Mycroft's Goldfish

Chapter 2- Mother and Father dearest

[ 17-02-1989 ]
54 days since Christmas
(A/N- probably...it's late and I can't be bothered working it out properly...bare with me here. 😂)
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The rain was hitting off the window drastically. Mycroft was watching it for a while before he realised how dramatic he must of looked, it was like something ordinary people would watch on television. He shook his head before walking to his grand four-poster bed and sorting the sheets and pillows. He had a tendency to subconsciously make things neater. 'Perhaps he has OCD' he remembered his father telling his mother, 'Theres nothing wrong with sorting things up!' She would reply, angrily because he'd just suggested there was something wrong with her precious Mycroft. His father would then tut and grumble something out of hearing distance of her, before going back to reading the newspaper. He missed them alot. He kept the letter his mother wrote in his safe, once Sherlock has read it of course.

"Mycroft, are you in there?" He heard a little yet confident voice at the other side of his door. "Yes, of course I am. This is my bedroom, isn't it?" Mycroft rolled his eyes and sighed, "What do you want Sherlock?" There was no noise. Mycroft got up and went to his door, slowly unlocking it suspiciously. He peeked his head out and looked around. "Sherlock?" He said, unimpressed at his brother disappearing. "Where are you brother mine?" Closing his door and locking it, he casually strolled down the hallway to Sherlock's bedroom. No one there. He went to the kitchen, dining room, lounge, library, and even the bathrooms. Mycroft was getting worried, he definitely wouldn't admit that though. "Hello?" There was no one at all. No staff or nannies or Sherlock. This was getting scarier every second. Mycroft was only 11, so he was a little bit frightened.

He just stood for a minute and held his breath so there'd be no noise. He listened, trying to find even the smallest sound in the house. There was very tiny muffled voices coming from downstairs. Mycroft ran as fast as he could. Getting closer and closer to the voices. '"Maybe it was intruders. They might have taken Sherlock and the staff. Did they not know about me? Or was someone coming to find him right now?" He was thinking to himself, all the questions zooming about in his head. His heart was beating faster now, his breathing had increased in pace.

As he creeped into the small lounge he saw his mother and father sitting with cups of tea in their hands. Sherlock was cuddled into his mum and the staff were coming in and out welcoming them with big smiles. His father noticed Mycroft standing in the doorway. He smiled a genuine smile and with his hand he gestured his son to come in. Mycroft walked over slow and steady but then gave up and launched himself at his father. With a hug, of course, not a punch. They hugged for a minute or so before his mother came to greet him too.

It was weird to them, their parents weren't affectionate or caring, ever, but they must have saw how much their sons had missed them. Sherlock had a huge smile plastered on his face.
~~~

After a long day of catching up, it was Sherlock and Mycrofts bedtime. They wanted to spend more time with their parents but of course everything comes to an end. He got into bed and switched off the lamp next to him. Mycroft thought of the days events and chuckled a bit. He was glad his parents were back. His little brother was getting more needy of them, and well....Mycroft wanted them back too. He considered what tomorrow would bring and decided that he should get to sleep so he would have enough energy for it.
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