Give Me A Label (I'll Make Confetti)

Chapter 46: Dinners

Mycroft sighed as he sat at the dinner table. It was Thursday- just after seven- and Gregory had work, which meant Mycroft had nowhere to go. BJ had offered to hang out with him at Greyson Lake; since the whole thing between him and Gregory had started, Mycroft had been talking to BJ a lot more than he used to.

Mycroft was surprised to find that he enjoyed hanging out with BJ, and BJ seemed to feel the same way. They were, despite their different personalities, friends. Of course it helped that Sally and BJ were still good friends, and since Anthea was dating Sally, Mycroft saw BJ a lot more.

Despite his other option being dinner with both parents, Mycroft had declined BJ's offer. He didn't feel like getting tipsy at Greyson Lake, not if Gregory wasn't there. He found that getting drunk without the other teenager was boring.

So here he was, on a Thursday night, having dinner with his family. Meghan was, of course, prattling on about the latest gossip- Mrs Saunders was sleeping with Mr Ralling, and wasn't that just completely fascinating?- while Siger read the paper like it was the most interesting thing in the world, and Sherlock mashed his peas until they resembled baby vomit.

Mycroft pushed his own vegetables around while he poked at the steak with his knife. He'd never been a big red meat eater, preferring chicken, but his mother always forgot that when she told Mr Andrew what to make.

'Mycroft, how's school?' Meghan asked, breaking her eldest son from his thoughts.

'Fine, Mother,' he answered like he always did. 'I have a lot of homework to get through until my teachers assign us even more homework to do over the Christmas holidays.'

'Oh, Christmas,' Meghan sighed dreamily. 'It's such a wonderful time of year.'

'Why?' Sherlock asked, scowling at his food like it had personally offended him. 'A bunch of stupid people buying into the idea that the gifts you give in some way show just how much affection you hold for the people in your life.'

'Sherlock, it's wonderful,' Meghan tutted. 'The snow, the lights, getting together with friends and family.'

'And spending ridiculous amounts of money on shit that you won't use three weeks after the 25th,' Sherlock muttered.

'Don't swear, Sherlock,' Siger growled.

Sherlock jumped- normally it was Meghan telling him off for swearing- and looked at Mycroft, who raised an eyebrow. 'Erm... sorry, Father,' Sherlock tried.

Siger just snorted, eyes still glued to his newspaper. Before Meghan could continue her rant about Christmas, the double doors behind her opened slowly and Anthea entered.

'Forgive my tardiness,' the girl said, her BlackBerry noticeably absent. Siger always shouted when anyone pulled a mobile phone at the table.

'Anthea, dear, where were you?' Meghan asked as she swirled her wine.

'I was speaking with my mother on the phone,' Anthea said.

'Oh? And how are your parents?' Meghan questioned.

Anthea slid into her seat and Mr Andrew appeared with a plate. Anthea thanked him before answering Mrs Holmes. 'They're doing fine,' she said, 'however my grandfather doesn't seem to be getting any better. The doctors don't hold high hopes for him beating the cancer due to his age, and are estimating he'll pass in February, perhaps sooner.'

'Oh, that's no good,' Meghan tisked. Anthea just shrugged. 'And they're staying with him until then?'

'Yes,' Anthea nodded.

'Well, if you want to visit them for Christmas, just let me know,' Mrs Holmes said with a smile.

Anthea looked like she wanted to poke her tongue out but wisely kept it in her mouth. Anthea's relationship with her parents was just likes the Holmes boys' relationship with theirs.