Miss Me?

"Morty! I missed you!" Sherlock ran to the smaller boy and spun him off the ground in a fierce hug. Moriarty giggled, a rare occurrence in his life. "Sherly, Sherly put me down! It's only been a week!" Sherlock pouted, "Well, technically, it's been a week and four days."
"Yes, but that's only if you count weekends. And besides-" The two boys walked off together, jabbering happily.

Mycroft watched them from the corner while his parents talked with the teacher. He was glad that Sherlock was adjusting so well. Fifth grade was a turbulent year, especially when you were switching from private tutoring to regular school. At least his little brother had made one good friend already.

Sherlock and Moriarty sat alone at their small table in the back. "Hey, look," Sherlock pointed to the side of the classroom, where the teacher was breaking up a scuffle between two girls. Moriarty blinked. "What are they even fighting about?"
"Pencils, I think."
"Psh, we're never going to be silly like that." Sherlock grinned. "Promise?"
"Promise."

Many years later, the two were still best friends. They had fought over many silly things (pencils included) but they always made up afterwards.

"I'm considering joining the drama club." Sherlock blinked. "Oh, that sounds like it would fit you very well!" Moriarty laughed, "Yeah, I suppose I'm just worried that the other kids will think I'm weird."
"Psh, when did you start caring about those bastards?"
"To be honest, I'm more worried about you thinking that I'm weird."
"Well acting IS very strange, I never really thought you were the theater type-" He trailed off, and looked apologetic. "But it's a very unique talent! Extremely useful! I mean, I would try out too if I wasn't such a deadpan speaker! I'm sure you'll fit in very well. Don't worry about it."
"Promise?"
"Promise."

A few years after that, the storm broke. The two men stood on a street corner, screaming at eachother. The air crackled with hostility. They both knew that whatever came after this night would shatter lives, break people. Sherlock was glad it was raining. He didn't want anyone to know he was crying, especially the man who used to be his friend. "You promised! You made so many promises, and you broke them all! I hate you!" He turned on his heel and stalked away. Moriarty didn't follow him. He waited until Sherlock was almost out of sight before speaking up. "You promised too." To this day, he still doesn't know if Sherlock heard that parting jab, that last phrase. The slight flinch could have been a response to anything. It could have been a figment if his imagination.

Five months after that, Mycroft tracked Sherlock down in an obscure crack den. He might have found his brother sooner, if he hadn't been so careful about his drug use. "What did he do to you? How did this happen? You two were such close friends, what changed?" Sherlock blinked owlishly, still groggy from passing out. "I don't HAVE any friends, brother dear. You know that."
"This isn't a joke Sherlock, of course you remember him."
"Is this YOUR idea of a joke? It's not funny. None of your jokes are funny, this one especially so." Mycroft looked down at the wrecked face of his little brother, and softened a little. "I... understand. Don't disappear like that, and always remember one thing: caring is not an advantage. Promise?" Sherlock looked lost for a split second, before he remembered his line. "Promise."

Welp, thanks for reading through this mess! I'm also on the Sherlock amino, and I originally wrote this story for the magazine. Come check it out!