cake

hi you sent this on Christmas and it is now way past Christmas and this lil guy is def not good but I will singlehandedly revive fatlock and bring it to its former glory

~~~

It is generally accepted that one tends to pile on the pounds over the holidays. Between big feasts with family, receiving gifts of chocolates and delicious candies and sticking inside as much as possible to avoid the cold, it is impossible to stay thin. Mycroft Holmes especially found difficulty with this, as he had a doting husband who found any opportunity to feed him something sweet.

There’d be afternoons where Mycroft would get back to his office after four straight hours of meetings to find a neatly wrapped package on his desk, filled to the brim with decorated cookies and cakes. A note would accompany it, sloppy words declaring his love for Mycroft and signed with a ‘G’. Despite the sheer amount of treats shoved in the box, the elder Holmes would always manage to eat every crumb. No pastry was safe in the presence of Mycroft Holmes and Greg certainly knew that. The man definitely didn’t seem to mind it when his husband returned home from the office, suit looking a bit tighter than it did when he left in the morning.

Of course at home there were more treats waiting for him. It seemed everyday Gregory came home with a tin box full of cookies or chocolates, insisting that someone at the Yard had given it to him, even though they knew he wasn’t too big on sweets. Usually they’d sit together, then, and share the box after dinner with Mycroft eating the majority. His sweet tooth was insatiable and his dear husband had no issue feeding it.

Come January, every set of trousers he owned were snug or didn’t fit at all. His tailor, Sebastian, always had a very busy first week of the new year as he set out to make Mycroft a whole new wardrobe. His belly - where the weight went most - swallowed up more of his lap than it did in November. His cheeks fuller, double chin a bit more prominent. Even his arms would get softer, filling out the sleeves of his shirt more and more.

ugh why does my internet connection gotta be so poopy tho

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!

You both like parentlock, kidlock, and femlock.

You: (( Royal AU; can be Princess Sherlock! )) A sigh escaped his throat before he could stop it, his eyes looking down at his little brother, huffing and grumbling besides him. “You need to stay still, Sherlock,” he scolded lightly, his hand resting on the little boy’s shoulder as they got their royal portrait done. He was a little impressed, if he was being honest, with how long Sherlock had lasted without issue. Now the boy was getting cranky, likely hungry too. A new portrait needed to be done after the unfortunate and sudden death of the beloved King and Queen, the boys’ parents. Now that Mycroft was king (at the young age of seventeen), he needed to rule their large kingdom /and/ raise his little brother. It was a lot of stress on the ginger-haired boy but he usually didn’t allow it to show. Usually. “Stop fidgeting.”

Stranger: (Oh, princess Sherlock!!)

You: (( i was hoping youd say that! :)

Stranger: Sherlock moaned underneath her breath, already wanting to leave the very spot. The dress was itchy, it was all too heavy and she preferred outdoors more than this boring sitting around. She was fine with the boring etiquette lessons and whatnot, but she absolutely despised royal portraits. She had twice before posed for ones, and that indeed had been more than plenty for her tastes. "I want sweets," she demanded as clearly as she ever could, some of her words slurring due to her sticking her tongue out at the painter when he wasn't looking. "Why is this taking so long? I want to go," she demanded now, tugging at the dress with more force.

You: Mycroft gave a little eye-roll in his sister's direction, moving his hand to rub her narrow back slowly. The last thing they needed was for her to throw a tantrum, which would make him follow. "So do I, but we need to wait." He was very stressed, therefore very hungry and desired to stuff his face full of food. It explained his large waist that was only growing, much to his displeasure. "He's a slow painter," the boy murmured to his little sister, his posture beginning to slump from how long they were standing. "He should be done soon, I imagine."

Stranger: "He better be ready soon, or I shall bite him," Sherlock replied, narrowing her eyes for a moment. Then, with pure childlike innocence, she looked up to her older brother. "Could we eat him for dinner?" She asked, which indeed did make the man paint along the last spots that required work. Sherlock sat still for that time, but as soon as the man lowered the pencil, she hopped up and began to tug at the dress. "I want this off, now. I want food. Why do people make us go hungry?" She mostly spoke to herself, being quite prone to that and to having little fits. The servants just said that she was a little brat, though. Not that she ever head them mention it. "Mycroft! I want to eat!"

You: "No biting," The boy tutted lightly, rather used to his little sister's behavior. They were rather close, since they had mostly no one but each other. "No. No cannibalism in the kingdom. Besides, he's got very little meat on him. Too much work for so little food." he said with a small smirk, just loud enough for the painter to hear. After all, he was still a seventeen year old boy. Once the man lowered his pencil, Mycroft gave a sigh of relief. "You can't eat in the dress. Go change." he said, walking to the painter to see the painting and looking with great distaste. "You did not need to accentuate my girth as much as you did. These are meant to be flattering." He huffed, though the portrait was quite accurate.

