Chapter Text
Sherlock glanced out of the window, sighing as the dull and grey clouds swarmed over London.
"John?"
The doctor appeared from the kitchen. "Yeah?"
Sherlock suddenly ran at him, engulfing him in a hug.
"What the hell, 'Lock?" He held him for as long as Sherlock wanted, the detective soon stepped back and went back to the window. "Are you scared of the storm approaching Sherlock?"
"Nope." He popped the p and poked his tongue out at the older man as they heard the downstairs door go.
"That's your brother, isn't it?"
Sherlock grinned. "How did you know?"
"Well, apart from us, the only people with a key to 221 is Mrs. Hudson and Mycroft." Sherlock's eyebrows rose questioningly. "Well, I dropped Mrs. Hudson off at the airport about 6 hours ago so unless her plane has landed in the street…"
The detective laughed. "Great powers of deduction, John."
"He is capable of learning then," said Mycroft from the door after hearing the tail end of the conversation. "I wish mine was."
"Hey!" Came a rather high pitched yell from behind the government official. He ducked as Greg clipped him on the back of the head.
"What are you doing here, Mycroft?" Sherlock demanded as he collapsed into his seat.
"I invited them," John replied before Mycroft could.
"But that means you didn't deduce it at all!"
The doctor's chuckle travelled in from the kitchen. "Dinner's on, you lot."
Sherlock stood to cross the room. He snuck into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around his husband. "That smells… edible."
John hit him with the tea towel he was holding. "Don't be rude."
"I wasn't… that was a compliment."
They were put off from their 'couple' moment by the sound of a phone ringing.
"Mycie," Sherlock complained immediately. He knew it was his brother's, recently - since dating Mycroft - the DI had begun to switch his phone off when he was off duty.
The ringing stopped and the government official stepped into the hall to answer it.
When he stepped back in, he sighed. "The manor has been broken into, Sherlock."
The younger brother frowned. "And?"
"And? It's worth about 100million with contents that no doubt double the worth. It's our inheritance."
"It's boring."
"Even you have to admit having 100million would be pretty handy."
Sherlock sighed, "Have you got to go?"
"Yes. And so do you."
"But… but… John's cooking," he finished lamely. He didn't really want to go outside. He wasn't fond on storms and one was close, it was obvious even without watching that annoying weather woman. He also didn't really want Mycroft to leave… not that he was going to say any of that.
"Sod the dinner," John called through when the smoke alarm sounded.
Greg chuckled. "Looks like it's take-out."
"On the way to the manor," Mycroft added.
"I swear I've made that before… I just think… Sherlock, what did you put in the salt jar?"
"Oops," he raced to the door and grabbed his coat as he went.
Following the two younger men Greg and Mycroft burst out laughing. "They were so meant for each other," the DI gasped out.
Mycroft took his hand, dragging him down the stairs. "As were we."
***
Sat in the back of Mycroft's stupidly expensive Hummer, Sherlock watched London pass by. He was so amused by the slight trickling of rain, he didn't even notice when the car stopped outside Angelo's and drove off again.
After the password at the gate, Sherlock watched the familiar grass lawn of the manor. Suddenly he leant forward and smacked the microphone button. "Stop the car."
As soon as it had pulled to a halt, the detective jumped out and wandered back a bit.
John poked his head out the window. "Sherlock it's going to piss it down any moment. I'd rather be inside the house than sat out here with a sulking, soaking wet teenage husband."
Sherlock barked a laugh. "Just tell my brother to get his fat arse out here."
"Being rude again."
He laughed again. "I know. I meant it that time."
Mycroft begrudgingly joined him. "What is it, baby brother?" He would much rather be inside with John and Greg.
"Foot prints. To this spot and then back again. And a clear ball shaped outline."
Mycroft had to stop himself from smirking. "You mean…"
"Some kid climbed the fence because they kicked their ball over, nothing to do with the manor being broken into by high class thieves."
"We should probably have measures put in place if a 12, no, 11 year old can climb it."
Sherlock nodded, turning his coat collar up.
"That doesn't make you look cool after you've made a deduction, you know, little brother?"
The younger Holmes turned his nose up as he headed back to the stationed vehicle. "I'm protecting myself from the wind," he threw over his shoulder.
As Mycroft climbed in, John pointed to his umbrella he'd left on one of the spare seats. "Do you only carry that thing to look impressive and to point it at people?"
At his confused look Greg continued. "It's an umbrella," he ruffled Mycroft's hair, splashing raindrops around. "It's primary function is to keep you dry."
"No. I prefer pointing it at people."
***
John couldn't believe it. He'd opened the manor door when Mycroft had thrown him the key and it was like Sherlock had entered a portal to another world.
