Title: Predictable -OR- The Dullest Thing One Could Possibly Do Upon Discovering Another Universe
Bingo Card Number: 3
Summary: It’s Christmas, Sherlock is thirteen and Mycroft is hatefully boring.
Author Notes: My first tumblry fic… Aaaaieeee!
When Christmas came to the Holmes household, Sherlock, as always, had too much time on his hands and nothing to do. The kitchen was strictly off limits due to excessive cooking and Mycroft had finally passed over the line from irritating to intolerable. The only things he wanted to do were tremendously boring.
Except, of course, for one thing.
At thirteen, Sherlock was no longer prone to flights of fancy. Hadn’t been for years now.
Today he’d amused himself by attempting to steal one thing from his brother per hour. His record thus far was five in a row, and he was working towards a sixth when the blubbery clot stole away from their home around noon. He’d done this the past several days and Sherlock had first suspected that the prat was sneaking cigarettes, but there was more to it than that.
The insufferable had oaf found his own, personal passage to another world. A wondrously impossible city of bridges and swordsmen and pirates.
So, when Mycroft went, Sherlock followed. The problem, however, was this: he didn’t seek out adventure or investigate the myriad of subtle differences that simply had to exist between that world and this.
When Mycroft had discovered another world, of course he found the dullest thing imaginable.
Of course he’d decided to be a banker.