Mycroft gave himself one last look over, straightened his tie, plucked a piece of lint off his grey pullover, and pulled his blazer in tight. He couldn't help but scowl at himself in the mirror. His shoes were worth more than his entire uniform. The patch on his breast pocket was cheap, an iron-on; everything about his uniform screamed lower-class.
Parklands High School
His mother wanted to get away, Liverpool sounded far enough. She uprooted their now rather small family and purchased a three bedroom semi-detached home near Notre Dame Catholic College. Mycroft was suddenly considering changing his faith.
He let out a slow and controlled breath and composed himself. He stepped out of his en suite bathroom and heard a faint scratching sound at his door. "Sherlock!" He shouted. He stormed out of the room to see Sherlock smiling brightly with an indelible marker in hand.
"Oh for God's sake, Sherlock! Give me that." He snatched the pen from Sherlock's hand and looked over the door.
MICROFTS A WILLY
Mycroft pulled the cap off the pen and changed the 'I' to a 'Y' and put an apostrophe in its proper place.
"Seven years old and you can't even spell your own brother's name." He said tossing Sherlock the pen. "They're going to have to sacrifice you to God at Saint John's." Mycroft tutted.
"Why do I have to go to Catholic school?" Sherlock groaned and slammed his head against Mycroft's door.
"Sherlock! Don't bash your head in. It is just about the only good thing you have going for you." He lifted his younger brother's head away from the door.
"I'm gonna be smited."
"You're not going to be struck down by the holy hand, I was only joking about the sacrifices."
"Jesus doesn't love me." Sherlock sulked.
"Oh put on your jumper and stop being such a prat."
"Why do you have to drop me off so early?"
"My school is thirty minutes away, I need to take two buses, and I will not be late on my first day."
"Why does it have to be so far?" Sherlock groaned as he stamped his feet.
"It was the only school that had an opening for my age." Mycroft huffed.
"I'll be there for ages."
"Thirty minutes prior.
"Thirty-five." Sherlock corrected.
"Those extra five minutes are killer." Mycroft jeered.
"And fifteen minutes after, can't mummy take me?"
"She's sleeping Sherlock, please." He started ushering his brother down the stairs.
"Did you pack lunch?"
Mycroft gave him a look. "No."
"I'm not eating cafeteria food."
"Fine, put your shoes on, the dress ones, no trainers. And for God's sake where's your jumper?"
"Washed it."
"Washed it?" Sherlock pointed to the bathroom. Mycroft opened the door and saw standing water on the floor. "Sherlock! Bloody... Arg!" He shouted turning the sink's tap off. He pulled out the soaking wet blue jumper. Sherlock was giggling and fighting back a smile.
"Guess I can't go to school now." He laughed. Mycroft shoved the wet sweater in his brother's hands.
"Put it on."
"But." Sherlock pulled it away and revealed his wet shirt and tie. "It's wet."
"No shit, Sherlock."
Mycroft arrived to registration late and with damp trousers. Sherlock never hugged him unless he was ill or soaking wet. He kept letting out his controlled breaths to keep from snapping. He looked around at the riff-raff. The school was the second poorest in the ward and he really didn't want to see the poorest. The halls were packed with unruly children, shoving into one another, and shouting.
He looked over his schedule and quirked an eyebrow.
Business?
He rolled his eyes. Why couldn't they do lessons like they did at his last school? He had no choice over foreign language; he was already fluent in French. He supposed it would be just like English, nobody from the area seemed to speak it properly.
On the way to first period a fellow classmate bumped up against him none-too-gently and knocked his schedule out of his hands.
"Watch it." The massive boy said as his mates stood around and laughed. They all walked off together. Mycroft went to pick up his paper when another boy strolled up along-side him and threw a pen at the back of the other boy's head.
"Oi!" The boy shouted. Mycroft looked up at the boy who had come to his defence. His jet black hair was sticking straight up and he had his shirt half un-tucked and he wasn't wearing the mandatory grey pullover.
The tow-headed boy stormed back to throw the dark haired boy against the wall. "Look you little piss-"
The dark haired boy kneed him hard in the groin and while he was reeling in pain, he grabbed Mycroft's hand and ran off with him. They flew out the front doors together and ran to hide behind the bins.
The dark haired boy ran his hands through his hair and let out a laugh. "Fuck, he's gonna be well pissed off!"
"You really didn't have to do that."
"Ah, don't mention it." He laughed.
"I mean... really."
The boy gave him a look of disgust and scoffed, "Right, the thanks I get." He turned to leave. The boy licked his lips and looked pensive. "You doing anything? After school?"
"I-"
"Look, we're all going to the beach later, n' I need a date."
