Chapter Text
The first time that Sherlock Holmes met Death was as a child.
He was experimenting ( what else?) on The Swing.
The Swing deserved the capital letters being the archaic but sturdy type that hung from the branches of the tall beech tree outside his grandmother’s house. It had jute ropes and a seat of planking worn smooth by housing the bums of past generations. The current descendant was swinging himself back and forth, carrying out an experiment about pendulums and parabolas. (Mycroft’s physics textbook lay on the grass by his feet) .
The child had seen an older human perform a trick on a swing last week in the park.
The swing took him higher as the breeze ruffled through his errant curls. Now came the tricky part – the theory of parabolas. If he timed it right, at the very apex of the upward drift all he had to do was let go and – fly…
A somersault in mid air! of all the stupid fixations in the human world.
Darkness.
When Sherlock opened his eyes, he could see the world in shades of gray and purple. A world currently being peered at between his legs. This struck him as odd as he couldn’t feel any strain on his hamstrings (he learnt that through another ‘borrowed’ book on anatomy) nor could he feel any pain elsewhere though he clearly fell off the swing. A few adjustments later, he sat up and blinked slowly.
This was not The Swing, though it deserved the capital letters. The ropes were black like licorice strings and the seat was a curious charcoal black. No, ebony he realized running his hand over the rough planking. His ears caught the grass rustling.
ATTEND TO ME SMALL HUMAN
It was a deep voice that went straight through your head and down your spine, did a triple somersault then completed the circuit again. Sherlock lifted his head.
THERE HAS BEEN AN ERROR. RETURN FROM WHENCE THY CAME.
“I can see right up your nostrils.” The child observed. He thought for a bit and added. “Can I get my nose to look like that?” Death sighed as Sherlock focused cross eyed while jabbing his finger against his nose.
STOP THAT
Surprising himself Sherlock obeyed.
DO YOU KNOW WHY YOU ARE STILL HERE?
Sherlock shrugged, gazing around with mild interest.
Death tried another tack.
ER..YOUR MATERNAL RELATION WILL FIND YOUR ABSENCE MOST DISCONCERTING.
“So?”
YOU DONOT SEEM VERY FRIGHTENED SMALL HUMAN.
“Why should I? You’re not scary. You don’t even make woo-woo noises.”
That was the problem when dealing with children. They didn’t develop the mental screens that adults used around the reality of death. It was jarring and altogether embarrassing to be on the receiving end of their curiosity. He could read this one at a glance. Impressive vitality, lack of fear and total boredom. A deadly combination, if he may employ the pun.
NOW PAY ATTEN-WHAT ARE YOU DOING?
Sherlock seated himself on the swing that overlooked Infinity.
“Push me.” He ordered imperiously.
What did humans call a past experience that occurred all over again irrespective of time and space? Déjà vu! Ysabel sitting on the swing, chubby legs swinging, pleas of “Puth me Father” Eyes of frosted blue that stared from the past into the present.
VERY WELL. .JUST ONE PUSH…
"-himself off. He’s lucky his skull didn’t crack open like a melon. Master Sherlock? Are you awake, dear?”
The worried faces around his bed grinned in simultaneous relief. For a moment they looked like skeletons set in permanent grins.
“Did my skull really crack open?” he asked dreamily.