Stranger: "But my sir, I was instructed to pain as accurate painting as possible," the man said, bowing his head as a flurry of purple flashed by him, as Sherlock ran from the room. The young princess was used to dresses, and she made do with it. Many a dress she had ruined during her wild, rambunctious games. But that was acceptable. The dresses just kept on piling in. She rushed her way through the hallways, reaching her own room quickly. After that, she practically threw her current dress away to tug on another, and her attire was instantly tidied up by the servants. Back in the throne room, the painter looked up to the young king. "Young princess was a harder character to immortalize. She... She moved quite a bit."

You: Mycroft sighed a little, looking at his wide middle painted on the canvas. "I'm really not that large," he insisted, mostly to himself as he looked it over. "People will start calling me Mycroft the Fat," he grumbled, adjusting the belt that his belly hung over. "But I suppose it'll do. You've got the Princess's face quite accurate for how much she moved." he commented, giving a nod. "Pay him and have it framed for the court room. I'm getting dressed. Have someone make the Princess and I something to eat. Preferably cake," he said, walking out of the room to go change.

Stranger: Sherlock was right in the hallways again. She was running up and down them, attempting to slide as far as she could. Of course she ended up falling onto her face a several times. All she had to do, was to wait for her brother to get ready so they could eat. Oh, how hungry she was! All those hours of sitting still, and just watching forward. She never wanted to be so still again. So, she would never marry a future king. That was for sure. She sat on the floor outside of her brother's room, starting to think about marriage. And then, when her round brother indeed did exit the room, she looked up to him. "Will I have to marry someone?"

You: Mycroft was helped with getting out of his robes, getting into something far more comfortable and less middle-squeezing. "Thank you," he told the woman who helped him, opening the door and peering down at the girl. "Princesses don't sit on floors," he tutted, bending down to pick her up and keep her in his arms. No one was around to scold them about if it was proper for a King to pick up a Princess in such a fashion, he he didn't much care. "If we need to become allies with a kingdom, perhaps," he said, carrying her off to the kitchens for food. "If not, then no."

Stranger: "What an idiotic idea," the young girl said, rather thin for her age. She ate what she felt that she needed to, unlike her brother. She even sometimes tinkered with his foods, so he'd stop eating. It usually resulted in him calling for a new meal, though. "There are less things that a Queen can do, than a princess can. I'd rather stay as a princess, than you very much," Sherlock pointed out, shaking her head. She had heard, that Queens just made babies and so forth! In her mind, she had no sense for that. Besides, he didn't want any princes knocking on her chamber door. "It's utter rubbish, it truly is."

You: The young King carried her, slowly making their way to the kitchens. "Love is the strongest bond. I'd rather not ship you off to an unknown land, though, so I'll try my very hardest to keep you here with me. You're more useful that way anyway." Mycroft, though young, was very, very intelligent and used it for the greater good of their kingdom. "It depends on where the Queen or the Princess is," he commented. "Perhaps a bit, but keep that opinion between us, yes?" He asked, placing her at the table before sitting next to her. "What would you like to eat?"

Stranger: Sherlock scoffed at her brother. "Even worse! I'd have to leave home, just because some idiot of a prince wants to marry me. May I reject them as they come?" She asked from her brother, before kicking her feet. She settled onto the chair in relative ease, although she soon was tinkering with the first thing she could reach - a fork. She pushed it against the grain of the table, while thinking it through. "Just something that fills my stomach. If it's not good, I'll have them boil up the painter. He was a bore," she spoke without even deeming her words harmful enough to censor. "And... Will I ever be a Queen, I shall be a Queen that rules the kingdom."

You: Mycroft's eyes focused on the girl's listening to her speak. "You may, unless it's necessary for you to be kind to them, sister," he said, watching as the servants began bringing in platefuls of food, well aware of the young king's huge appetite. It was already larger than the king's previously and Mycroft was half his age. "We have more than enough food. No need to eat the painter." he commented, already beginning to fill up his plate full of food. "If I die young you'll get to be Queen, sister. Then you can rule."

Stranger: Sherlock looked at the way her brother filled up the plate, and just tilted her head to the side. It was not to be forgotten, that she had been blessed with a sharp wit as well. "Keep up with that, and you'll be dead quite young indeed," she replied, taking some foods to her own plate. She munched what she pleased, tasting some and just thrusting it aside after a few bites - too dry, too dull, she'd say. But she usually got her stomach full, so that was what mattered the most. "So, perhaps I do not have to move away from this kingdom to rule after all. Keep up with that pigging," she joked, sinking her teeth into a deliciously baked potato.

You: Mycroft's eyes narrowed slightly as he continued to add food to his plate, despite supper being in a few hours. He wasn't a drunk like some kings, or took whores to his bedroom each night like others. He just liked food and eating food. It would kill him, he knew, but there was little he did about it. "You ought to start preparing, then," he said with an eye-roll, adding more potatoes to his plate as he stuffed his face. "You'd need a husband, however. If there's no heir, people get anxious and try to take the throne."

