"No! Don't do it!" A little boy with curly brown hair tugged on his mother's coat. "Give me Redbeard back." The eight year old threw himself with all of his force at his mother, trying to take her away from the beloved pet. But the mother held on persistently. She would not let go of the dog, who was hanging with his head hung low. His red ears were gray with age, as was his snout. His sad eyes looked at his owner as if to peer in to his heart. The animal was, in fact, dying. Though there are those people who swear that animals can not know anything about their situation, it would be obvious to anyone that this one could.
"Sherlock," his father said, looking him in the eyes. "Redbeard is sick."
The little boy shook his head, muffling his crying with his fist. "He is not sick." Sherlock said. "He will get better."
"We are going to take him somewhere where he can get better." His father told the eight year old.
Sherlock shook his head more insistently this time. "You are taking him to be put down. You are killing him!"
A pang went through his father's heart at hearing the truth. "You will see each other again some day." He said.
The little boy looked at his father. He knew that the he was trying to convince him that Sherlock would see Redbeard in the afterlife. Sherlock didn't know if there was an afterlife. His older brother, Mycroft, didn't believe in one. The child stopped for a second, giving his parents the opportunity to take away the pet.
"Stay safe." His mother said and left. They door closed between the boy and his pet, searing off a sacred bond. Sherlock sat down on the floor. Tears streamed freely down his cheeks.
In the corner of the room sat Mycroft, trying to read a book. However, his brother's crying kept interrupting him. Mycroft may have acted like he didn't care, but he had a soft spot for his younger sibling. He got up from where he was sitting and sat down next to his brother.
The older boy was awkward with feelings and emotions, and most of the time didn't know how to handle tears, but it was as if something came to him. He wrapped his arms around his little brother. They sat there until the tears slowed down, eventually stopping.
Sherlock looked up at his older brother, thankful for the bond that the two of them shared, hoping it would never get severed. "Is Redbeard gone?" Asked the eight year old, not expecting an answer. Mycroft was an adult, and adults liked to lie to children.
Mycroft looked down at his younger brother, seeing tears forming in his galaxy blue eyes. He nodded. "Yes." He said. "They put Redbeard down." The tears started flowing from Sherlock's eyes, tugging and pulling at Mycroft's heart. "But he doesn't have to be for you." The older boy told Sherlock.
"What?" Sherlock asked, the tears halting their flow.
"There is a place." Mycroft told the younger boy. "A place in the dark corners of your mind." He pointed at Sherlock's head. "Now close your eyes." He ordered the boy. Sherlock obediently closed his eyes. "Can you see it?" He asked. "It could be a street, or a flat, or a-"
"Palace?" Sherlock opened his eyes.
Mycroft laughed at the boy's creativity. The child was always pestering him to play his imaginative games with him, be it pirates or soldiers. "Yes. It can be a palace." Mycroft ruffled his brothers dark hair. "Close your eyes again and picture Redbeard." He told Sherlock. Sherlock obeyed, picturing the dog as he was in his prime. "Do you see him?" Sherlock nodded. "You can keep him there." His brother continued. "Play with him anytime you want."
Sherlock opened his eyes, smiling for the first time since his parent's had left. "Do you have a Mind Palace?" He asked. Mycroft nodded, his was not a palace but he did have a place to store important memories and facts. "Do you want to play Pirates?" Sherlock asked the older boy.
Mycroft would usually refuse, but just this once he nodded. "Yes." He said. The younger boy jumped up and Mycroft followed.
When Mr. and Mrs. Holmes later came back, they would find the brothers bouncing around with fake wooden swords in their hands. Mycroft would later lock up the memory in his own mind palace, cherishing it forever.