitedly last night to tell him his mum was letting them have the den to sleep in.

Sherlock would have fun with his best friend. Of course he would.

Mummy was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, surprising Sherlock because nowadays Mummy spent most of her time in her bedroom, crying. Mycroft had flinched when he saw her but Sherlock smiled widely and sprinted towards her. 'Mummy! Mummy!'

Mummy had frowned at him, her face blank. 'William, dear.' She mumbled. 'Why have you got a bag packed?'

Sherlock was confused as to why Mummy was calling him William. No one called him William...apart from Daddy. 'Daddy's not here, Mummy, you can call me Sherlock, and I'm going to John's house.' He raised his voice proudly as he said John's name. He had told Mummy all about John.

'Oh, Sherlock, darling, that's excellent! John's your friend, isn't he?' Mummy smiled at him and he beamed back. 'For a sleepover, Mummy!' Sherlock nervously toyed with the straps on his bag. He had never slept over at someone else's house before.

Mummy ruffled his hair and he preened, standing up and shooting Mycroft a smug look. Mycroft rolled his eyes. 'I have no need for a goldfish, Sherlock. If you do not remember, alone protects and sentiment is a chemical-'

'Defect, found on the losing side.' Mummy whispered. Sherlock noticed her eyes had glazed over again and shot a worried look at Mycroft, who drew himself up to his full height and smiled thinly at Sherlock. 'Go and play, brother mine. See you tomorrow.'