Stranger: "But I would be the one to carry the child, wouldn't I? Now, that on its own doesn't sound like a nice idea," she replied, before looking towards the servants. "Perhaps I should have one of the knights as my husband. They seem to know how to have fun," Sherlock suggested, sometimes just not caring about what was proper and what not. Perhaps she wasn't the right person to rule a kingdom, really. She was far too selfish for that. And uncaring. She bit into some tasty, long-cooked beef and smiled. It seemed to melt in her mouth, it really did! "Why aren't you making any heirs? Why would it have to be me?"

You: Mycroft nodded, watching as the servants took the empty plates that he cleared. "No knights. Knights are dirty." he insisted, taking another big bite of his food and a sip of his water. "You can have a prince from far away lands be your husband. You'd need to keep him in check, of course. Men get restless and need to be reminded of their place." The boy said, clearly having taken his mother's advice to share with the girl. At the last question, he frowned a little. "I don't want any." The truth was that he had such little interest in women that he couldn't bear to stay with one. He knew they'd be pushing for him to marry, however, something he wasn't fond of.

Stranger: "You're being very unfair. Soon the people will get suspicious of you not having an heir, and..." Sherlock paused, her eyes widening. Her smile only widened, and she pushed her plate forward to run towards the small window in the kitchen. She peered out, nodding eagerly. "I knew I'd recognize that sound! It's Lady Genevieve!" The young lass happily outed, looking towards the cart. She did enjoy having that lady visit, for then she could just talk and talk, without being reminded of her place as the young Princess. She could talk about adventures, about daring sword fights and even dragons! And Lady Genevieve would listen, and occasionally braid her long dark curls. "You can stay here and eat, Fatty the King! I have new stories to tell her, and maybe she brought me presents again!"

You: Mycroft frowned deeply as the girl began to deduce, not wanting her to say it aloud where people were around. His eyes widened slightly as he too heard her, childish glee filling his round, chubby face before he could stop it. He loved the woman too, always having looked up to her. She taught him the most wonderful things and how to be a king. Realization hit him soon, however, the boy knowing that he was too old to go running after her, wanting her to tell him her wonderful stories. Instead, he just sat at the table, adding more food to his plate. "Don't be rude," he said, picking at the food on his plate.

Stranger: Sherlock scoffed from her spot, and soon the young Princess was running down the hallways again. It was something that wasn't exactly allowed, but not many dared to complain to her. More than once, she had made unpleasant surprises for those who had talked against her. And now they just watched her go through the hallways to meet their visitor. And of course, as soon as she could, she was talking about how much fatter Mycroft was, and how she'd have to marry a prince at some point, just because Mycroft was being an idiot and not having an heir. Well, she was quite the speedy talker when she got into that mood. And she required almost constant attention. She was a difficult child, and one would think that Mycroft would have his hands full with her. But no, his hands were filled with an assortment of meats and cheeses.

You: Mycroft watched her run away before shoving more food into his face, calling for a chocolate cake to be brought out for himself. A emotional eater he was indeed. Lady Genevieve smiled beautifully as the little princess came to her, running her fingers through her gorgeous hair lovingly. They were brought to a sitting room where they could sit and speak, the lady looking elegant as they did so. She listened to the girl and her troubles, adding her input here or there on occasion when it was needed. Eventually, she had finished braiding her long, curly, brown hair, giving her a smile. "It seems like you have quite a lot on your plate, dear."

Stranger: "Well, as much as I have on my plate, Mycroft has even more! He keeps on eating and eating! He's getting fatter than the pigs before slaughter," the young girl was eager to rant, before she rested her head on the lap of the elegant woman. She curled up there, and for a moment that energy dissipated. In all honestly, she was terribly alone. Instead of Lady Genevieve, this was what her mother did. Never did Sherlock have to go without someone listening to her, for her mother was always there. Now, she was quite alone. Especially when Mycroft was tending to his royal duties. The castle was large, and for one girl it was like an adventure of its own. Reaching up to her face, Sherlock rubbed a hand over her eyes and just sighed. "I don't like him being the king. I want him to be just my brother again. We can't play anymore. And everyone always tell me what Princesses can't do. Why don't they tell me what I can do?"

You: The lady placed her hand on Sherlock's face, her soft thumb stroking the girl's chubby, puppy-fat filled cheeks gently. "Are you upset that he's gotten so fat?" she asked, usually knowing what was wrong with the girl. She usually knew what was wrong with both of the children and was sure she could get down to the reason of why Mycroft was eating so much almost immediately. And it was very telling that the boy didn't come to see her even though he shockingly wasn't busy (she could tell that they were eating just from the look of the girl). "He still is your brother, but he has more duties now. You can't be so harsh on him." She murmured gently, her tone light and entirely lacking a condescending tone. She did love the girl, after all. "People don't think like that, unfortunately.'