"What?" Mycroft asked aghast.
"I need a date." He repeated. "You, me." He pointed between the two of them. "God, if you're not a poof, swear, shoot me now cos-"
"I'm... I can't." Mycroft blushed and looked away.
"Right." The boy let out a sigh and shoved his hands in his pockets. "At least have lunch wiv us." He practically begged. Mycroft pursed his lips and thought. He nodded and the boy smiled. Mycroft's heart gave a little flutter and he felt slightly faint.
He sat through business in a sort of dreamy haze. He'd never actually had friends to sit with at lunch before, let alone a date. He had to figure out some sort of arrangement for Sherlock.
He couldn't well leave Sherlock alone on his first day. All throughout history he thought up ways to get out of picking up Sherlock. During break he was near tackled by the boy with dark hair.
"Hey, forgot, name's Greg. See you at lunch then." He was panting and smiling brightly at Mycroft. The boy had amazing teeth.
"Um yeah." Mycroft felt postively flustered. Greg ran off in the other direction to throw himself into the middle of a group of students. Mycroft swallowed hard.
Mycroft was bored to tears in technology. He kept idly swivelling back and forth in his computer chair. They were doing a refresher on everything; he was surprised the teachers didn't do a refresher on how to breathe.
Mycroft entered the cafeteria and looked at the scene in horror. He felt a hand clamp on to his shoulder. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw it was Greg.
"We're outside, sod this." He said pulling Mycroft away by the hand. He laced their fingers together and dragged Mycroft to the courtyard where there was a small circle of students seated with their packed lunches. "Food here's shit, here share mine." Greg shoved his brown paper bag into Mycroft's hands. He placed a hand on Mycroft's shoulder as they sat.
"Fuck's sake, you're serious then?" A dark-skinned girl with frizzy hair asked in shock.
"Um..." Greg pointed to Mycroft and opened his mouth to speak but shut it. "The fuck's your name anyhow?"
"Mycroft."
"Right, Michael here is my boyfriend." Greg said pulling the paper bag away from Mycroft.
"So he's coming to the beach with us?" The girl said looking Mycroft over.
Before Mycroft could answer Greg said, "Yeah." With a snarky tone. He pulled out a sandwich and ripped it in half making a grand mess of it. He handed Mycroft half and started shoving his half in his mouth. Mycroft took a few small bites. "Right, best be proper n' shit. Introductions. Everybody, Mike, Mike, Everybody." A few kids gave a nod, others ignored him completely. "Ah shit, you can't be Mike, Mike's Mike."
"Just call me Dimmock then." The other Mike said giving Greg a look.
"Nah he's Mike A, you're Mike B."
"What? No! I came first."
"Bet you did." Greg laughed.
"Piss off." Mike said throwing his crumpled up bag at Greg.
"He said his name is Mycroft you git." The dark-skinned girl piped up.
"What kind of name is Mycroft?" Greg asked.
"So fucking rude, Greg. Thought he was your boyfriend."
"Shut it, Sally."
"You don't even know his name!"
"Sod names, all that matters is lurve. In't that right Mikey?" Greg said giving Mycroft a pat on the thigh.
"Susie's gonna be there." Sally said crossing her arms. Greg's lips twitched into a smirk.
"Oh is she now?" He took another bite of his sandwich. Sally let out a sigh and rolled her eyes. "Wait, who the fuck's this." Greg said pointing to a young boy eating with them.
"Oh God, just ignore em." Sally groaned. "It's John Watson, babysat em, one bloody time. Won't stop stalking me."
"Piss off kid!" Greg said shooing him with his hand.
"Greg, he's fine." Sally said with a sigh.
"What the fuck? What is he twelve?"
"Eleven." Sally said with another sigh.
"He cannot come with us to the beach."
"He nicked us a pack of cigarettes."
"John! My boy." Greg reached out to hug John who swallowed his sandwich hard. He ran his knuckles through John's fair-hair. "You rascal you!" He stood abruptly. "Alright who's having a smoke then?" He started pointing to his supposed mates. "Fuck you, fuck you, and especially fuck you. Sally, Mike A, Mike B, Johnny boy, come on." His three cast out mates looked at him in disgust. "Right, Toby, you too." He motioned with his thumb.
They walked single file to the back of the school and hid near the bins. John pulled out the pack of Malboros and Greg snatched it away. "Where'd you get this? It's still in its wrapping! My boy, John!" He tousled John's hair again. "You scoundrel, you."
"Nicked em from my sister." He said in a small voice. Mycroft felt a pang of guilt. He looked scarcely older than Sherlock, yet the boy was lighting up the first cigarette like he'd done it loads of times.