He pushed passed John which admittedly was fairly normal and then he took off down the hall at the fastest pace he'd ever seen him run at.
"What the hell?" He asked as Sherlock yelled out 'weeeeeeee'
"Wait for it," Mycroft cautioned, pointing to the stairs to the left of John.
The sound of thudding above them came to a halt and then another 'weeeeeee' as Sherlock slid down the banister and landed at the doctor's feet, panting.
"You're a lunatic," Mycroft called after him as he went through one door.
"Why did he-" the DI started, but Mycroft cut him off.
"Our parents never allowed us to run inside… it was the first thing he did when we were told our parents were moving north. In fact, then he did it over and over and over until he was wiped out on the floor."
At the sound of thunder outside an actual scream came from the direction Sherlock had gone in.
"Shut up Mycroft," Sherlock demanded from the kitchen table.
"I haven't said anything, little brother." He placed the food on the table beside him.
Sherlock lunged for the bag immediately.
"Did you check the second floor?" His brother asked.
The youngest Holmes glared. "No. Why would I do that?"
"In case… oh never mind." Mycroft joined them at the table, dragging Greg by the hand.
The sound of thunder crashed overhead again and Sherlock jumped into John's lap.
John kissed the back of his neck. "Child." He reached over and snatched up a lump of chicken, pushing it between Sherlock's lips. "Eat."
***
It wasn't long before they found themselves in the sitting room with beer.
"We should probably go back to Baker Street," Sherlock pointed out.
"Why? We own this place, it's about time we enjoy it."
"Admit, it, big brother, you just don't want to go outside incase you get wet without your umbrella."
"I would never let my umbrella get wet."
"Bored!" Sherlock declared, changing the conversation dramatically.
Mycroft sighed, he'd been waiting on that declaration for over an hour.
"All the games we had as children are still upstairs, Sherlock."
"They're boring."
"Of course they are," Mycroft sighed. "Well, I'm not going out in this weather, so you can quit sulking."
Sherlock pushed himself to his feet and walked over to him. "Where's your iPad?"
"On the kitchen table. Do not break it."
"I dread what he's going to do with it," John put in.
It was nearly an hour before Sherlock reappeared.
"What have you done?" John asked immediately.
"I've found a game."
John sat back and patted his lap. Sherlock sunk down to it with a grin.
"What game then?"
"Truth or dare."
"No. No, no, no."
"Why not?" Sherlock asked, not deterred. "It looks like an awesome game!"
John sighed, despite the argument being in its early stages he knew he wouldn't win.
"Fine."
Sherlock's grin was so wide it was worth it just to see the look on his face.
"Myc's turn first."
"Alright then. Truth or dare?"
"You already know the game?"
"Everyone does, 'Lock. Now truth or dare?"
"Truth," he responded, surprising all three other men.
"Was it you who stole my smurfs when I started Eton?"
John bit his lip to stop himself from bursting out laughing.
"It wasn't fair, you went away! Left me with Mummy for ages."
"So you admit it?!"
"Yes. Yes I admit it. I was 3! They're probably still in my room."
John couldn't hold it anymore. Especially after he had glanced at the DI. They both burst out laughing, the doctor even slid down the couch.
"Next!" Sherlock demanded.
"Your go," John nudged him in the ribs, still panting.
"Truth or dare?" He asked his husband.
"Truth."
"Were you gay before you met me?"
It took a long time for John to answer. "No. Yes. I don't know. I was a very confused child. My sister has been gay since before I can remember."…
The detective leant down to kiss him. "I forgive you. My go again!"
"That's not the way it works, 'Lock," the doctor patted him on the thigh."
"But I want to."
"Fine."
"Gavin, truth or dare?"
"Greg," he growled, holding Mycroft's hand in his own. "And dare."
"Oooh," John patted the sofa to give an air of surprise.
"I dare you to go in old nan's haunted room."
"Sherlock," Mycroft warned.
"What? It's a dare.
Greg looked between the brothers in confusion. "Haunted?"
"So Sherlock says."
"Hey! You saw it too."
"I don't know what I saw!" He snapped back.
"We're Holmeses. We believe what we see. It was old nan, but she'd been dead for 10 years."
"If it was old nan how could she have told us about the ghost in the room? It makes no sense, little brother."
Sherlock stood up and folded his arms, making a point of huffing. "If it makes no sense, you won't mind your boyfriend going inside."
Mycroft glanced at said boyfriend… he was a member of New Scotland Yard. A well respected experienced member. "Fine," he agreed with an incline of his head. "But we're going too. It's on the third floor and Sherlock might get scared of the thunder if we leave him here."
He poked his tongue out at his older brother and ran off ahead. "I'm not afraid of anything."
"Except me!" John yelled after him.
"Yes, except you!"