You: *"

Stranger: Sherlock looked up to the woman, her blue eyes just widening. "If he eats more, he'll die all the faster. Then I'd be all on my own," she told the woman, before sniffling a bit. She was almost clingy to those relationships she already had, so to lose two of the most important ones right away had rocked her world in the worst possible way. The girl sighed, sitting up so she could hug the woman. She had the warmth the young girl had missed, and for now she just wanted to have some comfort. "And if he dies, I'll be forced to marry someone because I have to make an heir. But Mycroft said that love is more important. What if I can't fall in love?"

You: Lady Genevieve nodded, listening to the little girl. She was there to make her happy and teach her about how to be a lady. "Ah, I see," she murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I think he'll stop eating so much when he gets a little more used to his jobs. But, I'll speak to him about it, if you would like me to." She would speak to him regardless of if Sherlock wanted her to or not. Her arms went around the thin girl, tucking her under her chin. "You could wait until you find someone you love to make an heir," she murmured, brushing an escaped curl out of her face.

Stranger: "I'd like to have someone fun," Sherlock decided, her eyes shining once more. She cuddled against the woman, taking an advantage of the comfort she was giving to her. She stroked her hand over the soft fabric of the woman's dress, allowing her fingers to get used to the feeling. It would be sufficient enough, when she'd try to remember this conversation, while waiting for her next visit. "And brave, I want him to be brave... And I suppose a handsome man wouldn't be a bad thing," she suddenly said, leaning back to look into the woman's eyes. "That way the heir will look good, and I don't have to avert my gaze all the time."

You: Genevieve smiled and nodded, holding the little girl like she was her own. "Those are all very good qualities, I'd say," she hummed with a very warm and lovely smile, allowing her to feel her beautiful dress. "You'll have a beautiful baby and beautiful husband," she decided, giving her another kiss on the forehead. "Very beautiful indeed." she smiled, giving her a little pat. "Now, if you could go fetch your brother for me. I have gifts for the both of you." she murmured, loosening her arms to let the little Princess go.

Stranger: "Oh, really?" Sherlock outed, her eyes widening in delight. She attempted to spy a look at whatever the woman had brought, but instead she was ushered to fetch her brother. Right after calmly exiting the room, she was running full blast again. Although she was quite light, the loud patter seemed to reach all the crooks and crannies of the castle, they called their home. "Mycroft, Mycroft!" She happily called out, slightly out of breath when she reached the kitchen. "Lady Gen has gifts for you and me. I won't get mine before you come. Now, hurry! We'll have supper soon, you can finish eating then," she ushered him, jumping a bit on the spot.

You: Mycroft was alone at the large table still, looking a little green at the amount of food he managed to shove down his throat. He was picking at the rest of his potatoes, unable to finish it. When Sherlock entered, he turned himself slightly to look at his sister, his middle pressing uncomfortably into the table. "Does she?" he asked, too full to even feel excited. Not that he should have, anyway. Knowing that the girl would end up dragging him out the door, he stood up on his own and allowed the servants to take away his plates, very slowly following after his sister.

Stranger: While Mycroft walked a few lengths, it seemed like Sherlock had buzzed the same amount back and forth a several times. She was excited, as one should expect. Gifts were something she adored, and to get some was only enough to make her buzz like a bee on a warm summer's day. It took them longer than it took for her to just normally walk the way, but Sherlock didn't care. Running up and down the hallway, she just told Mycroft about what she talked with Lady Genevieve, and eventually they reached the room the woman was waiting in. Sherlock ran over, climbing onto the same seat as her. "We're here now, so... The gifts! I'd like to see them."

You: Mycroft slowly made his way after the little princess, entering the room and nodding to the lady who bowed the second she heard his steps. Her eyes met his and dusted over his engorged frame before she masked it with a smile, the boy, now terribly embarrassed, giving another nod. He, typically, sat away from the women, not wanting to intrude. "Don't be rude, Sherlock," the boy scolded weakly, leaning back in his chair. Genevieve waved her hand and handed over the gorgeously wrapped gifts to each child, the boxes containing dresses for Sherlock and robes for Mycroft. When Mycroft opened his, his face paled, it being so very obvious that they wouldn't fit. Still he smiled graciously, placing them back in the box with a thank-you.

Stranger: "Oh," Sherlock outed, ignoring Mycroft's scolding. Instead, she just unwrapped her gift, and looked at the dresses closely. "I like them very much, Genny!" She said happily, making a few of the servants out some protests at the name she used. But as if the young Princess cared. She had a rulebook of her own, and if she wanted to roll herself into the hallway carpet, then she very well could do that. Getting out of it was just a bit harder. She placed the dresses back to the box, and just sat back to look around the room. "In what age do people get married?" She asked, before her frown deepened. She looked over to her brother, seemingly scandalized. "How old am I?" She questioned, eyes wide with sudden confusion.

