"No!"
"Sherlock…"
"No!"
"Sherlock!"
"N-O!"
Exasperated, Mycroft tried a slightly different approach.
"Sherlock, you'll make a lot of new friends!"
The five-year-old flipped his head around arrogantly and turned up his chin to his older brother, who was carrying the struggling soon-to-be-kindergartener to his new school.
Sherlock blew a raspberry into his brother's face and stuck out his tongue, clearly indicating his extreme displeasure at the turn of the situation.
"Sherlock," Mycroft warned, his tone becoming officious. "Use your words."
"NO!" Sherlock insisted.
"Mummy and daddy are expecting you to behave at your new school," Mycroft tried to say over the chorus of "no, no, no, no!"
"You must be a good boy, and I'll come and pick you up when the day is over, and then maybe we'll go and celebrate with…something."
Sherlock locked eyes with his older brother and said, with the utmost sincerity gleaming in his icy eyes "I'm not a good boy. I'm bad. I'm a pirate."
"Can't there be good pirates too?" Mycroft tested.
"No!" Sherlock insisted, sticking his small, chubby finger deep into Mycroft's ear.
"Augh!" Mycroft let Sherlock slide down a little bit, but refused to drop the struggling child, knowing that as soon as Sherlock hit the concrete he would begin running back to their house, through traffic, crossing streets without looking.
"Okay, how about this: Can't bad pirates be good if there is something in it for them? Just for a little while." Mycroft said, seeing the school, and salvation, in sight.
Sherlock contemplated this for a moment. Bad people being good for a reward? It sounded a little bit funny to him.
"What're we talking about here?" Sherlock said gesturing humorously.
"How about ice-cream? A cone if you don't get in trouble by the end of the day?" Mycroft asked, knowing that this particular bargain would be too much for the sugar-loving kid to pass up.
"Deal!" Sherlock quickly said, becoming limp and complacent in his brother's arms.
Just in time; Mycroft placed Sherlock gently on his feet as they approached the iron-linked gates of the school, which Sherlock viewed with unease.
"You didn't say anything about a prison." He whispered.
"The gates aren't to keep children in; they're to keep bad people out." Mycroft explained reasonably, knowing that he was only half lying. "You're at your safest in school."
Sherlock looked up to his older brother, the morning sun a twinkling gem in his eyes, and grasped the long, mature fingers with his own small, soft hands.
"I'm safest when I'm with you." He said quietly.
Mycroft paused for a second, letting the picturesque quality of the moment weight on his heart, then he cleared his throat.
"Nice try."
"Drat." Sherlock said, dropping Mycroft's hand and scowling darkly inside the building.
Mycroft laughed.