Divided We Will Fall

The War Has Come Home

"Good morning all." Sherlock muttered as he set down the food, looking around at them all and expecting at least a little groan of greeting.
"Good morning William." Victor began, smiling up at the boy with that radiant smile that was much too bright for the morning. It was downright blinding, and after having been in the dark so long Sherlock seriously doubted it should be anywhere close to legal. His entire body gave a great shiver once more, and he merely smiled back as best as he could manage. His smile had never been his greatest feature, he could admit to that. Sherlock always thought he looked best when he was serious, contemplating, and a little bit mysterious. When he was bent over a math question, or reading a complicated book. He was most beautiful when he knew that no one was watching, which once again would be a trait that would come back to haunt him. Because how could anyone appreciate him without his knowing?
"Will you eat with us?" Moran wondered, always the first to look after Sherlock's nutritional needs. Sherlock looked back at Victor curiously, who nodded his enthusiasm while all the rest of the men were once more unresponsive. They all looked, for the most part, very near falling asleep right on the Holmes family's finest china.
"Yes I suppose I'd be allowed to." Sherlock agreed.
"Sometimes you're not allowed to eat breakfast?" Moran clarified with a bit of a chuckle, to which the men all sat exhausted and unimpressed.
"Sometimes they need me to help with the dishes." Sherlock admitted, sitting in his appropriate seat across from Victor and keeping his eyes down. He didn't want to make it too obvious to the ever observant Moran that anything more had happened between the two of them. If they seemed to be rather comfortable with each other or if they were looking and blushing a bit too obnoxiously, well that would undoubtedly send up red flags. Sherlock wasn't entirely sure what the policy was on dating those who were quartering the troops, however he had to admit that if Moran ever found out it might end up being a legal and moral mess. And so Sherlock, instead of looking at Victor, went on to serve himself some breakfast. He knew right away that his biscuits weren't anywhere near as good as either of the two mothers' batches, and yet he could enjoy them all the same. The breakfast was good, filling, and it seemed to satisfy those who could stay awake long enough to eat it (ponytail man was out cold once more, proving that snoring wasn't good table manners).
"Any plans today then?" Sherlock wondered, looking between the only two alert men to try to see what they all had on.
"Yes, actually. For us all." Moran admitted.
"That's why we're all at breakfast; we need to look content and well nourished." Victor agreed proudly. Sherlock looked between the two, as if trying to decipher what was going on that might be so important.
"What have you both got that's so prevalent? Usually you're all just posted on street corners and that's the end of it." Sherlock pointed out curiously. Half of his inquisition was due entirely to his curiosity, yet the other half was a very nagging excitement that had stirred inside of him when he discovered that two of his friends were working as spies for the militia. He was the one closest to all of these soldiers, the only one they trusted was a true loyalist and the only one they would undoubtedly share their missions with. If he knew where they were off to and why, maybe he could pass that information along and help out himself. That might help him get a better reputation throughout the rebellion, all while up keeping his status throughout the soldiers as loyal. He could play both sides, he could be useful to both sides, and he could be truly neutral once and for all.
"We've got meetings on the future outlooks; General Gage is collecting his troops from the outlying areas, and collecting them in Boston." Moran admitted finally, looking towards Victor as if making sure his words were not misspoken. Sherlock's jaw dropped, and of course that would be the reaction from most anyone who got such news. That sort of information would be amazing to any onlooker, whether he be a rebel or a loyalist. Collecting troops for future outlooks? Well that could only mean war.
"General Gage is in Boston?" Sherlock clarified horrifically.
"Well yes of course he is, he is the Governor." Moran laughed.
"I thought he was off doing military things...I heard rumors that he was in London. You really mean to say that he's collecting his forces?" Sherlock clarified nervously, looking towards Victor with a very apprehensive look. Now not only was he worried about his soldier friends but he was also worried about his real ones. If the British army was collecting in Boston what did that mean for the militia here? Where they soon to be attacked?
"Yes he's here, and he's got us all centralized. I can't say what for, for even I don't know yet." Moran admitted with a shrug.
"We'll be fine, William, if that is what you're worried about." Victor added carefully, setting down his fork on the side of his empty plate and holding up his chin on his hands. He looked thoughtful and worried, as if he didn't want Sherlock to think just yet that he was marching to his death.
"Well yes, of course I'm worried about that. I never thought I would have to worry about that, this war had been so foreign to me...yet now it's happening here. In my town, in my home." Sherlock whispered fearfully.
"Do not worry just yet, the war will be short. We will crush the militias, and we will retake control of our colonies. The casualties, William, are nothing you need worry yourself with." Moran assured carefully, smiling at Sherlock as if he was appreciative of his worry.
"I'll find a way to worry anyway." Sherlock grumbled, setting down his fork despite his plate still being full. Suddenly he wasn't very hungry, for his stomach was turning in apprehension of the future. What might happen to his friends, what might happen to the soldiers? He couldn't stand to see any one of them take a bullet, or any one of them get hanged. This answer seemed to get him smiles of approval, even though it was directly disobeying a suggestion. Almost as if, while the two men didn't want Sherlock to worry about them, they were still happy he did. Maybe this was based entirely on the fact that all of America was against them, and it was nice to have at least one local mourn for their death, should it ever come early.