You: Mycroft was actually rather distraught as he stared at the robes, absolutely adoring them. They were so beautiful, a lovely green that would compliment his hair so nicely. They just wouldn't fit. His brow furrowed as he stared at them, not noticing how much emotion was on his young face. "It depends on the person, Sherlock," the lady murmured, standing up. "You're eleven," she then said, going to the King to press a kiss on his temple. "I'll have a seamstress see them," she said softly into his ear, which she received a nod for, his shoulders still slumped. After that, she sat back down, the boy straightening himself out a bit. "You're not old enough to get married, Sherlock," he said, rubbing his hand against the fabric of the chair he was in childishly.

You: (( brb real fast sorry ))

Stranger: (Okay!)

You: (( back

Stranger: Sherlock wasn't too fond of Lady Genevieve moving from the chair, so she just slumped herself down to the floor. Kicking her legs up into the air, she just thought quietly about it. "Eleven. I'm happy that I don't have to get married yet. I suppose that I should start looking for handsome men already, though, given the fact that there aren't many that are fun too," she told Mycroft, before standing up to run to the window. It wasn't odd to see her jumping from a spot to spot, and now she just wanted to peer outside, just to see something happening. One of the servants moved over to adjust her dress appropriately, before grasping at the gifts and carrying them to the children's rooms. "Let's find you someone to marry, Mycroft. Maybe she'll eat just as much as you do," the girl chirped, her eyes looking over the city.

You: The Lady sat back down in her original seat when Sherlock began to slump on the floor, having expected as much. Sherlock always seemed to get rather upset whenever the woman tended to her older brother. She knew well enough that both children were rather alone in life (now especially), but Sherlock acted like she needed the attention more. Mycroft just put on a facade that he was indifferent to it all. The woman folded her hands in her lap as Mycroft slumped a little, not rising to the bait. "How was your trip, Lady Genevieve?" he asked, listening as she answered.

Stranger: Sherlock hated to be ignored. This was a moment that it was occurring. She moved from the window, attempting to get the attention of the two to the best of her abilities. But that didn't seem to work. They just talked about the trip, all same things that Sherlock had already heard. The girl frowned deeply, before she trudged out form the room. She'd try the courtyard, to see if there was something she could do there. People surely would pay her some mind, especially when she was in one of her favorite dresses. The young Princess also loved it, when people went through the whole castle to find her, only to have her wander back inside with hay poking from her hair, after a small adventure in the stables.

You: The two spoke mindlessly as the girl slipped out of the room. Once Sherlock left, Genevieve beckoned the young king closer to her, which he obeyed and sat near her. She then wrapped her arms around his set of very broad shoulders to hold and cradle him. Shockingly, the boy actually cried into her, the stress of everything finally leaving him. It was hard being King. She cooed and rubbed his chubby back until he could properly breathe again and told him stories and advice until he felt better. Finally then did they realize that the little Princess wasn't anywhere near, panic going through the boy.

Stranger: Indeed Sherlock wasn't anywhere near. She was once again in the courtyard, going through all the possible little holes and nooks to find surprises to her day. It was an annoyingly quiet day, and there were no people ready to bow to her, or to talk with her. She went up to the higher levels of the stables and just rolled around in the hay with the kittens, helping the stable boy by kicking some down into a large pile. Then, she dropped herself down. A loud thud frightened the few horses that were kept inside, and soon Sherlock rolled from the pile with a groan. Some of her decisions weren't the wisest, really. She was just ready to go to shocking lengths to have attention, or excitement. To be honest, she preferred the scent of the stables to the coldness of the castle.

You: Naturally, the first thing Mycroft did was send everyone out looking for her, horrified that she was kidnapped or killed or somehow in danger. The lady was there besides him, rubbing his back and assuring him that it was alright, how the little Princess did it very frequently and not to worry since he'd give himself a heart attack or something equally as horrible. Eventually she was found by a tall, stern looking knight, the man extending out a hand to help her up. "Your Royal Highness," he greeted with a bow, looking at her. "Your brother is worried sick about you."

Stranger: Sherlock was still laying on her back in the hay, ready to just die due to being winded out. She wasn't exactly pleased, when she heard a pair of heavy boots stop by her. Brushing her hair and some hay from her eyes, she looked up to the man and her eyes widened. "But I was just outside," the girl complained, before reaching for the hand. When she was helped up, she coughed slightly before tilting her head. "Your mannerisms are weak. I do expect for everyone to introduce themselves when they are in my presence," she complained, not even bothering to clean herself up. She'd give her servants something to do.

You: The knight frowned slightly, but was used to the Princess's behavior. "Sir Rodrick Phelps, Your Royal Highness. A pleasure," he said with another bow, looking huge compared to the little Princess. The knight backed up to allow her to walk, prepared to guard her at all costs. As was his duty. Mostly.

