Chapter One
Mycroft Holmes was born on the 17 October 1966 to Wanda and Timothy Holmes. Generally, he was a good baby and was happy and content. Wanda was very ill after she had Mycroft and was advised by her doctor not to have any more children, so Mycroft grew up alone. But just after his 7th birthday, his parents told him that he was going to have a baby brother or sister. Mycroft felt excited at first- he wouldn't be alone any more. The other children at school were a bit odd towards him, which Mycroft put down to his superior intellect, so to have a sibling was going to be so much fun. But then he was worried. What if his parents liked the new baby more than him? What if he was forgotten about? He knew how much his mother had wanted another baby, he could see it in her eyes when she told him. What if he just wasn't good enough?
The only person Mycroft could confide in was his Uncle Rudi. The two hadn't really been close but he was famous for having a level head when needed- even if he was a bit strange. His father dropped him by one Saturday afternoon and said he would pick him up around five in the evening.
Uncle Rudi's flat was a picture of 70s furniture and décor. Orange wall and brown furniture with an abhorrent rug covering the carpet. But Mycroft didn't mind. And he liked the fact that his uncle was eccentric, Mycroft thought it showed he had character.
"What can I help you with, Mikey?" asked Uncle Rudi, after he made his nephew a hot chocolate.
"Mum's having a baby." He said, bluntly. No point beating around the bush.
"I know. And that's great news." The elder man replied.
Mycroft just sat in silence.
"Mycroft, that's really good news." He sighed. "When your mother had you, she was very poorly. Very poorly. And the doctors told her not to have any more children. She was devastated. She always wanted a big family. Always. And then she was told she couldn't. Don't get me wrong," he said quickly, seeing Mycroft's face, "She loves you very much. So very much but she wanted more than one child. And now she has the chance to have more. She's so very excited Mike, and she wants you to be excited too!"
Mycroft sat and thought for a minute. He was being selfish really, but what did you expect. For seven years he had had his parents undivided attention and now that was all about to change. But his Uncle was right. He had to embrace the bigger picture and look to the future. This was a good thing for all of them and who knew, maybe he would enjoy having a baby in the house.
On the 19 July 1973, Mycroft found out that he had a baby brother. He was called Sherlock. Funny name for a baby, Mycroft could remember thinking, but then again, so was Mycroft. He went with his dad to the hospital to meet his little brother. As he walked onto the ward, he saw lots of mothers, some still expecting and some with babies in their arms. He wanted this one day, he wanted to be a father and to pass on his knowledge and experience to someone else. He saw his mother, lying in a bed with a pink cover over herself. She looked tired but happy. She smiled when she saw her eldest son and beckoned him over.
"Mikey, meet Sherlock. He's your little brother." Said his mother as he came closer.
Mycroft looked down into her arms. Nestled into his mother was a little baby. He had a tuft of jet black hair, that curled at the ends. His eyes were open partly and Mycroft could make out that his eye colour was blue. Babies commonly had blue eyes when they were born and a few days after birth they either changed colour or stayed blue. Mycroft secretly hoped his brother's eyes would stay blue. He would retain a sense of innocence if they stayed blue. It also meant that the brothers would be different as Mycroft had brown eyes.
"Can I hold him?" Mycroft asked his mother. She nodded and passed Sherlock to Mycroft. He remarked at how light his brother felt in his arms but he was sure that would change in the coming weeks when Sherlock gained weight as he fed more. He could feel his parents watching him and he smiled. This was his moment with his brother before everything changed. He held Mycroft for a while, feeling him move around in his arms, his hands clenching and unclenching. He made a silent vow in his heart that he would always be there for Sherlock, always. No matter what happened. Brothers protected each other and Mycroft promised he would always protect Sherlock- to the end, if it came to that.
Sherlock came home a few days later. It was strange, having a baby in the house. Mycroft had become used to visiting his mother but the baby stayed at the hospital. And now he was at home, his home. The one thing Mycroft found was that Sherlock cried all the time; when he was hungry, when he was tired, when he was unhappy about anything, he cried. To a 7 year old boy, this felt like it was all the time, all day every day, constant crying. The only solitude Mycroft could get was when he was at school. He would sit in the library at break and lunchtimes, just reading to himself. He didn't like the other children at his school and he didn't do friends. He just liked to be himself and on his own.
Mycroft watched Sherlock changed and develop as the months passed. They celebrated his eighth birthday and Sherlock's first. And then the other bombshell hit. Mycroft and Sherlock were going to be joined by another sibling. There were going to be three Holmes children. Mycroft had just gotten used to Sherlock. He admitted he was better at one, he was more interesting and most importantly of all, he had stopped crying. He didn't know if he could feel the same about another sibling. He loved Sherlock more than anything, anyone in the world but he didn't know if that could stretch to another sibling, another person…