Fic: Puh for Picasso
Jan. 30th, 2013 01:08 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
butterflyweb.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
221b_recsTitle: Puh for Picasso
Author: nauticus
Pairing: Gen
Length: 5045
Rating: G
Warnings: none
Verse: Sherlock BBC
Author's summary: Their parents oftentimes think that Sherlock can't understand them, but Mycroft knows differently. Sometimes words aren't necessary.
Reccer's comments: This may very well be one of the most heart-wrenching and bittersweet fics I've read in Sherlock fandom, only to be topped by it's WIP sequel. Mycroft as the center of Sherlock's world when they were boys is my head-canon like burning and nauticus's interpretation of that relationship is beautiful and painful at the same time. The author does a fantastic job with Mycroft's voice--he sounds every inch a brilliant child, and the seeds of his duty to and concern for Sherlock are planted deep, as well as the hint of desire for the control he'll one day be able to command. As someone with a physically disabled close relative, I've seen how ugly a thing ableism is, and nauticus wields the blade of it deftly and with compassion and I could just go on about this for days. I highly suggest reading the unfinished sequel, 2+2=5, but be warned, it takes the pieces of your heart that this fic tapes back together and stomps all over them again.
Sherlock isn't right outside the door like Mycroft thought he might be. Instead, he finds his little brother sitting on the bottom step of the staircase, hanging onto the baluster and gnawing on his shirt collar. His eyes are red and his nose is running, not having calmed down quite yet. He bursts into tears again the second he notices Mycroft standing before him.
Sometimes, he cries for attention, Mycroft knows, but this isn’t one of those times.
"Are you all right, tootsie?" he asks quietly.
It's obvious that Sherlock is very much not all right, and Mycroft doesn't blame him. Their father's spankings are meant to make a point, and Sherlock is so very small that it doesn't take much.
Sherlock signs "mother" and "please" frantically.
"You can't… You can't see her right now. She's talking to Father."
Mycroft knows better than to interrupt their parents while they're in the process of having an argument, and even though Sherlock cries harder and he repeats the signs again and again, he knows he can't risk getting them into more trouble. Sherlock being in the middle of a meltdown is sure to not end well, and it's more for Sherlock's sake than his own that he decides to distract him from what he wants.
"I'm reading about whaling," Mycroft says, scooping Sherlock up and holding him on his hip.
He's finally tall enough to hold Sherlock the way their mother does, and Sherlock clings to him with all his strength, pressing his wet eyes into Mycroft's shoulder.
Author: nauticus
Pairing: Gen
Length: 5045
Rating: G
Warnings: none
Verse: Sherlock BBC
Author's summary: Their parents oftentimes think that Sherlock can't understand them, but Mycroft knows differently. Sometimes words aren't necessary.
Reccer's comments: This may very well be one of the most heart-wrenching and bittersweet fics I've read in Sherlock fandom, only to be topped by it's WIP sequel. Mycroft as the center of Sherlock's world when they were boys is my head-canon like burning and nauticus's interpretation of that relationship is beautiful and painful at the same time. The author does a fantastic job with Mycroft's voice--he sounds every inch a brilliant child, and the seeds of his duty to and concern for Sherlock are planted deep, as well as the hint of desire for the control he'll one day be able to command. As someone with a physically disabled close relative, I've seen how ugly a thing ableism is, and nauticus wields the blade of it deftly and with compassion and I could just go on about this for days. I highly suggest reading the unfinished sequel, 2+2=5, but be warned, it takes the pieces of your heart that this fic tapes back together and stomps all over them again.
Sherlock isn't right outside the door like Mycroft thought he might be. Instead, he finds his little brother sitting on the bottom step of the staircase, hanging onto the baluster and gnawing on his shirt collar. His eyes are red and his nose is running, not having calmed down quite yet. He bursts into tears again the second he notices Mycroft standing before him.
Sometimes, he cries for attention, Mycroft knows, but this isn’t one of those times.
"Are you all right, tootsie?" he asks quietly.
It's obvious that Sherlock is very much not all right, and Mycroft doesn't blame him. Their father's spankings are meant to make a point, and Sherlock is so very small that it doesn't take much.
Sherlock signs "mother" and "please" frantically.
"You can't… You can't see her right now. She's talking to Father."
Mycroft knows better than to interrupt their parents while they're in the process of having an argument, and even though Sherlock cries harder and he repeats the signs again and again, he knows he can't risk getting them into more trouble. Sherlock being in the middle of a meltdown is sure to not end well, and it's more for Sherlock's sake than his own that he decides to distract him from what he wants.
"I'm reading about whaling," Mycroft says, scooping Sherlock up and holding him on his hip.
He's finally tall enough to hold Sherlock the way their mother does, and Sherlock clings to him with all his strength, pressing his wet eyes into Mycroft's shoulder.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2013-01-30 04:41 pm (UTC)