Stranger: "What a stupid name," Sherlock simply said, before she started to make her way out from the stables. As soon as that had happened, she was running across the courtyard, leaving the knight to the dust that was only left behind. Sherlock indeed wasn't the most thoughtful Princess, but then again. Neither of the members of the royal family were 'normal'. Sherlock was just less inclined to keep up appearances. She eventually ended up back in the room from which she disappeared from, only to sit down. "I jumped from the hay attic!" She outed, smiling widely. "Sir Rodrick Phelps saved me!"

You: The knight gave a little sigh as the young Princess ran from him, not minding it all too much. At least, he thought, she was safe. That was really all that mattered. Mycroft seemed to calm considerably as he saw his little sister, the lady giving him a little smile. "She's safe," she said, squeezing the boy's hand as he slumped against the sofa. "Don't do that again, Sherlock," he scolded, shaking his head. "Sir Rodrick Phelps?" he asked, looking to his regent and nodding. The man left the room, obviously going to give the knight a token of appreciation.

Stranger: "I should have kicked more hay down, because I lost all my breath when I hit the floor," the young Princess informed Lady Genevieve and Mycroft, starting to tug the hay from her hair. She made a small pile of them to the middle of the floor, before sighing and rolling to lay on her back. Already, she was bored. There was so little to do, when she didn't have classes to attend to. "Why were you even so worried, Mycroft? I was outside, the castle is so dull. I needed the sun, the brightness," she said, looking over to the two. "Sir Rodrick Phelps was handsome. He's fairly tall too."

You: Mycroft rubbed his face, the stress he was under obvious in his bones. The woman rubbed his back again, he looking up at his little sister. "You didn't injure yourself, did you?" he asked, shaking his head as he looked her over. It didn't seem like she did, thankfully. "It's dangerous for you to be out without someone with you, Sherlock," he scolded, watching her closely. "Sir Rodrick Phelps is an adult male who's likely thirty years older than you. Yes, there's been bigger age-gaps but those marriages do not work out."

Stranger: Sherlock looked over, frowning deeply. "Stop worrying over me, Mycroft. If I had the servant with me, she'd make me go to the pond and just sit down on the grass instead of doing anything. I do prefer being able to enjoy my days, and do something with myself," she said, standing up. She walked to the two of them, climbing up to sit on her brother's lap so she could see the both of them. "He truly is much older than I am. Almost three times as old. Perhaps I could choose much better. He wasn't too good with his manners. I had to remind him to introduce himself," she told Mycroft, as if it was the worst thing a man could do. "You know, Croft. You really should have a nap. You look rather tired."

You: Mycroft gave a little sigh. "Not all servants make you do that." he said, allowing the girl to push him back so she could fit on his lap, sharing it with his tummy. "You two would have something in common, at least. You're both lacking manners." he teased, perhaps a small, not very obvious smile on his round face as his arms settled around the small princess. "I would, but dinner is soon and then I need to fill some papers out, I fear. I'll be fine, however. It's only a few hours." he said, leaning back on the comfortable chair with his little sister close.

Stranger: Sherlock scoffed at him, shaking her head. "But he is way too old, you said that yourself! I'll wait until I am as old as you, and then I shall see if anyone strikes my fancy. You just must promise me that you'll stay alive for as long as possible. It would be very unfortunate and saddening to see you leave me as well," she told her brother, before looking around the room. She just wanted to see, if anything had changed while she was away for her fun and games. Soon, she'd most likely run off again when Mycroft would go to work. Or she'd have to sit back and talk about how to address people. Stupid, stupid servants.  (Should we skip to something at some point?)

You: (( sure! how far along would you like to go? ))

Stranger: ( I really don't know. Would it be too far of a jump to actually make Sherlock into a teenager, who still causes Mycroft extra stress?)

You: (( no no no. i was actually just thinking the same thing. how old would you like to make her? ))

Stranger: (I don't know, sixteen, seventeen? Whichever suits you the best, because I want you to keep Mycroft in the form you find it most relaxing and fun to write.)

You: (( yeah no that'd be perfect! mycroft would be like early twenties and that's fine :) what should we make them do? ))

Stranger: (Hmm, perhaps Sherlock has disappeared once more, and caused yet another search?)

Stranger: (Oh, right when Mycroft has important guests over?)

You: (( oh lovely. i was gonna make him still have the stress issues since he's still actually really young and all. should you start or i?

Stranger: (I can start!)

Stranger: Despite the years flew by, Sherlock never really calmed down. She ran less along the hallways, but she still did have her fair share of adventures throughout the day. At least once a day she went outside to the stables, and sometimes she even went so far as to steal a horse for a few moments. After that one time that one knight's horse was released into the wilderness due to that, she had to cut back on such actions. Still, the Princess found something so pleasing in pulling on a fancy dress, and just running through the yard into the closest pile of hay. That was it, she loved hay. She lowed to lay on it, to sniff it, to throw it to the horses. Needless to say, she usually ran just there. Early one morning, she had disappeared from her room again, just on the day that she too was meant to represent their kingdom. And this time, she had once again nicked a horse for a while, trying her best to learn to ride without a saddle - she felt like her rear end had bruises on top of bruises.

