It's all Fine

The first time it happened, I was eight. Just a small child, cleverer than most adults. Mycroft was 14. Head up his own arse, I hated him.

Then he staggered into my room. His hair a mess. His school uniform torn. Shirt un-tucked tie hanging out, he didn't even have his blazer. His usually smug face was now covered in his own blood. His nose, bent in a way I didn't know it could bend, his hand suspended underneath it catching more drips of blood.

"Sherlock," he just about chocked out, before falling to his knees. I jumped up from where I was playing and rushed over to him.

"Mycroft." I said, the tiniest bit is sympathy in my voice. "What happened?"

He looked up at me through his deep brown eyes, "Please," he started, "don't tell mummy." He broke. It wasn't full on sobbing, he wasn't capable of that. But there were definitely tears. "Please Sherlock. Don't tell her. Please."

I knelt down beside him. I'd never seen him like this before. It was like a different person. "It's okay, I won't tell her. Not a word. What is it? What do you need? Let me help you." We weren't close and on any other occasion I wouldn't have offered but I couldn't bare to see him like this a and I know it was just as hard for him too.

"I just need some tissue, for the blood." I jumped to my feet and rushed to the bathroom grabbing as much tissue as I could before sprinting back. Looking back now, it was way too much, but that didn't matter. "Thank you, little brother." He said, and I nodded handing it to him.

"Will you come here?" He asked, and I complied, sitting down on the floor next to him. For some reason he put his arm around me and pulled me in close. This was the only bit of physical affection we'd ever shown towards each other and the only bit we ever would.

"Thank you, you're the best little brother anyone could ask for." He leaned down and kissed my head. I thought it was repulsive, but I let him do it anyway. He needed to. He needed me.

"Sherlock," he began, his voice more serious, "when you're older, don't listen to other people. Don't do what they want you to do or be who they tell you to be. You can be what you like. Anything in the world. It's fine. It's all fine." I nodded into his chest as I felt more tears fall from his cheeks.

"I want to be a pirate." I stated and he smiled a little.

"Then a pirate you shall be, no matter what anyone else thinks."

We stayed like that for a while, just leaned against the wall of my bedroom in silence.

"Mycroft?" I asked.

"Yes brother dear?"

"What happened to your nose?" I was fairly sure I knew the answer but I asked anyway.

He sighed. "Just some other boys at school. They don't like me because I'm different." I nodded.

"Was it because of Michael?" He smiled at the sound of his name.

"My my, you are clever aren't you." He kissed the top of my head again and began to stand up. "Thank you," he said, but he was looking at the ground. "Remember what I told you."

This happened more than once. It was almost on a weekly basis. He'd come to my room and I'd help clean him up while he sorted out his uniform. It only took a month before our mother noticed. She pulled him out of that school and put him in another but he was still hurt and beaten.

Eventually he just shut down. No emotions at all. No more friends, no more boyfriends, no more feelings. The only person he was even slightly open to, was me but that was only on the very rare occasion.

As we grew up I became more like him. I learnt to control my feelings and how to hide them from people but I couldn't shut them off like he said he did. I suspect he was lying. He still felt on the inside.

I know he is grateful that I was there for him though. He doesn't say it, but I know he is. He's always trying to help me out, do me favours, lend me money. But I won't except any of it. He needs to know that I did what I did because I love him. He doesn't owe me anything, and he never will.

If I had to then I'd do it all again. If he ever needed me, I'd be there for him in a heartbeat. And I know he feels the same. On the outside, we may seem to hate each other, but it's what's on the inside that counts.