Mycroft and Mr. and Mrs. Holmes were all seated in the sitting room of the mansion, reading quietly and sipping tea. They did this every night- right after Sherlock was put to bed. This was part of the Holmes' night routine. Mycroft smiled to himself as he turned a page. He knew exactly what was going to happen next.

Sherlock is going to come out of bed now, Mycroft thought.

He looked up at the sound of padding feet. A pajama-clad Sherlock was at his elbow, trying to peer into the book.

"Why aren't you in bed?" Mycroft asked.

Now he'll pout and say he isn't tired.

Sherlock pouted. "I'm not tired!"

Then, Mother will tell him to go back upstairs.

"You never are," Mrs. Holmes said wearily. "Go back upstairs, Sherlock."

After that, he'll ask for a cookie.

"Can I have a cookie?"

"Sherlock," Mr. Holmes declaimed sternly. "You know perfectly well you cannot have a cookie. Go back to bed at once."

He will subsequently ask a random and completely irrelevant question.

"Mummy, why is the sky blue?"

"The sky is not blue right now, it is black. That means it is bedtime, darling. Go upstairs."

Next, he'll ask me to read to him.

"Will you read to me?" Sherlock asked, tapping Mycroft's elbow. Mycroft smiled inwardly.

"Yes. Go upstairs and pick out a book. I'll be right there."

:::

"Have you got a book picked out, Sherlock?" Mycroft asked his little brother as he walked into his room. Sherlock nodded, holding out a large medical text entitled The Cardiovascular System.

Mycroft smiled, took the book, and sat down in the armchair beside Sherlock's bed. Sherlock climbed into his lap. Mycroft opened up the book and started to read.

::

When Mrs. Holmes came up to check on both of them a while later, she was greeted by an astounding sight. Sherlock was settled cozily in Mycroft's lap, Mycroft going over the finer points of the four chambers of the human heart.

Seeing his mother, Mycroft quickly shut the book. Mrs. Holmes smiled proudly.

"He's asleep," Mycroft whispered. "Finally."

"This whole saga does seem to happen rather frequently, doesn't it?" Mrs. Holmes asked quietly. Mycroft smiled as he carefully lifted a sleeping Sherlock off his lap and laid him in his bed, tucking the blanket around the little body.

"Every night, Mother."