"…Will she be alright?" John asked as his eyes followed Hamish and Eloise Holmes down the hall.

The ‘two and a half’ Baker Street Boys had arrived at the Holmes estate no more than fifteen minutes ago. Mycroft had invited them on his mother’s behalf, and they were set to spend the weekend there. Sherlock had been against making the trip outside London from the start… but John was eager for a bit of a break, and Hamish had yet to meet his Grandmother.

When they’d stepped out of Mycroft’s hired car, the house-help swooped in and took their luggage inside. Eloise ‘Mummy’ Holmes met them at the door, bringing her boys in for a polite kiss on the cheek - while John was given an actual embrace (Mothers in general seemed to adore him; Sherlock had pointed it out countless times).

But when Eloise had caught sight of Hamish, shyly standing behind the three men on the front steps of the estate, she’d frozen. No one spoke for a good five minutes, and John found himself on the cusp of breaking the silence himself, when Sherlock said: “Mother… this is Hamish.”

Eloise had turned her eyes to Sherlock - and again, John felt like he was being left out of a wordless conversation. He could have sworn that Eloise’s eyes began to mist over, before she blinked, and looked back to her grandson.

She gently beckoned Hamish (who had been shifting back and forth on his feet rather nervously for the past ten minutes) inside, and led them down the hall and out of sight without a word.

Sherlock tilted his chin up ever-so-slightly, “She’ll be fine.”

"She would be better if you’d actually informed her she had a grandson prior to your arrival.” Mycroft sighed; there was a clear twinge of irritation in his voice that John knew could indicate an oncoming ‘Holmes brothers tiff’.

He rolled his eyes, prepared to defuse the argument, when Mycroft’s words actually sunk in.

"Hang on… Sherlock, you didn’t TELL your mother you had a son?" John repeated in disbelief. "Oh God. Jesus, Sherlock… no wonder she looked so taken aback.”

"Mummy doesn’t need me to tell her anything, Mycroft.” Sherlock growled toward his older brother, completely ignoring John.

The government official straightened, “Only because that boy is the spitting image of you.” He blinked slowly, and pursed his lips. “Couldn’t help injecting some unnecessary drama into the weekend? Really, Sherlock.” His younger sibling smirked, and refused to answer. “No matter. I’ll look forward to seeing Mummy tear a strip off you later. Dinner is at six o’clock sharp.” Mycroft drawled, before he nodded to the doctor in farewell, and disappeared into the lounge.

"Nice, Sherlock." John groaned. "I was rather hoping for a nice, relaxing weekend."

"Boring." The consulting detective grinned, nudging John in the side in a silent command to follow as he led them up the grand staircase. "It’s better that my Mother find out about Hamish this way. She would not have taken the news well over the phone. After all, this isn’t something one just blurts out, is it? …I’m not quite sure, myself, seeing as it’s my first time.” Sherlock mused.

"Your ONLY time, hopefully. The last thing this world needs is more Holmeses."

Sherlock frowned - though his eyes retained a playful spark that John had come to know well, “But then everyone would be Holmesless…”

"You’re so fucking funny." John muttered, shaking his head as a small smile tugged on the corner of his mouth. "Which room’s mine? I think I fancy a nap before dinner." He asked, glancing through each door they passed. "This place is enormous, by the way."

Sherlock made a face, “Sleeping? Pointless, John.” When his partner fixed him with a pointed look, the lanky detective sighed. “Fine. I will show you to your room, if you can deduce which room was my favorite as a child.” Sherlock challenged slyly.

"Pft. You’re joking." John scoffed. "I know you better than you think I do." He made a slight show of straightening his jacket, before he started searching through each room they passed.

Finally, the pair came across the exact place John had been looking for. It looked to be a small library, or study, of sorts. He’d never been there before, of course, but John had a hard time imagining Sherlock as a boy who preferred the outdoors.

The Library was a safe bet.

"Oh. Well done, John. Really, well done." Sherlock praised.

His tone, however, was anything but proud. There was a smoothness and hint of sarcasm to it that John, again, was very familiar with. He tensed, and looked around them. “…What? What did I get wrong?”

"Nothing." Sherlock shrugged innocently, keeping his eyes fixed on John as he approached him. John backed up until he was against one of the bookshelves that encompassed the walls of the room.

John looked up at Sherlock suspiciously as the taller man stood inches from him. “So. Show me to my room then, you nutter.”

"Happy to." Sherlock’s smug ‘tricked-you’ smile was the last thing John saw - before his partner pushed on the bookcase behind him. It swung open, and John tumbled back into, what was apparently, a secret bookcase passage.

'I thought these things only existed in bloody murder mysteries,' John thought horrifically to himself. “Sherlock!” He bellowed.

The detective simply chuckled and slipped into the passage with John; allowing the bookcase to swing shut, and back into it’s natural (unassuming) position.

# parentlock

Anonymous - more #parentlock please! I really love what you’re doing here. How about a family visit to the Estate? or at least Mycroft’s house!

…Everyone seems to like Helen Mirren for Mummy Holmes. I still use HBC as my kidlock Mummy Holmes, but Mirren works alright for #parentlock :)

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