As soon as Mycroft, Harry and Lizzie had gone to school, Sherlock, John and Kevin were alone in the house. The boys were downstairs, watching cartoons; Kevin was upstairs reading the paper. John looked at his new best friend. The younger boy was staring intently at the screen, as though trying to deduce it.
"You okay?" John asked, his brows furrowed.
"I'm trying to work out where they are. They must be really small to fit in."
"What on earth are you talking about?" John stopped himself from laughing.
"The people inside the television. I want to know they fit in."
"You're so weird! Haven't you ever watched telly before?"
"No. We didn't have a telly. Daddy didn't like things like that. Mycroft asked once, but I didn't see him after for three days."
"Oh..." John didn't know what to say to that, "Well, it's just a picture, Sherlock. Someone in America drew lots and lots of these pictures, and they put them all together so it looks like the characters are moving. Then it's sent to the television and it plays from that film. It's pretty cool."
"But what about the ones with real people?" Sherlock picked up the controller, looked at it in pitiful confusion, and pressed all the buttons with the palm of his hand. The volume went vs up, the screen tinted green, and the channel changed to a soap opera where two girls in tracksuits were screaming at a handsome man in a suit.
"Sherlock!" John yelled, exasperated.
"Sorry" he said in a tiny voice.
"It's okay" he said, as calmly and quietly as possible "it doesn't matter. Did you want to know where the real people are?"
"This show is filmed in Australia. Actors play each of the characters, they learn their script, and then they act it out. Some people film it on big cameras, and then the film is sent to the television, just like with the cartoon."
"That's really cool."
"My Dad was on T.V. once."
"Really?" Sherlock's eyes went wide, and he rolled onto all fours, staring as intently at John as he had been at the television.
"Yeah. He won an award for foster caring. We had this boy went I was four, and he was a big teenager, and he'd just come out of prison, and Dad discovered he was good at art, and he paid for lessons, and now James is a really nice guy, he takes me to the circus sometimes, and he's got a job doing design for some marketing company."
"Wow! He won an award! On TV! That's so cool!" Sherlock was almost bouncing, he was so excited. He didn't know why he felt this surge of warm feeling inside his stomach. He couldn't identify it.
"We're very proud of him." John said. There it was, that warmth. Pride.