Yin Yang

The garden was picturesque. Sherlock huffed and leaned his head against the window. The problem being; he so longed to be a part of the perfect scene but once in it will realise he's presences would have undoubtedly ruined the essence of the sun-warmed grass and the softly breezed flowers as bees continually visited and the whole sense of raw nature. He preferred to witness the scene as an observer, a lonely observer.

A brightly designed truck went along the road in front of the house followed by another. Sherlock frowned attention quickly shifting as he watched the procession of tracks move slowly in a line and then turn down a drive further down the road.

Yes, if he had proceeded into the garden its scene would have indeed been disturbed.

The trucks parked at the property of The Empty House. A house that most thought would remain un-used as it was the most shameful on the street. Distant voices pitching in volume drifted to the young boy's ears as he stretched to try and see the purpose of the arrival.

Neighbours, he thought. Mummy would probably like to learn of this. Leaving the window seat and any need to be debating of intruding the garden, Sherlock headed off with a new purpose in mind.

He found his mother fixing a dress and he quietly padded to stand next to her, watching for a moment the intense focus and thought into what she was doing. Without breaking stride she acknowledged her child.

'Yes Sherlock dear?'

Sherlock cocked his head to the side, following the thread as it broke through the black dress fabric with a sudden burst and was lifted and pulled through. 'People are moving into The Empty House'.

His mother's eyebrows raised; the only change in her stature available. 'How do you know this?' she asked while completing another invisible stitch in the set.

'Three Removal vans parked outside the house and one pulled up in the drive. Clearly they had reached their destination'.

His mother gave a small chuckle of amusement in the factual delivery from her son.

'Oh I see', a small, delicate smile breaking out onto her face, a smile rare to only his mother and youngest son, 'Well this is pleasant news'. She paused to look down affectionately at her son. 'Why don't you keep watch on the house and report back to me on their movements'.

Sherlock gave a small nod and left with the permission to spy, something he would have done even without consent. Besides, no one would know of his presence but he would be unable to share any information without having to explain how he got it. Now with his mother's permission he treated it more like an order then a request, his Captain wanted information which was his duty to supply.

The tree a few paces from the fence of the house provided and excellent advantage position to observe. A car had pulled up on Sherlock's arrival. Two children, a boy about his age and an older sister leaped from the car and instantly began to excitingly explore their new home as their mother called for their help in un-packing and to not get into the removal men's way. The two children were soon under control and were set to work together in un-loading the smaller belongings from the three vans.

Only a mother, Sherlock observed, Dad having left long ago and no longer having any contact with his previous family. Sherlock huffed and relaxed down onto the branch he was laying on in the tree, continuing to observe and deduce from the items the family picked up and delivered from van to home.

The shadows soon began to creep as the setting suns strength waned leaving an eerie glow that settled on everything. Sherlock sat up and climbed down the tree as nothing else could be gained from staying any longer. He walked with the slight cooling breeze to back to his own fence and shifted aside a panel to slip through.

The Holmes property was expanse, a well-kept garden weaving across the green lawn, all heading to the two-storied white house that sat on top of a small rise.

Sherlock entered the back door and immediately ran into fist-closed Mycroft.

'And where have you been?' His brother asked as Sherlock slipped past to look for his Captain.

'Out', he simply replied heading towards the kitchen.

'Mummy sent me to come look for you', his older brother replied clearly agitated by being forced to stop whatever teenage Mycroft thing he had been doing to come find his infuriating little brother.

'Yes, where is she?' Sherlock said more to himself as he entered the dining room. He has to convey his information.

'She's with Father, don't go interrupting them now Sherlock, wait till dinner'. Mycroft warned guiding his brother to the lounge to sit by the fire, although it had been a warm day, the house was relevantly cool and a crackling fire was a welcomed end to the day.

Sherlock sat on the brick hearth, 'Are they shouting?'

'No', Mycroft quickly supplied.

Sherlock looked at his brother. 'But they were shouting'.

'Maybe'.

'Something about her going away...'

'Look Sherlock stop it. It's hard enough without you being immature about it all'.

Sherlock shrugged and picked up a book, happy with the tension in the air. He should distract his brother though. 'People have moved into The Empty House'.

