BBC Sherlock Imagines (Book 2)

Tweenlock: Road Trip

Request for --SherlockHolmes--

~

"Ready to go?" asked Violet, turning around and flashing a big smile at you, Sherlock, and Mycroft who sat all squished in the back.

"No," grunted Mycroft.

"Hope no one forgot anything, no turning back now," said Siger, backing out of the driveway.

"Wait!" yelled Sherlock. Immediately the car jerked to a stop, and you flew forward in your seat. "Mycroft forgot his positive attitude," grinned Sherlock, giving his brother a cheesy grin. You burst into laughter as Mycroft elbowed Sherlock when their parents weren't looking, and slipped in his headphones. He shifted away from you both and looked out the window.

You knew he wasn't happy to be stuck in the back with you two - there was something about 11 year olds and 18 year olds that made them not get along all the time. Not to mention Mycroft wasn't just any other 18 year old, he was, well, Mycroft. But it was his last family trip (you always went on them, you were practically family) before going off to uni, and you were determined to make this the least suckiest of the trips for him, meaning you were trying to keep your annoying level to a minimum. However, you couldn't control Sherlock's. Lately he had been bothering his brother more and more lately, probably because he realized he was leaving soon and driving him crazy was his way of saying he would miss him.

Sherlock turned towards you and rolled his eyes, then pulled out the books you two had packed from the knapsack between his feet. He handed you yours and you immediately turned to your bookmark, looking out the window once more before delving deep into your fictional world.

Two hours later you could smell the ocean. You watched the trees swaying in the wind and you smiled happily to yourself when the car finally pulled into the small parking lot. A sign outside your window read "Walberswick Beach". You felt Sherlock push you out the door as you opened it. Little piles of sand littered the parking lot, leftovers from people emptying out their shoes and sand toys. Siger opened the trunk and everyone grabbed out their blankets and windbreakers and bags. Then, you were off. 

It was a warm 22 degrees outside, and as you slipped off your sandals the sand heated up your feet. You walked slow as a group, taking in the beautiful scenery and trying to find a good spot to make camp. Eventually Violet and Siger stopped, setting down their lawn chairs and laying out blankets. Mycroft still hadn't taken out his headphones since you had arrived, and you nudged Sherlock, motioning to his brother who laid on a blanket, jacket covering his eyes and pale legs exposed.

He crawled over to him, lifting the jacket up a bit and pulling out a single headphone. "What?" asked Mycroft, using his hand now to shield his face from the sun.

"Can we bury you?" asked Sherlock.

You mentally facepalmed. Did Sherlock know his brother at all? Being buried and getting sand in all the cracks and crevices of his body was probably the last thing Mycroft wan-

"Sure." You and Sherlock dropped your jaws in shock, both exchanging odd looks as Mycroft walked away a couple feet to an empty space of sand. You both followed him, making sure to grab the shovels you had brought.

You began digging, making sure to construct a hole that would fit the dimensions of Mycroft. Sherlock went to go to fill the pails with water, and you instructed Mycroft to lay down in the 4 inch grave. Sherlock was back now and he poured the water on the sand, to which you began packing onto Mycroft as a means of making the dryer sand stick.

You worked and worked, while Mycroft lay there. You asked him questions about anything, letting him drone on and on in scientific terms while you pretended to understand him. You would never admit this to him, or god forbid Sherlock find out, but you looked up to Mycroft in a way. You wanted to be just as smart as he. You mentally noted what classes he took in school so you too could take those and hopefully retain all the knowledge he did.

Eventually, he was covered in the shiny grits. Only his head and a tiny bit of his neck peeked out. "Mycroft we're done," said Sherlock. He didn't answer though, and you two shared a look. Sherlock bent down to move his glasses, and you noticed that both of his eyes were closed. He had fallen asleep, which explains his odd silence the last couple minutes you had been working.

Sherlock stood back up next to you, an evil glint in his eyes. "Go fill the bucket with water." You obeyed, walking towards the ocean. When you reached the water's edge the tide was crashing towards you, the wave getting smaller and small until only an inch of water coated the bottoms of your feet. You wrinkled your toes, attempting to dispel the chilliness. You waded further in, letting it get up to your ankles before filling the bucket and walking back over.

Sherlock was kneeling down, dumping two small mounds of sand on Mycroft. "Wet the sand here," he ordered. You dumped the water where he pointed, then watched as her carved the mounds into two half circles on Mycroft's chest. You had to think for a moment before you realized...

"Mycroft has boobs," snorted Sherlock as he stood by you and wiped the sand on his board shorts. You both snickered, which in turn woke up Mycroft.

"What the, how long have I been out?" he asked, moving his head around a bit. His sunglasses slipped down his face.

"Long enough that you changed from Mycroft to Boobcroft," chuckled Sherlock.

"Sherl, are you being nice to your brother?" called Violet.

"Mum, he put mounds on me!" yelled Mycroft. He was trying to glare at the two of you, but there was a glimmer of humor in his eyes.

Sherlock's parents stood up, walking over to see what all the fuss was about. Sherlock cowered behind you, expecting his parents to explode on him. But instead, they burst into laughter while Violet urged you to kneel down next to Mycroft for a picture.

"Now get me out of here," grumbled Mycroft. You and Sherlock knelt down, pushing pounds of sand off of him as he wriggled free. He held up his hands, so you and Sherlock each grabbed one and pulled him up. When he was finally on his feet he looked down admiringly at you two and patted your heads. You and Sherlock smiled at each other, sharing the same feeling of happiness from the small touch of sentiment from Mycroft Holmes.

~

It was now dark out the window as the car whizzed back down the road you came. After the beach, you and the fam had stopped for dinner, then ate ice cream and watched as the sun set. Your skin felt like it had been kissed by the sun all day, and your arms and legs were sighing with relief now that they were at rest. It was well past your bedtime at home, so it was no surprise that you felt your eyelids drooping.

You felt a weight lay itself on your shoulder, and you looked over to a bush of curly black hair in your face. Sherlock was asleep on your shoulder, and from what you could make out in the dark, Mycroft had fallen asleep with his head against the window. Both of the boys let out tiny snores, barely audible against their measured breathing. You smiled as you laid your head back into its sleeping position, thanking your lucky stars for your best friend sleeping against you, and his brother on the other side.

A/N

I want someone to love me the way Dean loves his car.. Like that is true relationship goals right there.

Also

My favorite thing ever that literally makes me laugh every time is when you folks comment that you're in class or something or with your family or its like the middle of the night and you're trying not to laugh out loud and like I don't know that just makes me so happy and proud so shoutout to you all lol

Random: What is your favorite accent from around the world?

"Something in me wants more. I can't rest."
- Sylvia Plath