Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or any of its characters.
The two Holmes brothers sat on the staircase, staring at the white door that led into the main lounge. Although it was firmly shut, it didn't manage to drown out the sounds of their parents screaming at each other from the top of their lungs. Father was late home from work again and Mummy had a bit too much alcohol, so the moment he came home, the shouting match recommenced.
Mycroft didn't mind too much. He knew that a divorce between his parents was imminent. He was always quite perceptive and mature for a thirteen year old boy, but he felt pity for his younger brother. At merely four years old, a curly-haired Sherlock had no clue what was happening. Mycroft put his arms around his little brother's shoulders and held him closely.
Sherlock jumped up and whimpered when he heard the sound of glass smashing. Mycroft immediately got up, knowing that he needed to intervene, but Sherlock grabbed his leg and pulled him back down, conveying his emotions with a single look. Mycroft could read his brother like a book and right now, Sherlock was frightened.
"TELL ME THE TRUTH!" Mummy screeched.
"It's going to be okay, Sherly. Everything's going to be fine," Mycroft whispered.
"TELL ME THE DAMN TRUTH, YOU COWARD!" Mummy's voice rang through the entire building, and it wouldn't be long before the neighbours came knocking on their door to try and gouge the latest gossip from them.
"Sherlock, listen," Mycroft said, grabbing his brother's shoulders. "I want you to squeeze your eyes shut and repeat the two times table for me."
"What?" Sherlock asked, looking up at him with a confused expression on his face.
"Just do it," Mycroft hissed, firmly.
The older Holmes brother knew what was coming next and he also knew that his little brother didn't have to hear these things. Immediately, he placed his hands firmly over Sherlock's ears. Sherlock trembled, he squeezed his eyes shut.
"One times two is two... two times two is four... three times two is six..." Sherlock started, his voice shaking, he placed his hands on top of Mycroft's, blocking out the sounds of his parents screeching.
"I've met someone else!" Father shouted.
Mycroft closed his eyes, ignoring the tears sliding down his cheeks. He had suspected it for a long time, but it was never confirmed... and quite frankly, he preferred to ignore it. Perhaps Father would get bored of his mistress and realise that his family was more important. Yet, it all made sense, he was surprised that Mummy hadn't raised the issue sooner. The late nights. Sneaky phone calls in the middle of the night. Father's suspicious looks when he came home from work. The obvious fact that he slid his wedding ring off quite frequently.
"What's going to happen now? Who is she?" Mummy asked, her voice reduced to a whimper.
"You've never met her before. She's an accountant and she comes into the workplace a lot. Listen, I never planned for any of this to happen, but I think- I know that I've fallen for her and... quite frankly, things haven't been right in our marriage for a long time. Long before Sherlock was even born," Father replied, honestly.
"How could you do this to me? How could you do this to the boys?" Mummy's voice was dramatically lower.
Silence.
He hated the silence more than the shouting.
It was the silence that brought uncertainty, when Mycroft couldn't predict what would happen next and he wanted to run inside the room and give his mother a giant, comforting hug. In the background, he could still hear Sherlock repeating the multiplication table obediently. A few seconds passed, and the door opened. Father walked out and straightened his suit in a business-like manner. His eyes met Mycroft's for a brief moment, but the older Holmes couldn't maintain contact. He couldn't bear it.
Suddenly, Sherlock stopped talking and Mycroft's hands slid away from his ears, they both stared at the man in front of them. Mr Holmes had once been a role model for Mycroft. He was someone to look up to. Now, he just seemed like a pathetic, old man. A man who Mycroft was ashamed to call his own father.
"Boys, I'm so sorry," he said, touching Mycroft's shoulder, who instantly jerked away in disgust. "You know I love you so much and I really..."
"I think you need to go," Mycroft said, firmly.
"Mycroft!" Father said, furrowing his eyebrows in a pleading look.
"You heard me," Mycroft said, holding Sherlock's hand tightly. "This is getting ridiculous. I can't let you hurt my Mother like this. It's obvious who you were going to choose from the beginning, so why don't you pack your bags and run along to your little mistress before I call the police. You've caused too much trouble in this household, I can't let you carry on this way."
"You don't mean it," Father said, tears welling up in his eyes, he turned to Sherlock. "Sherly?"
Sherlock turned away and huddled next to his big brother.
"I see," Father said, shaking his head. "I know when I'm not wanted."
He brushed past the two boys on the way upstairs, and within five minutes, he was heading to the front door with two suitcases in his hands.
"I want you to know that even though my relationship with your mother hasn't worked out, I still love you boys very much. If you ever want to get in contact, whenever you feel ready to forgive me, you know where you can find me," Father said.
He ran his hands on the front door and trailed down to the handle, pushing it down, the door opened. A breeze of wind rolled into the room, causing Mycroft to shiver, then his father walked out and an empty feeling overcame his whole being as he heard the sounds of his brother and Mummy sobbing in the background, he knew that he needed to assume the role as man of the house.
A/N: Please take some time to review, your opinions are much appreciated!