A/N: Sherlock's probably a teen in this, and Mycroft is a grown up.
Sherlock shrugged his jacket off, placed it on one of the hooks by the door, and headed to his room. There was a frown on his face, and as he brushed past his older brother without any acknowledgment, Mycroft knew something was wrong.
Normally on Friday afternoons like that one Mycroft and Sherlock would spend time together, from when Sherlock came home from school, to when the government needed Mycroft. Mycroft did it to give Sherlock the attention their parents didn't, and even though it sometimes messed with his schedule, and Sherlock seemed annoyed by the tradition, they both secretly loved the Fridays when they had some sibling time.
"Sherlock?" Mycroft said, following Sherlock down a long hallway, leading to where more bedrooms than was needed were. Sherlock glanced back and noticed Mycroft for the first time.
"Go away, Mycroft," Sherlock replied.
Now Mycroft was positive that something was wrong. Normally when Sherlock was trying to ignore him or trying to get rid of him, he would just refuse to talk to him. Never had he directly told Mycroft to go away.
"Okay, what's wrong," Mycroft said, catching the door right before Sherlock slammed it in his face.
"Nothing."
"You sure?"
"Yep."
Sherlock carefully placed his backpack on his desk, instead of tossing it on the floor as usual. Another sign something was up.
There was silence for a while, neither Holmes brother feeling up to chatting. In a bit, it was Sherlock who broke the silence.
"Mycroft?"
"Yes?"
"Do- do you think my deductions make me a freak?" Sherlock rushed the question to where the words blended together, but Mycroft understood him.
"No, I don't think that at all," Mycroft instantly replied. He was telling the truth too, he thought the quick deductions were a valuable asset, and on occasion he was jealous of his younger brother.
"Where would you get an idea like that?" he asked.
"This new kid showed up in class today, Tom Riley or something. I did one of my deductions, and he made fun of me for it."
"And you didn't do anything back? I'm prou-"
"He has a black eye, I have detention."
"All because he called you a freak? Normally you don't mind insults."
"Not just a freak. He said I belonged in a sideshow, and then he made fun of Molly and John, and said a few other things that I really don't feel like repeating."
Mycroft noticed his younger brothers sad expression, and knew that kid must have said some seriously jerkish stuff to get Sherlock sad. Sherlock wasn't one to show emotion, something had to be big to get to him. Mycroft clenched his teeth together.
"What did you say his name was?"
"Tom Riley, why?"
"No reason. Hey, I got to be somewhere, maybe we can 'hang out' tomorrow?"
Sherlock nodded, and Mycroft left, storming his way down the hall.
No one messed with Sherlock without feeling his wrath.
He whipped out his phone.
"Anthea, I want every piece of dirt you can find on Tom Riley."
Tom Riley smirked to himself the next day as he saw that Freak avoid him in the hall. Just yesterday that kid was acting like he owned the place, but Tom had showed him his proper place.
He walked up to his locker and opened it to put a few books in there, when half a hundred spiders simultaneously crawled out, headed directly for Tom. He let out a very girlish shriek that seemed higher pitched than humanly possible, and ran off screaming, tears starting to come.
Through tapping into the security cameras, Mycroft was able to watch and record the entire scene. He'd have to give a copy to Sherlock later.
He didn't feel a single bit of regret after watching it.
After all, if you left your summaries of your therapist visits right in a place that anyone with money and a certain level of clearance can access it, and then proceeded to tease the brother of Mycroft Holmes, you were just begging for torture.