Mycroft's Goldfish

Chapter 1- Younger Days

Mycroft Holmes was never one for sentiment. His younger brother had a few silly relationships nearing the end of his childhood, before he was a sociopath, but nothing serious. Mycroft always thought caring was a disadvantage, and most of the time it was, but just once.. caring was the key to a success.

~~~

When the Holmes' brothers were young, their mother and father weren't around much. In fact, they were mostly cared for by the nannies and staff working in the house. Then when Mycroft was older he did most of the caring. Not bed-making or cooking or things like that, no, just acting as the strict father of Sherlock.

Sherlock didn't mind his parents being away a lot. Well, at least he tried his very best not to show that he did. Sometimes late at night he'd cry in his bedroom. Probably because he was tired and let his guard down. He felt abandoned by his own mummy and daddy and he was miserable.

One night elder Holmes was walking through the hall and past Sherlock's door with his glass of water, when he heard silent weeping coming from inside. He always had suspictions that his parents absence effected his little brother. Anytime he tried confronting him he'd always just deny it and tell him caring is a disadvantage, trying to copy Mycroft.
~~~

"MYC!" "MYC!" Mycroft hated that nickname his dear brother had created. "MYC! STOP IGNORING ME!" Sherlock screeched as he violently jumped up and down on Mycroft's bed, occasionally jumping on his body just to annoy him. "SHERLOCK HOLMES, DO AS YOU ARE TOLD AND GO BACK TO BED!" Mycroft screamed while attempting to kick him off of the bed. "BUT IT'S CHRISTMAS AND SANTA'S BEEN!", Sherlock pleaded, "THEY WON'T LET ME OPEN ANYTHING UNTIL YOU COME!!". Mycroft looked over at his bedside clock the turned to Sherlock, "It is 4am brother mine, if you do not go back to bed in a mere 5 seconds I shall take it apon myself to decapitate you." Sherlock looked annoyed at this remark but didn't move. "I'll also telephone Santa Claus and order him to take every single one of your gifts back, and he would, he owes me a favour." Mycroft said spitefully, secretly making a fool of his brother's childish beliefs. Sherlock looked stunned...a bit like a deer in headlights, as his brilliant mind figured what to do. "Four.." Mycroft sang. Sherlock's eyes widened. "Three.." The little Holmes brother jumped off the bed and sprinted to his room, climbing in bed as her heard Mycroft shout, "Two..!". "STOP PLEASE! I'M IN BED MYC!" Sherlock screamed fearfully. Elder Holmes chuckled and went back to bed.

About half an hour later Mycroft was dressed and ready. He didn't get back to sleep so I guess you could say that scaring Sherlock was for nothing, but he still got to see his terrified face thinking Santa was taking it all away again.

Mycroft went into Sherlock's room and to his surprise he was already ready to go. He looked incredibly bored, rereading his police force books. "Ready to go get Christmas gifs?" Mycroft questioned. Sherlock nodded slowly, pretending not to be so excited about it. He got to the hallway before hitting his older brother playfully and shouting "LAST ONE THERE IS A GOLDFISH BRAIN!" as he ran like his life depended on it. He was already 7 feet in the lead before Mycroft understood the race and started chasing after him.

Myc's longer legs helped him sprint past the 6 year old, who looked out of breath already. "Wait!", He coughed sorely, "I'm hurt!" Sherlock screeched. Mycroft did the gentlemanly and brotherly thing, stopping and walking back to hus brother who clearly wasn't feeling good. "Are you o-" he was interupted by Sherlock starting to run again as fast as he could. Mycroft shouted "You little pig!" as he jogged after him. Sherlock knew he was going to win this race, as he got down the stairs and into the main living room. He slid across the marble floor on his knees with his arms in the air in victory. "You cheated, thats hardly realy success." Mycroft said casually making his way down the stairs, seeing his brother had already won.

After opening all of his presents (and some of Mycroft's) Sherlock sat back, admiring the mountain of wrapping paper he had created. He decided to take a photo of it with his new Polaroid camera. The picture developed and he taped it to the wall. "Mother won't like that on her wall." Mycroft warned. "Well Mummy isn't here so she can't complain." Sherlock said like the moody child he was. Elder Holmes grunted at him then took his gifts to his room, neatly, before returning and ordering his brother to clean the masterpiece of paper he'd designed away.

Of course he wouldn't do it, so Myc helped the maids clear it up. His brother was a little grumpy monster at times.

After a long tiring day of chasing after his brother, cleaning his things away after him and trying to keep the new hamster safe from Sherlock's experiments (he didn't want a rerun of what happened to the last one, but that story's for another day), Mycroft practically fell into bed. He hated Christmas. His mother would usually send a small card wishing them a Merry Christmas and attaching a date of when they estimate to be back but today there was nothing.

He assured his sensitive little brother that the card is just delayed and that the government needs a new leader, like himself for instance, to speed things like this up. That did help a bit, but even at a young age Sherlock was smart. And even though Mycroft would never admit it..his brother was one of the smartest people in the country...excluding himself of course.

Boxing Day came and once again Sherlock wanted Mycroft up early to play with him and his new toys. Myc was dragged into the little boy's room and handed a helicopter figurine. Sherlock was playing as the clever police man detective, who once again, solved ALL of the crimes. He was also apparently a firefighter and doctor in his spare time. "One man simply cannot be all those things and also have a social life, it's impossible. There are only 24 hours in a day, we discussed that last week, do you remember?" Mycroft started, "life isn't as simple as that, brother dear."..... "Well, I don't care Myc! I will do what I please. These are my toys, get out if you aren't going to play!" Sherlock stated angrilly.

Mycroft got up and left. Probably no point in talking to his devilish little brother for a good 3 hours. That's how long his tantrums usually last for.

He spent his time reading, or educating himself of what normal 'goldfish' people like to watch on TV. He'd often write letters to his parents but never had the courage to actually send them, so he stored them away for safekeeping.

He heard a knock on his bedroom door and expecting it to be Sherlock wanting him to play again, he just shouted "come in!". One of his (well.. Sherlock's) nannies handed him a letter. It was stamped with lots of different countries and stamps. He opened it gently and it read;

My dearest sons, Mycroft and Sherlock,
We are missing you both so very much darlings and deeply regret not being there for Christmas. I do hope it was a truly special time to remember. We also hope that you like your gifts from us and Santa Claus.
Father and I are travelling the world, but it's still work so don't you be jealous, Sherlock, dear. I know Mycroft wouldn't be since he's older and such a mature boy. You two better be being good for the staff, you both can be quite a handful a times, my little boys.
Now I must go now as I have a highly important meeting to attend, but I shall write again soon.

All my love,
Mummy.
XxXx

Mycroft was feeling extremely fulfilled that his mother hadn't forgotten about him brother and him. He was grinning as he read it and imagined it in his mothers voice in his head. He missed his parents. And so did Sherlock.