Miscellanea

DISCLAIMER: Sherlock Holmes and his universe are the grand creations of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, not me.

KS: After becoming bored at my grandmother’s birthday party, I ventured outside and wandered about my grandparents’ yard…which is where I got the inspiration for this. I tried doing research for it, but couldn’t come up with much. (Useless internet…XD)

As a note, I wrote this....quite some time ago. XD One or two of you have already read it via e-mail, if I recall correctly.

Enjoy!

Six-year-old Sherlock Holmes quickly grew bored with the chatting adults scattered around the house for his father’s birthday party. He managed to slip out, unnoticed, and began to walk around the extensive yard. He didn’t really have any purpose…he just wanted to be out in the quiet to think.

It was a very lovely day, and he felt the warmth of the sun soaking into his chilled bones—that house was so terribly draughty! There was a light breeze that kept him from getting too hot, and he stuck his hands into his pockets as he strolled along.

He observed an ant climbing a tree nearby, and as it crawled upward a very large bee flew in front of him, and his head turned quickly to watch it fly until it disappeared.

Wow… he thought. I wonder what kind of bee that was…?

After a moment he continued on until he came to a small, peculiarly rocky place in the yard next to a tree. He kicked at the small stones, hoping to find at least one that looked interesting, but they were all quite ordinary. So, he looked up at the trees.

He observed a butterfly as it flitted through the sunlight between one tree and another and watched with interest the way it flapped its wings to remain aloft.

We walked a little farther and stopped as he heard a strange noise.

Snip, snip, snip…

The young boy looked up, knowing the strange noise was coming from that direction, and his large silvery eyes darted quickly across the branches. He soon espied a single insect perched on a leaf, snipping away with powerful mandibles. Soon a piece about three-fourths of an inch long fell away, and the little creature fell with it in its jaws, but it immediately started to fly, and Sherlock watched it as it carried its prize back to wherever its destination was.

He tried to leap up and grasp the leaf from which the section had been taken, but he was too short. He looked over at the tree’s trunk and contemplated climbing it. He knew he could, for he had done it several times before (the first time he had, Mycroft had been forced to “rescue” him when he fell out…resulting in a sprained wrist for the elder Holmes child).

He grasped the highest branch he could reach and set his foot upon the lowest and proceeded to scurry up to the branch which held the leaf. He was scuffing up his new shoes, but that didn't matter; he wanted to inspect the leaf. He reached for it; still he was too far away. Cautiously he scooted farther out, and finally he was able to pluck the leaf from the branch. He retreated to a place on the branch closer to the trunk and placed his back against it, swinging his scrawny legs from either side of his perch.

He examined it minutely, and saw that the cut was surprisingly clean. It was interesting…not extremely so, but fascinating in its own way. He twirled the stem between his fingers thoughtfully as he looked around; the view was very good from his current position. He put the leaf into his pocket and climbed back down, dropping from the lowest branch onto the dirt below. He resumed his amblings, noting how different the fresh air was to the musty odour of the house.

Nature was fascinating. There were many mysteries about it—like, what was the insect’s exact purpose for taking that segment of leaf? He did not think that studies of nature would be a good choice of career for him…it was hardly as active as he would like to be. But perhaps when he got much older and needed to slow down...

“Sherlock!” called a husky boy standing at the corner of the house. “Sherlock!”

“Here, Mycroft!” the boy called, running up to his older brother.

“There you are. Mother was wondering where you got off to. She wants you to play a song for the guests.”

“But, I’m not that good yet…do you really think I’ll be able to?” the younger child asked curiously, looking up at his brother with unsure eyes.

“Of course. And if you’re not, it won’t matter, because I’m sure they don’t expect much from a child, especially not one so unhealthy-looking as you. Now come, I’m missing luncheon.”

KS: Thanks for reading! Don't forget to review!