'Oh', Mycroft offered sitting down on the couch opposite his little brother. 'Is that where you were?'

Sherlock didn't reply but turned a page of the book.

The maid came in, with Father being a successful and busy architect and his mother an increasingly famous singer, a maid was required to look after the boys and maintain a sense of order in the house when both parents were working, which was always, and out of the country, which was a lot.

'Come on', she said taking away Sherlock's book despite his protest. 'Dinners ready you two'.

They also had a cook, for who had time to when travelling and designing.

'Would you like me to get Father and mother Lizzie?'

Sherlock rolled his eyes at another one of his brothers' constant shows of gentry.

'No it's fine Mycroft', she replied with a brave smile. 'Just wait patiently at the table and I should be back with them in a minute'.

Elizabeth guided them to the table then left to fetch their parents from the study. Mummy soon came.

'Where's father?' Mycroft asked.

'He'll be here in a minute', their mother replied. 'He said to start without him', although Sherlock admittedly had already started.

Dinner was eaten with a respectful amount of polite chatter. Sherlock told his mother all he had learned about the new neighbours and she suggested visiting them tomorrow and that maybe Sherlock could make a new friend. Or maybe just friend full-stop added Mycroft. Dinner was finished and father didn't show for which Sherlock was grateful. No-one mentioned the fight.

It was the start of the last week of the school holidays and already Sherlock was dreading schools return but determined to at least make the last week productive. Father left for Germany and wouldn't be back for two weeks, Sherlock couldn't be happier. Mycroft was again disappointed he wasn't allowed to go. Father was Mycroft's, Mummy was Sherlock's. Father made Sherlock uneasy and Mycroft was begging to go the same way. He missed playing with his brother, and at eight there were still so many games to play. The seven year gap between boys was starting to show.

Mummy was on the phone and was probably going to continue to be for most of the day, Mycroft was away somewhere with his friends and so Sherlock was once again alone. So he once again pretended he liked it that way.

Sherlock used the stick as a pretend sword as he whacked his way to The Tree.

Animals could be heard scattering before him and the trees swayed cheerfully in the wind. His trail to school was usually deserted and so he imagined it was his hidden secret, although Mycroft use to be by his side.

Sherlock made it to the foot of The Tree and looked up; he hadn't been here for a while and hoped it was still safe. No, he didn't care if it was safe he just wanted it to be still useable. Going around the back he used the old foot-holes of branches and rungs to get to the house at the top. He looked back down and smiled at the height and the protection the tree gave and privacy the privacy from the screen-like branches. The house was as strong and sturdy as when Mycroft had left it. Apparently he and father had made it well, back when both cared. Sherlock frowned, he didn't care if they cared, and it was his tree house now and always had been in his mind.

The hide-away had clearly been left alone apart from the few animals which he swept all remains of out with a broken branch. The rope had deteriorated though and he cut the remains off with his small pocket knife.

The inside was soon repaired back to the basics and so Sherlock climbed back down and headed home, pleased to have a task. Once home he headed to the shed were the cars were kept amongst a load of other random stuff and junk that had accumulated over the years. He soon found the long piece of thick rope that had been sitting up on a shelf, coiled up there since father had bought it for some project that he never started. Sherlock chucked the rope out onto the gravel and continued to dig through the piles of objects. He found and old net, some old heavy thick material, and a small green metal trunk. Sherlock opened the latch and found a sail pulley from a ship inside. He smiled like only an eight year old could at finding such a treasure and dragged the chest out to the pile of findings on the gravel.

Sherlock nudged the pile with his foot wondering how he was going to get it all back to The Tree. Now was a good time with Mycroft also away for him not to doob on him and Sherlock wanted to move it all in one go.

He looked around for something with wheels, and soon pulled out a flat wooden trolley. He couldn't believe his consistent luck and soon had the trolley loaded up with his finds and started the heavy haul back to The Tree.

Upon going past the back fence of the no longer Empty House, Sherlock herd the calling of the mother.

'John! John! Come inside for lunch and then you can come back out and play afterwards'.

Sherlock stopped his pulling and listened to the boy reply. 'Coming Mum'!

Sherlock rolled his eyes and continued his pulling away from the cliché happy family. He definitely didn't even acknowledge the tiny bit of sadness he felt inside.