I thought about it and decided that a sequel to Little Sherlock might be fun to write. Thank you all who have been reading my stories. This first chapter is a simple introduction to the story. I'm experimenting with different types of writing styles. Please bear with me.

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock.

I hope you guys are in the mood for Little!Mycroft as well as Little!Sherlock

Getting Mycroft alone proved to be a challenge. The man was either busy with negotiating with foreign countries or eating cake, so the only time Sherlock could get into contact with him was through phone. But he couldn't use a bloody de-aging gun through the phone. Sherlock needed to put Mycroft in his place, dammit. He had already bought a bunch of embarrassingly adorable clothes for when he became a toddler, like little pj's that was made to look like a dragon custom. Sherlock was going to get Mycroft back for blackmailing him if it was the last thing he ever did.

Now he was at his aunt's birthday party. Mycroft was hosting it at his house and Mummy insisted on making all the treats for her sister's party. Normally Sherlock wouldn't be caught dead with his family but he knew the video would put him to deep shame if Mycroft ever decided to show it to anyone. Sherlock had to put up with all his aunts and grandmothers pinching his cheeks. The male family members never said anything against the female Holmes, so Sherlock couldn't look to them for aid. Sherlock thought about sticking close to Uncle Jerry, who was a big muscled, bald headed man that normally scared women off. However, the aunts found Uncle Jerry oddly adorable and he appreciated them giving him affection. He would be useless as a body guard.

Sherlock spotted Mycroft munching on a few treats. He excused himself from Aunt Penny, who had pinched his cheeks exactly three times in the last half hour, and made his way over. Mycroft saw him coming out of the corner of his eye. Sherlock made sure to keep the gun safely hidden in his coat.

"Hello Sherlock," greeted the elder brother, "Have you wished our aunt a happy birthday yet?"

"Of course. But enough about her. I want to discuss more important and pressing matters."

Mycroft slathered his bread with a generous amount of honey.

"And what would that be?"

"I want to talk about you deleting that video and removing all trace of it," there. Quick and to the point. Just like Sherlock had planned it.

"And why would I do that?"

Sherlock leaned closer and whispered, "Can we talk about this in a more private place?"

Mycroft considered his offer. He polished off his last bit of bread while he thought. There was suspicion in his eyes.

"Very well. Come up and follow me."

Mycroft led the way. Mummy found them walking up the stairs and called up to them.

"Are you two behaving yourselves?" she asked.

"Yes, Mummy," they replied in unison.

"You're not fighting?"

"No, Mummy," again the same perfect unison.

Mummy Holmes looked satisfied with their answers.

"Alright. Come back down soon. We're going to do presents in a few minutes."

They nodded and left. Sherlock was annoyed when Mycroft led him to his old toddler room and found that nothing had changed. There was still the stupid car-shaped bed with the toy box and everything.

Anger stirred in Sherlock's chest. It was as if Mycroft was hoping that he would become a three year old again one day. Well, Sherlock decided, this room will soon become Mycroft's and then Sherlock will be the big brother. He will tell Mycroft what to do and when to do it and maybe he wouldn't be nearly as fat when he grew up the second time. Sherlock aimed his gun.

Mycroft noticed it at the last second and grabbed it. The two fought over the rainbow-colored weapon, grunting and yelling at each other. Their heads were close enough together that when one of them accidentally triggered the gun, the beam hit both of them.

For Sherlock it was a terrible deva vu. For Mycroft it was a surreal experience. In an instant they were looking around the room that was suddenly much bigger. They glared at each other.

"This is all your fault!" Sherlock cried, getting angrier to hear his high pitch voice again.

"I disagree," Mycroft's voice was also high pitch but still a little bit deeper than Sherlock's, "I have to say that the person who brought the bloody gun is at fault. What was your intention?"

"What do you think my intention was?"

"Something very childish. This can probably go towards the top of the list of the worst things you have ever done."

Their clothing had changed magically when they shrank. Sherlock was wearing a plain T-shirt with a bee on it. Mycroft was wearing a plain red shirt with a loose jacket over it. He looked classier than Sherlock. It just wasn't fair! Why did Sherlock have to be the one with the stupid smiling bee shirt? Why was his voice squeakier? Why did he have to suffer this a second time?

Mycroft looked through his pocket and frowned when he pulled up a play cell phone.

"I see I don't have my phone with me. No matter. I will contact them another way."

Sherlock was silent.

"Um, Mycroft."

"You're very lucky that we had that potion made."

"That's the problem."

Mycroft stopped short, "What?"

Sherlock cursed himself. He really should have planned this out more.

"The potion won't work."

Now Mycroft was really starting to lose his cool.

"What do you mean it won't work? It worked before!"

"I reconfigured the de-aging gun so that it wouldn't," Sherlock admitted, "We're stuck until we come up with a new solution."

Sherlock watched Mycroft's face turn pinkish. The older toddler brought up his hand. It was the lightest of smacks, its intention not to cause pain but to show his displeasure. Sherlock was caught off guard when the hand landed lightly on his head.

He felt it coming. Sherlock tried to stop it. Tears were starting to form. He had to stop himself. He tried. He tried. He tried.

Sherlock started crying and he ran out the door.

"I'm telling Mummy on you!"

The idea that Mummy would get mad at him terrified Mycroft. His adult mind was thrown out the door as Mycroft followed.

"I didn't do anything!" he cried.

The two boys descended down the steps, not noticing everyone looking at them in shock.

Their adventure had just started.