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Beach's First Tide

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"Myyyycroooooooooooft!"

Mycroft looked up from his novel in time to see his excited younger brother bounce into the library they had in the Holmes' manor and move his book before Sherlock pounced into his lap and wrapped his small arms around his neck. Mycroft grunted as one of Sherlock's tiny knees came too close to that delicate spot in his crotch and he eyed his younger brother's face.

"What's got into you, little brother?" Mycroft asked as he adjusted Sherlock's body to sit on his lap, Mycroft's book now crammed again the arm rest of the chair he was occupying.

"Mother said you'd take me to the beach!" Sherlock exclaimed, his eyes growing wide in excitement and making Mycroft snicker. "I want to study the tide pools and little rock cliffs to compare the difference in sea life!"

Mycroft chuckled again; he always loved Sherlock's interest in science. Except when it came to a loss of some possession in a random chemical fire. Yes, even at seven, Sherlock could figure out how to do such a thing.

"Well than," Mycroft said, lifting Sherlock off his lap as he stood. He doubled over and placed his hands on his knees to look Sherlock in the eye. "Someone should go get their swim trunks on and their science notebook ready. I'm leaving in twenty minutes, so you better run."

He watched Sherlock bounce away quickly before standing up straight and going to get ready himself. Might as well have some fun too while Sherlock did his thing.

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"Greg!"

Greg couldn't help the smile that spread quickly on his face as he got down on one knee and wrapped his arms around the excited young man that came bouncing up to greet him.

"Hey, John! You ready for a good time, mate?"

John Watson nodded excitedly as Greg stood from the floor and went over to a string bag that sat on the counter.

"I asked your parents and they said it'd be alright if I took you to the beach," Greg smiled, the young John Watson balling his little fists up and holding them to his chest in excitement. "The day is beautiful and the weather is spotless, you won't find a better day!"

"Let me just go get ready!" John cheered before sprinting off to go change.

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There wasn't a cloud in the sky as Mycroft wadded in the warm summer water. His head was tilted back, the water up to his neck, the sun warming his face as he relaxed. He could hear Sherlock shouting in happiness as he wrote down his discoveries; they were normally just a word or two like "wow!" or "amazing!" but they still made Mycroft smile.

His smile only widened when he lifted his head to see Sherlock on the rocks with a small blonde boy, pointing things out and seeming to be explaining all to the boy. He saw another boy more about his age watching the two as well, the grin on his face priceless. He had short brown hair that glowed golden in the sun and a face that just couldn't help but be trusted and loved. Mycroft blushed slightly and leaned his head back to look towards the sky. The boy was nice to look at, but he couldn't let himself develop feelings, he just couldn't. Not with college coming up so soon.

It was quiet for a long time and Mycroft just let himself float in the water, his body completely relaxed and his mind blank except for that boy on the bank. That beautiful smile... That breath-taking face... Bliss and heaven mixed so perfectly it should be a sin to-

"Sherlock!"

Mycroft's head snapped up at once at the sound of the panicked cry. He looked around widely, having drifted farther down the beach, to see that little blonde boy on the rocks shouting Sherlock's name. Farther out in the water, Mycroft could just make out a mess of black curls and a panicked young boy.

"Shit, Sherlock!" Mycroft screamed, his heart dropping into his gut and his body going into overdrive. He frantically started towards his brother, the tide taking his little body farther and farther from Mycroft.

He could just make out a toned, shirtless man around his age dive into the water off the rocks and start towards Sherlock. It was him...

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Greg pulled his shirt off over his head and ran towards John as he heard the boy scream out. Off in the distance, he could make out a small boy around John's age splashing around, obviously drowning, being pulled farther and farther out by a rip current. He quickly dived into the waves, hearing a man off in the distance screaming at the younger boy as well. He swam into the current and quickly paddled his way towards the panicked young boy.

Wrapping an arm around the younger boy's neck and shoulders, he turned both of them onto their backs, keeping both their heads above the water. The younger boy, his name apparently being Sherlock, was gasping in his arm, his little hands by his throat around Greg's arm. Slowly, Sherlock began to go limp in Greg's hold.

