I don't own Sherlock. If I did, I wouldn't be typing this on a 14 year old computer.

Comments welcome. Flames will be burned to offset the cost of heating.

Chapter 1 – I (don't) believe in Santa Claus

Sherlock Holmes was 8 years old when he stopped believing in Father Christmas. And it was all Mycroft's fault.

It was exam week at Mycroft's school, and he was stressed. Between trying to fill the holes in his memory by rereading everything and stress eating, the last thing he had time for was his brother and his theories. If he didn't get good grades, he couldn't get into uni. He didn't want to disappoint his parents and himself by not getting accepted. He was very smart, but exams stressed him.

"Mycroft! I figured it out! I know how he does it!"

Mycroft sighed as Sherlock stormed into his room with several books and pads of paper. His hair was messy and he had paint and ink on his school shirt. Mummy would not be happy when she saw it.

"Sherlock, I'm studying. Can this wait until later?"

"NO! I just made a great scientific discovery! I know how Father Christmas gets to everyone's house in one night!"

"Please, I need to study!"

"No you don't. The exam is easy and you already know it all. You are just stressing yourself for no reason. Plus you are spoiling your dinner by stress eating again. And you are getting crumbs all over you text book."

"ENOUGH! There is no Father Christmas and if I don't study I won't get into a proper university, and it will be ALL YOUR FAULT!"

Sherlock looked at Mycroft in shock. Why would he say such things? He was smart enough to get into uni now. Why say that there wasn't a Father Christmas?

"But…"

"Quit being a brat and GET OUT!" Mycroft slammed his text book on his desk.

"Boys! What on Earth is going on here?"

Mummy Holmes glared at her two boys. She had been working on the Christmas decorations down the hall and heard them fighting. After hearing the book slam, she sighed and went to break it up. She didn't allow fighting and wasn't going to let it continue.

"Well? Are either one of you going to explain yourselves?" Mummy Holmes said, putting her hands on her hips.

"Sherlock is being a brat and isn't letting me study." Mycroft said quietly.

"Mycroft said horrible things." Sherlock said quietly.

"Sherlock, go downstairs. Also, how many times have I told you to change out of your uniform after school? Mycroft, you'll be having dinner in your room tonight. No TV and no dessert. And I want the cookies that are in your desk."

Sherlock sighed and left the room. Mycroft sighed and handed over his large stash of sweets out of his desk. Mummy Holmes glared at him and the large bag of assorted candy and biscuits.

"If you continue to waste your pocket money on rubbish, you won't get any pocket money. If this is all you are going to eat, perhaps you shouldn't have dinner, since you've had enough already for a small army. Honestly Mycroft! And just because it is exam week, doesn't mean you don't have to be nasty to your little brother."

"Sorry mummy." Mycroft looked sadly at her as she exited his room and shut the door behind her.

Sherlock sat on the couch in the drawing room. This was Mummy Holmes' office and being asked to go there meant he was in trouble. He hated the ugly pink of the room and the uncomfortably firm couch. But the thing he hated most was coming, being scolded by mummy. He heard her in the hall, asking the maid for tea and to dispose of Mycroft's sweets. He sighed sadly as she entered the room.

"Why do you insist on annoying your brother? It's impolite to bother people when they are busy. And remember that you aren't getting any more pocket money, since I've had to now buy another shirt for you. It's been five shirts that you have destroyed since the beginning of term. I cannot send you to school looking like a mess. There are standards and dress codes. And what do you think they would say about your father and I if we cannot instill basic lessons in our children. They would laugh and talk! We have a reputation to maintain and I will not have you causing problems."

"Yes mummy." Sherlock said automatically. He always found that it got him out of trouble by just repeating that over and over.

"And why is it that you decided to skip football practice? Your father and I are paying good money for that! You need the exercise and to get outside. So, where were you? Looking for dead animals again? Accusing people of things they didn't do? Well?"

"I was at the library. I needed to get some books. But mummy, I made a great discovery!"

"And?"

"I found out how Father Christmas gets all around the world in one night!"

"Honestly Sherlock!"

"But mummy! If we could find out how to replicate the process, then father would be able to come home more often! Plus we could go and see him without being on the plane forever too!"

"So, instead of going to practice, you are doing junk science? Why do I even bother?"

"But mummy!

"NO! You will go to practice after school. You will not waste your brain on stupid stories. You will behave yourself!"

"But…"

"NO! You will march yourself upstairs! No dinner, no dessert, no TV! And heaven help you if I find anymore death things in your room!"

Sherlock sighed and took his things to his room. He sighed as his placed his note pads in his desk. All that hard work, all for nothing. He didn't want to get rid of his collection of animal bones. They were so interesting, different that human bones. He really didn't want to go to football practice. It was boring and his teammates were dull. They hated him. They wouldn't let him have the ball. They were always tripping him. When they lost a game, they would blame him. He preferred his violin and youth orchestra. He was good and his teacher wanted him to play at the Christmas concert. There wouldn't be any practicing tonight.

Sherlock changed into his pajamas and got into bed. He knew his mummy would come up in about 5 minutes to check that he was in bed. He curled up and held his pillow. Silent tears slid down his cheeks.

"Why doesn't anyone understand?"