“Sherlock! Whatever is taking you so long?” You call from the bottom of the stairwell.
There is no reply and you look down impatiently to Mycroft who shrugs before readjusting the tiny backpack on his shoulders. You sigh dramatically before marching upstairs, making sure to stomp heavily to create a sense of foreboding for the youngest Holmes. You thrust the door open to the small brunette’s room, ready to thoroughly chew him out.
“What are you doing?”
You watch as Sherlock, who sat on the floor in front of his backpack, fretted over a football* and a baseball.
“I can’t decide. If I take the baseball, when I hit him it’ll really hurt. The problem is that I may miss. The football on the other hand increases my chances of actually hitting my target…”
He sighs wistfully as he analyzes them critically. You step into the room with your mouth slightly opened in dismay.
“And just who are trying to hit?”
“Moriarty of course,” he replies plainly as he briefly spares you a glance.
“No. Absolutely not!” you reprimand as you sweep over to him, taking the circular objects from him and throwing them to the other side of the room.
“(Y/N)!” Sherlock complains as you pull him to his feet by his newly freed hands before offering his backpack to him.
He eyes you angrily before huffing and slipping backpack onto his shoulders. You nod with approval before taking up one of Sherlock’s hands. Sometimes you swore the boy had to be kept on a leash in order to be kept out of trouble. But even then…
You sigh as you and Sherlock climb down the last of the stairs and enter the foyer.
“You ready, My?” Mycroft nods indifferently and you nod in kind.
Honestly though, as much as you loved them your brothers had to have been the strangest children the world had to offer.
“We’re leaving now!” You call to your grandmother, who was likely piddling about in the kitchen.
Christmas time was upon you all and everyone and their mother was revved for the holiday. The streets were lit with lights of various colors and glazed in reefs and holly. You were met with a cold rush of wind when you urged the door open and instinctively you kneel down to to pull the muffler around brothers tightly.
“I can do it myself,” Sherlock explains with the roll of his eyes, but he makes no move to remove your hands from the soft fabric around his neck.
By the time you finish ‘tucking’ Sherlock in and turning to Mycroft, the other Holmes has appropriately bound himself. He gives you this knowing look and you smile proudly, patting him lightly on his head.
You smile at that bright voice and look to see Jim making his was over, John following closely behind. Their hot breaths mingle with the chilly December air, but the coldness hasn’t dimmed the smile on Jim’s face. Sherlock makes this gagging noise as he rolls his eyes and you promptly flick him on his forehead. He glares silently as Jim draws near, throwing his small body into your legs.
“Good morning Jim!” you greet with a smile as you playfully run your fingers through his soft black hair.
“Good morning!” He then leans around you to offer Sherlock a sickly sweet smile, “Good morning Sherlock.”
“Aww! Jim you are simply the sweetest!” you coo as you take up one of his hands before leading the way.
“I don’t like him,” Sherlock mutters as he moves to follow after you.
“I think Jim’s alright.”
“You think everyone is alright, John!”
John pouts but decides not to say anything more, knowing full and well how any more words would only encourage Sherlock’s barrage of insults.
“I sure wish you were my sister!” Jim says happily as he swings both his and your arm, slyly glancing to Sherlock with a sly grin.
“He’s trying to steal my sister,” Sherlock says harshly to John.
“He can’t steal our sister,” Mycroft replies with the roll of his eyes, as he slides his gloved hands into his pockets.
“Mycroft’s right. He can’t steal your sister. That’s not how it works,” John adds in as he makes sure to kick up a slight mound of snow as you all continue down the sidewalk.
“But knowing him, he’d figure it out…”
“You know, sometimes you’re really weird,” John says as he looks o Sherlock, who seemed to be pondering something.
“You’re not allowed to say that. You’re my best friend. You’re supposed to think everything I do is amazing.”
“We’re best friends now?” John inquires rather seriously, “But yesterday you said we weren’t friends at all.”
“We weren’t yesterday. Now we’re best friends today.”
John blinks absently before looking to Mycroft, “That’s not how it works…is it?”
Mycroft shakes his head simply, “No.”
“See! Mycroft agrees. We can’t be friends one day and then not another.”
“And why not?”
“Because what?” Sherlock as with a smug grin spreading across his tiny face.
“Because everyone says so!”
“Stop asking me questions!”
“It’s not my fault my best friend’s an idiot.”
“Sherlock! What have I told you about the ‘I’ word?” you reprimand as you look over your shoulder to the youngest Holmes.
He pretends to contemplate about what it was you have possibly told him before replying ever so snarky.
“Not to use it…unless it was true.”
“Sherlock!” you cry out taking your hand from Jim’s to give Sherlock your full attention, but he quickly bounds across the street and towards the gates of the school and the small crowd of other children passing through said gates.
“Look we’re at school! See you this afternoon!” He calls complacently from across the street before crossing onto school grounds.
“Honestly!” you huff before sighing.
John looks to you with a soft smile before moving to hug you, “Thanks for walking me to school again, (y/n).”
“Oh…you’re welcome sweetheart,” you reply gently as you pat him on his head.
“Hurry up, John! I’m not going to wait all day!”
John gives you this adorable put-out look before you both presume to giggle. You gesture lightly with the nod of your for him to go on ahead and he nods with a smile. He hugs you once more before looking both ways and crossing the street over to Sherlock. You shake your head before bending down to kiss Mycroft on the cheek.
“You behave alright”
He smirks before completely grinning, “Don’t I always?”
And with that he too crosses the road, leaving only you and Jim.
“Thanks for walking me here too,” Jim says sweetly, grinning widely before moving to hug you tightly, eyes resting mischievously on Sherlock.
“Don’t touch my sister!”
Jim simply chuckles before making his way across the street, “Make me,” he whispers as he passes Sherlock, who responds with silent fuming. You sigh as you watch them all chat in front of the building.
“Rough day already?”
You chuckle lightly as you turn to look to your best friend Greg. He’s got that smirk on, the one that says ‘I know everything.’
“You’ve no idea…” you reply with a smile, looking back to the boys just in time to see Sherlock chuck a tennis ball at Jim’s head, smirking devilishly all the while.
You cringe as you cry out, watching as Jim breaks out into tears.
“You evil little…” you mutter under your breath as you too cross the road to further investigate the contents of Sherlock’s backpack, leaving Greg to laugh at you and your sibling strife from the sidewalk across the street.