"Stay awake," Greg gasped, shaking Sherlock to keep him up. "You'll be fine, just stay awake!"

Sherlock nodded weakly and Greg held onto him tightly as he rod out the current. As it weakened, Greg made his way out and slowly started to back stroke towards shore, Sherlock's body limp in his arms, but he was still breathing. He made it to the shore quickly, dragging the light body up into the sand and away from the water. A crowd had gathered, most gasping at the limp body. Greg quickly started mouth to mouth.

"Move! Move! That's my brother!"

Greg felt a body close to his side as he backed off from Sherlock. The young boy coughed a few times and his eyes landed on the man next to Greg.

"Mycroft?"

"Are you alright, little brother?" Mycroft asked as Sherlock sat up and nodded. He turned to Greg - whose face was even cuter up close - and breathed a sigh of relief. "You saved him, thank you."

"Of course. I'm just glad I could get him in ti-"

"Sherlock!"

John elbowed his way through the crowd, repeating, "Move, please, move, he's my friend! Sherlock!"

When John finally pushed through, he ran up to the three of them and stopped in front of Sherlock.

"John?"

"Are you okay, Sherlock?" John asked, pulling Sherlock into his small arms. Sherlock froze, unsure of what to do.

"W-what are you doing?"

"Hugging you."

"Why?" Sherlock asked, scrunching up his nose in distaste.

"It's what people do! What friends do!"

"Friends-" Sherlock paused and glanced sideways at Mycroft before wrapping his arms around John.

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The two younger boys went off to play after Mycroft made sure Sherlock was okay. Sherlock dragged John off towards the tide pools - determined to stay away from the ocean - to go study more of the life there. Mycroft was left with the cute boy that had just saved his brother and, for once, was at a loss for words.

"Uh-" he paused, the boy looking at him with a small smile, Mycroft's face brightening. "T-thanks again. If you hadn't- I mean, without you, Sherlock- I mean, uh-"

"Don't worry about it," he chuckled, holding out his hand. "Greg Lestrade, by the way."

"Mycroft Holmes, the pleasure," Mycroft said, taking his hand with a blush.

"Say, Mycroft, want to go grab a coffee? There's a place right up there where we can still see the kids."

Mycroft colored a little darker and nodded. He stood with Greg and called off to Sherlock and John where they were going, Sherlock just waving them away over his shoulder. Yeah, he was going to be fine with John by his side, Mycroft could just tell.

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Thirty-two years later
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Sherlock was working quietly in the lab at Bert's, a microscope focused on a tray of brick dust. The door opened on the other side of the room and Sherlock looked up, his heart skipping.

It was him, that boy Sherlock met at the beach thirty-two years ago. The one that had been there when he was carried off by that tide, the boy that had been first to call Sherlock a "friend." He looked John over quickly, ignoring what was happening around him until he was figuring he was staring too long.

"Iraq or Afghanistan?"

Yes, he'll do nicely as a flatmate.

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Greg got into the black car that had been following him seventeen blocks now after finally answering that bloody pay phone. The ride to wherever he was going wasn't long, and he soon found himself stepping up the bright white steps of a place called the Diagnoses Club. He was lead to an office door and knocked quietly.

Mycroft glanced up as his door was opened.

Ah, Inspector-"

It couldn't be-"

His hair had faded to a dark gray and his face was worn down with many obviously stressful years. But his eyes, despite the wrinkles, were the same; still kind, still open, still smiling. His face was still adorable as it had been thirty-two years ago and Mycroft could hardly see a change.

"Sir?" The DI asked, tilting his head and raising an eyebrow.

"Sorry, Inspector. Say, want to go grab a coffee?" Mycroft said, watching a smile slowly creep over Greg's face.

"You remember me?" Greg asked slowly, his whole body relaxing.

"I may be an ice man," Mycroft chuckled, shaking his head. "But how could I forget my first kiss?"