Greg put two in his mouth and lit up both. He handed one off the Mycroft who looked at it before putting it to his lips. He took in small puffs and managed not to hack and cough. He felt a flutter in his chest and a light-headedness.
Mike B, Sally, and Toby snuffed out their cigarettes and started walking back inside.
"You are coming right?" Greg asked with an innocent look on his face.
"I have to pick up my brother."
"Where's he at?"
"Saint John's."
"Fuck!" Greg ran his hand through his hair. "Johnny boy. How far are you from Saint John's?"
"I dunno." He shrugged.
"Go pick up Mike's brother. What time?"
"Three fifteen." Mycroft said in shock.
"Three fifteen." Greg repeated.
"But... my-"
"What's his name?" Greg asked.
"Sherlock."
"Shit." He snorted. "You serious?" He laughed. "Right his brother, Sherlock, three fifteen. Here right down your address." Greg tore a strip of paper off his schedule and handed Mycroft a pen.
Mycroft left his final period a shaking mess. Greg met him outside of science and started walking with him to the front door. He was led to an idling jeep and was crammed in the back with Greg, Sally, and Mike B. Greg pulled Mycroft on his lap to allow more room. Mycroft felt a knot in his stomach and lump in his throat.
The boy driving was a maniac. Greg kept shouting "Anderson!" Every time they hit a dip too hard and Mycroft went flying. Greg held him tighter and Mycroft thought he was going to faint from the excitement of it all.
They reached the beach in one piece and met up with another pack of students that had a cooler.
"You smoke?" Greg asked.
Mycroft looked at him strange. Did he not see him smoking not three hours ago?
"Yes?" Mycroft queried.
"Great." Greg said with a smile. They started walking under a pier. Greg plopped down in the cold sand and started removing his shoes and undoing his tie. Mycroft took a seat next to him. The other kids formed a circle, opened up the cooler; and started passing around the beer.
Mycroft held the bottle in his hand. He'd only had sips of wine before. Greg used his shirt to twist his cap open and Mycroft followed suit. He brought the bottle to his lips and grimaced at the taste.
"I know, Australian, its fucking piss water." Greg laughed as he leaned back on to his elbows. Mycroft tried to keep up with the back and forth chatter but he couldn't follow what half of them were saying. He finished his beer and felt light-headed once more.
"Look who it is, Greg." Sally teased as a young girl with oriental features made her way across the beach with a boy in tow.
Greg lunged at Mycroft and near knocked their teeth together. He started straight into an aggressive open-mouthed snog under the pier and Mycroft was left speechless. He'd never been kissed before; the sensation was nothing like he thought it would be like. It was wet but not entirely unpleasant.
Greg hummed and licked at Mycroft's lower lip. When he thrust his tongue into Mycroft's mouth Mycroft was a bit taken aback. He could hear all the "Oohs." And Sally saying "Aw yuck." Greg leaned more into the kiss, entwining their legs together.
Greg pulled away suddenly. "Susie, Phil, what a surprise." Susie looked at him with a scowl. "This is my boyfriend, Mark." Greg grabbed Mycroft's hand. "Now if you don't mind, we're gonna go finish what we started."
He pulled Mycroft up the hill near the pier and started laughing his head off. "Did ya see her face? I mean, it was like." Greg imitated her wide-eyed shock. "Man, wish I had a camera."
"You wanted to make your ex jealous?" Mycroft asked wringing his hands.
"Not just jealous, fucking traumatized. Birds think they've turned a boy gay, destroys their self confidence, ya know? Well don't give me that look. Bitch deserves it. Running off with Phil. Caught em PE, going at it. What?"
Mycroft felt like his blood had turned to ice. He should have known it was too good to be true. He balled his hands into fists and started walking up the hill on his own.
"Where you going?"
"Home." Mycroft said plainly.
"Max." Greg whined.
"Mycroft." He snapped. "And don't pretend like you don't know my name. You know full well what it is. You are just some wannabe bad boy whose mum still writes his name in his shirts." Greg checked his collar and pushed his tag down. "She even had you tuck in your shirt this morning, how sweet." Mycroft tutted. "Probably even had a fight over the pullover? Because Greg's a big boy now, he doesn't have to listen to his mummy. Oh I know I'll ruck up my shirt! That'll show her." Mycroft shook his head and gritted his teeth. "My baby brother is more mature than you and he's in primary school." Mycroft let out a sigh. "I should have never come out here."
Mycroft stormed off.
"Can I see you again?" Greg asked sheepishly from half-way up the hill.
"Get a good look, Gregory." Mycroft said motioning to himself. "Because this is the last you'll see of me."