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Summary
"We have what you might call... a difficult relationship." The long and winding road to Holmescest, and beyond.
Mycroft wanders on the edge of sleep, the pleasant twilight of the mind when all things seem possible. His room is still and calm; there’s only the low, steady tick of the clock and the occasional shift and snap from the banked fire in its grate. He lies on his left side, one hand under the pillow, the other lightly resting on the crotch of his pyjama bottoms. He thinks of school, his mind’s eye summoning up the invisible threads of friendship, competitiveness and hatred that join his fellow eighth-grade students and himself in a tangled web. A snip here, a twist there, and with a little time and encouragement he hopes he might yet shape the threads according to his will.