You: Mycroft, like his sister, stayed mostly the same. He still ate away his stress (some had dubbed him as 'Mycroft the Fat'), slept very little and put work first. Sometimes he'd be seen joking with his little sister, the girl usually making him do so after it had been a particularly difficult day (it kept his mind off of eating and he could no longer afford to put on weight). So it was no surprise when a servant came to him to whisper in his ear about the Princess missing, and yes they changed the stables and there was a horse missing. Mycroft nearly choked on his cake when he was told (directly after, of course) that his important guests would be arriving within an hour and they needed to get the Princess dressed. He sent people out to search for her, actually taking one of the horses himself (the biggest, and strongest they had) to find her himself.

Stranger: Sherlock hoisted herself onto the horse once more, cursing herself to the lowest pit of hell for taking the one with the track record of bucking the most men down. The young woman did have her dress hoisted up to her thighs, a sight not to be seen by anybody but herself and her servants. Yet, she couldn't bring herself to care. These moments were her own, and full of freedom. The castle was filled with rules. Here, the only rule was that she shouldn't let go of the horse. After some battle, she soon was galloping in a large circle with the horse, laughing softly, before she realised just what she saw in the distance. Oh, bugger. Her damned brother. She flung one leg over the horse, sitting sideways and tugging her dress down. She brushed down her messy, curly hair and just tried to get he horse to the side of the field so Mycroft hopefully wouldn't see.

You: Of course, Mycroft saw her before he saw him, frowning very deeply. He squeezed his legs for the creature to go faster, leaning forward slightly. This was far easier when he was younger and thinner, he decided. The horse ran to Sherlock, Mycroft looking very unhappy on top of the huge creature. "Sherlock," he hissed, very angry. "Do you have any idea what day it is?" he asked through clenched teeth, his shoulders tense and solid. "I'm sure you do and you just don't care. You don't care about what happens to this bloody kingdom, Sherlock Holmes."

Stranger: Sherlock looked at her brother, tilting her head to the side. "It's the day I finally learned to ride without a saddle?" She innocently asked, before rolling her eyes at him. "You can't expect me to be a part of every little meeting? Surely you could do it without me," the Princess drawled, ushering the horse to trot back towards the castle grounds. "Just let me go into my room, and I shall be ready for the thing anyway? Who was it that was coming to visit? Hopefully someone who'll do something about that sweat on your forehead," she muttered to herself, her hands tightly gripping at the horses mane. She sighed, and in silence she continued the rest of the way. She slid down from the horse, letting the stable boy take it, before brushing off her dress.

You: A large part of him wanted to ride ahead of her and leave her in the forest, allowing her to do whatever she pleased. She did nothing but brought trouble to him and it was really starting to wear him down. Everything was. He was already beginning to get dizzy, a headache forming as they traveled back. He had been visiting the doctor of the castle, but there was little that could have been done. He just would give him some herbs (which didn't help) and insisted that he rested. Sighing, the man rode back with his sister, taking a moment to clear his head before getting off of the horse. He nearly fell, his headache turning into a migraine, but stood on his two feet alone despite the assistance he was getting offered.

Stranger: Sherlock looked over to Mycroft, straightening her back. "I suggest you eat less of the baked delicacies, and concentrate on those meals that the doctor has deemed good for us," she informed her brother, before ignoring the fussing servant and moving to her own bed chambers. In the shortest of time, a few servants scrubbed her clean and got out one of her most guarded dresses - given to her by Lady Genevieve of course. When in it, Sherlock felt like she reminded herself of her Mother. A good thing to feel, she supposed. The younger one of the two just sat still as she waited to be called into the other room, picking at her dress while she listened. She didn't even think she remembered who it was, that was coming.

You: Mycroft didn't even hear his sister's words, the ringing in his ears too loud. His knees buckled from the pain, several men being the only ones keeping him from falling in the dirt and poo. He insisted he was fine, typically, the migraine beginning to fade after a few moments. He began walking, two men at his side to ensure that he made it into the castle and to his room where he was dressed and given more herbs. Eventually he came out, his face a little flushed as a man briefed him on who was who and why they were coming. A treaty, obviously. Since they weren't there yet, Mycroft sat down next to his sister, giving himself a moment to gather his wits.

Stranger: Sherlock sat still, just looking into mid-distance. She knew Mycroft wouldn't keep his promise. With the way he was going, he'd be dead in the matter of years. Yet another member of her family would leave her, and she'd be thrust into actions larger than her. More than she had ever thought of. The older she grew, she less she wanted to be a Queen. And how things were going, it seemed like she'd be exactly that sooner or later. "I've decided that this castle won't see cakes for the next year. Only the visitors of most importance are offered some. Not you, nor me," she slowly said, feeling at the fine fabric of her dress.

