Despite the horror he'd just put him through, despite scaring him half to death, Sherlock was still willing to make a mad dash for freedom and was excited by it, like it was a game. A part of him was lost in nostalgia a moment. remembering the little scamp of a child that tackled him merrily at the beach when they were still small. What simpler days...if only things could have remained that simple.
Sentimental nostalgia was pointless, and yet Mycroft fell into it time and time again--
And suddenly Sherlock was gone, ripping out of the bits that connected him to the machines--
no subject
[A roll of his eyes.
Despite the horror he'd just put him through, despite scaring him half to death, Sherlock was still willing to make a mad dash for freedom and was excited by it, like it was a game. A part of him was lost in nostalgia a moment. remembering the little scamp of a child that tackled him merrily at the beach when they were still small. What simpler days...if only things could have remained that simple.
Sentimental nostalgia was pointless, and yet Mycroft fell into it time and time again--
And suddenly Sherlock was gone, ripping out of the bits that connected him to the machines--
--Mycroft dashed, madcap, after the teenager--]
Sherlock!
[He hissed his name as he ran.]