Chapter 1
Prologue:
Mycroft Holmes stood at the window and stared out at the hills in the distance. His ice blue eyes strayed to the top of one of the tallest hills, and he smiled as he watched the sun cast its golden and red light onto the grass as it rose. 'That,' he thought to himself, 'is the perfect place for the Summer Palace.' He dropped the green velvet curtains and sighed.
----------Chapter 1: Llama's?----------
"I've found the location for your little....project."
"You mean you had your minions do the actual finding, while you take the credit."
Mycroft huffed out a breath. Honestly, did his brother have to be so difficult?
"Footmen and servants are not minions, Sherlock. They are people I employ, whom get paid a hefty sum bi-weekly."
Sherlock's snort filled the dining hall where they sat. "I notice you did not disagree with my assessment of your actual participation, Mycroft. What was it you called it last time? Ah yes, legwork."
Mycroft rolled his eyes and said, "I have no time for cavorting around the countryside, making merry with the commoners. And why should I, when I have perfectly good people on hand to complete the task for me? I see no reason for unnecessary legwork."
"I'd say you have a pressing need for 'legwork'. What better reason than to manage your ever growing girth? No matter what anyone says, there is absolutely no need for the king to be the same size as his kingdom."
"Honestly, Sherlock. Must you be so childish? It's only just gone seven in the morning!" Mycroft sighed as Sherlock's eyes scanned his plate and lit up with a mischievous light.
"How's the diet going?"
"Wonderfully. Now back to the subject at hand, if you will." Mycroft walked up to the largest window in the room and beckoned his brother. He watched with hidden amusement as Sherlock jumped from his seat in his usual dramatic fashion.
Mycroft pointed out towards the tall hill, the one which had the sun shining straight down on it from above. "Well, brother dear? What do you think?"
"Does it have trees? You know I need trees."
Mycroft raised an eyebrow. As if he'd forgotten such a simple criterion. The merest suggestion of such a thing would have offended him, had it come from anybody else. "Yes."
"A lake? I'll need to acquire samples from somewhere."
Rolling his eyes, he drawled, "Indeed. From which many bacteria and creatures of all sorts may be gotten."
"A surrounding village from which to acquire supplies and equipment?"
Mycroft sighed. "Quite."
"Llama's?"
Mycroft blinked. "Llama's?"
"Yes."
"Oh dear lord, what on earth for?" Mycroft exclaimed, both eyebrows raised this time.
Sherlock merely stared back, awaiting an answer.
"You don't wish to experiment on the poor creatures, do you? You know I can't allow that."
He continued to stare silently, until Mycroft gave in with a shake of his head.
"I have been reliably informed that it has them in abundance."
Sherlock nodded and turned back to the window. "I'll need to review the sketches before you receive my final verdict."
Mycroft snorted and pulled the sketches for his brother's project out of his vest pocket, and handed them over.
"It's..." Sherlock's eyes scanned the blueprints and the hill in the distance, before turning to look at his brother. "It's not an atrocious choice, and will certainly do well enough. Though if I find out you've been fibbing about the llamas, I'll have to take my revenge."
"If you move everything in my quarters six inches to the right again, I will convince Mummy that it would be best for all parties involved that you be exiled from the kingdom for at least a year."
Sherlock shot a dramatically offended look in his direction. "Of course not, brother dear! Would I do something like that? Besides," His wounded appearance changed into a smirk, before he tossed the blueprints down on the table and flounced to the door. "I've already done it twice. Doing it again would be boring! This time, I'll move everything six inches to the left." And with that, he strode out of the room, his favourite long jacket swishing dramatically behind him.
Mycroft watched his brother's retreating back, his brain already coming up with the plans for changing his rooms over to the farthest, most obscure corner of the castle, if only to make it harder for Sherlock's imminent antics.
Turning back to the window, Mycroft stared out at his kingdom, and especially at the now Sherlock approved hill in the distance. 'It seems,' he thought to himself, 'we now have the confirmed location of the Summer Palace. Well,' he amended, 'just as soon as we get the current residents to rescind the property.'