You: Mycroft was rubbing at his temples, eyes shut as he set the time aside to focus on what was important. He knew how it would go. How it went each time. Their kingdom was at a great advantage and had many others looking for their protection and trade. Mycroft needed to decide on who he would be allies with and who he wouldn't. He had spent the entire day before deciding that, having gotten no sleep in exchange for his thoughts. Sherlock's voice brought him out of those thoughts exactly, his eyes opening and head moving to look at her. His brows rose as he registered what she said, the young King giving a shake of his head. "No." He said, simply, leaning back. "That will not solve anything."

Stranger: "Yes, it will. You shall eat better and sleep more. Perhaps you should attempt to move on an about as well," the young woman replied with a deep frown, already setting her foot down on that. It was the decision she was making, and she had been nice! She had excluded herself from the cakes as well. She stood up to move to the windows of the large room, just peering outside at the courtyard. Her eyes followed the people working, the people with such simple lives. In a way, she envied them. But at the same time, she preferred to remain here. It was quite the conundrum! "From which kingdom are these visitors from? And will they stay with us for long?"

You: "My health is not more important than the kingdom's well-being, Sherlock. I can't sleep more while there's things that need to be done. Nor do I have time to 'move on about'." The man insisted, having no good reason for his consumption of cakes and sweets. Everyone knew of his stress-issues but that was all. He thought that he needed them, at least. "One in the north," he said, crossing one leg over the other as he leaned back. "Their son is a true twat," he commented, knowing they were alone. "I suggest you stay by me, if you could. He might attempt to /seduce/ you and you can't be rude to them."

Stranger: Sherlock rolled her eyes slightly, peering out to look at the Captain of the guard move on and about with his horse, checking at the other guards. "I shall do my best, but I cannot make such promises. Perhaps one of the statues accidentally will fall over him and crack his head open?" She managed to ask, smiling as she saw the man slide from his horse and take it to the stable boy. She turned around, the smile slowly fading away. "You did not tell me how long they'll be staying. I shall camp in the woods, if they stay overnight," she decided instantly.

You: Mycroft rubbed his face, wishing for a nap that very moment. "You've always been very poor at planning murders, sister. Someone will catch you." he insisted, watching her peer out the window with interest. He knew exactly who she was looking at and decided not to comment. It was for another time when they were alone and bonding, clearly. "Overnight. You may stay in my chamber if you're not comfortable with him so close to yours. I assure you that I won't let anything happen to you."

Stranger: Sherlock tried to sneak one more peek outside, before she had to look over to her brother again. "I think I'll find a safe place for slumber, dear brother of mine. Now, the guests are coming and I figure you should stand stall and proud," she mused, brushing one unruly curl behind her ear. Just in time, that was, because soon the door burst open as a short king of taut nature walked almost humorously long steps in. "Greetings, greetings," was what he said, moving over to Mycroft instantly.

You: "A safe place that is inside. Not out." The man reminded, it taking a moment for him to register of what his sister had said to him. He stood up quickly, his knees disagreeing with him but he ignored it. "A pleasure it is to finally meet you." Mycroft said immediately, discreetly lowering his shoulders in an attempt not to seem so very tall (though he wanted to be imposing, it could be threatening if he seemed so big). "Welcome, Your Majesty, to England. May I introduce you to my sister, Princess Sherlock?" he smiled, extending out a hand to guide Sherlock to the short king.

Stranger: "Ah, yes of course. And I am very pleased to be here, your Majesty," the other King replied to the younger one, before his eyes moved over to the other person in the room. His eyes glazed over for a moment, before he grinned at Mycroft. "What a beautiful flower has this garden been granted with," he outed, and Sherlock already wanted to roll her eyes and escape. But the look on her brother's face made her move over and curtsy at their visitors. "It's an honor, your Highness," she replied, and allowed the man to kiss her hand. She almost wiped it clean, when the shorter King of the two stepped back to present his own son. "This is my son, Sven," he said, and for a moment, Sherlock wished to giggle.

Stranger: (Ah, it's super late and I have an exam tomorrow! Do you think we could continue this via email? This has been so much fun, that I've postponed sleeping)

You: (( yes yes yes! i have! mines [email protected] :)

Stranger: (How, that's so very fitting! Mine is [email protected]. I can send you the log right away, and then head to bed.)

Stranger: ( I fear it might be too long for a link, so I'll copy paste it.)

You: (( alright no issue! ill send my reply immediately, since it's not all that late here :)

Stranger: (I'll reply the first moment I can tomorrow! :) And tomorrow evening I can continue without a worry, just have to get that one exam out of the way first.)

Stranger: (Okay, I just sent it. I hope you got it. )

You: (( i just got it! and perfect :) ill talk to you then! this has been a great rp

Stranger: (It indeed has! Have a great day:)

Complete younger!Holmes brothers fluff under the readmore!

tw: mentions of bullying, mentions of body shaming