Catching up somewhat. Bit by bit, getting things together.

December 9th Prompt from embracetheweird: "Tidy your room!"

NB: I have Sherlock as around 8 years old here, making Mycroft about 15.

"Tidy your room!"

"No!" cried the young Sherlock Holmes.

Mycroft put his thumb and forefinger against his nose in his signature expression of impatience.

"Sherlock, if you do not tidy your room, you shall not have pudding for a month," the elder Holmes threatened.

"That's not true," Sherlock said, calling his brother's bluff. He glanced at the chemistry textbook he was flipping through before adding, "That's cook's decision, not yours."

"I could persuade her," Mycroft replied. "I'm sure she has just as much distaste for little boys who do not clean their rooms as Mother and I do."

"Mother doesn't care," the younger Holmes retorted as he added a bit of ammonium nitrate to his chemical concoction. "She knows I have a system."

"Oh? And what, pray tell, is that?"

Without looking, Sherlock pointed behind him to the bedside table. "All schoolwork goes on the bedside table. Chemistry work and apparati go next to the window unless they are light sensitive in which case they go on the top shelf of the closet. Clothes that are clean go on the straight-backed chair; dirtied ones in the space behind the chair. The microscope remains in the closet next to the plaster of Paris skeleton and the extra tyre for my bicycle. Fresh paper and ink remain on the left side of the desk unless in use. The bottom two drawers are for chemicals and the top one for extra pencils and curiosities. The literature which Father inflicts upon us goes under the bed unless I know he's coming to see my room. Then, they go with the schoolwork on the bedside table. Have I left anything out?"

"Yes," said Mycroft. "Where do you fit in this equation?"

"Either on the bed or in this chair of course." He turned to face his brother with a look of smug satisfaction. "Really, Mycroft, you are getting dense."

The elder Holmes grit his teeth, but otherwise kept his composure. Not that his little brother would have noticed. He was already focused on his chemicals again. "So, as you can see, I do have a system," Sherlock added as he mixed his solution. "You simply are not clever enough to observe it."

"I see," said Mycroft. He paused for a moment before adding, "Do you think Father would be clever enough to observe this system of yours?"

Sherlock turned to his elder brother with an expression of horror. "You wouldn't!"

"I most certainly would," Mycroft replied. "So I suggest you find a system that is more conducive to the average intellect, or else face his wrath."

Sherlock glared at his brother. "Fine," he murmured after awhile. "I'll put things away."

"Thank you, brother dearest," Mycroft replied, a hint of a smirk crossing his lips. He closed the door to his brother's room, merely adding as he closed it, "I'll leave you to your experiments."

Reviews appreciated as always!