it's a fine line between beauty and cruelty ([info]rubydreams) wrote on October 31st, 2010 at 10:46 am
English > Sherlock > "Mycroft had a little lamb"
Title: Mycroft had a little lamb
Spoilers: nothing
Category/Warnings: childhood fic, implied sheep fetish and puberty
Rating: contains no strong language, violence or imagery, implies sheep fetish and puberty
Characters/Pairings: Sherlock, Mycroft, the stuffed sheep
Word Count: 1455
Short Cut: Sherlock begins to deduce things that he doesn't even begin to understand he deduces. His brother is rather flustered
Disclaimer: Sherlock isn't mine, neither is Mycroft. Though I have my own medical officer sheep, a birthday present two years ago.

Author's notes: Backstory to Jumper Humper, based on this prompt and [livejournal.com profile] pudupudu's mini crack fill. Maybe someday I'll get around to post just what exactly Sherlock made up as a song.


Mycroft had a little lamb

The whole bickering between Mycroft and Sherlock and the subsequent teasing of Mycroft had started around the time when Sherlock had been six or seven and the raw cruelty of childhood had found method in him. In school he had learned the dangerous combination of mockery and what constituted as normal. It was even more dangerous when some deductions came to him naturally.
For one thing he knew his parents didn't have any stuffed pets, his school comrades were beginning to deny they slept with something as childish. Hence it was no real surprise when one day Sherlock came into Mycroft's room and gingerly sat down on the edge of the bed.
“Mycroft?” he asked and with a soft sigh the older brother looked up from his desk. The school holidays were slowly coming to an end and he was revising his homework.
“Yes, Sherlock?”
“What is a parody?” Sherlock asked with feigned innocence, his feet swinging freely.
“Parody is a literary or artistic work that utilises the characteristic style or elements of an author or a work for comic effect or ridicule,” Mycroft explained.
Sherlock nodded, “So... would this be parody then?” The small boy jumped up, grabbed the huge stuffed sheep from next to Mycroft's pillow and began to sing, “Mycroft had a little lamb, his bleeks was white as snow, everywhere that Mycroft went, the lamb was sure to go.”
Mycroft was frozen for a second but then jumped up, yanking his sheep from Sherlock's hands and yelling “OUT!” at his little brother.
For a moment Sherlock was shocked, staring up at his brothers red face with wide eyes and then shuffled off. He had never seen his brother so angry, not aware that Mycroft's blush was rather that of shame about what Sherlock didn't know rather than fury about what Sherlock had said.

Mummy made Sherlock apologise for teasing his brother and Mycroft for yelling at his brother, over dinner. Nevertheless Mycroft heard Sherlock hum while brushing his teeth, then singing quietly, “Why does the lamb love Mycroft so? Love Mycroft so? Love Mycroft so?W hy does the lamb love Mycroft so? The eager children cry. Why, Mycroft loves the lamb, you know. Loves the lamb, you know, loves the lamb, you know. Why, Mycroft loves the lamb, you know. The teacher did reply.”
Mycroft tensed and turned to his brother. “Stop it, Sherlock,” he ordered cooly and Sherlock left their shared bathroom with a mischievous grin.


Only when Sherlock hit puberty full force himself he began to understand why Mycroft kept – at 23 – a stuffed sheep in his bed. Sherlock understood purely intellectually, not because he shared the sheepish feelings, of course. But ever since then Mycroft got birthday and Christmas cards along the lines of “Happy Birthday to Ewe” and “I love Ewe” with fluffy little sheep on the cover.
Mycroft didn't know how he should take that.
 
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