"Happy birthday, dear Mycroft, happy birthday, to you!"

Claps of applause all around.

"Aren't you going to blow out your candles, Mycroft?" Mrs. Holmes said brightly, the candles casting a cheerful glow on her smiling face.

"Yes, Mycroft, aren't you?" Sherlock was perched upon a stool on the other side of the table, a great grin plastered across his own face.

"Make a wish, brother mine."

Mycroft looked like he was going to throw the flaming cake at his brother. Or stab him with the serving knife, as dull as it was. Instead, he managed the slightest of smiles, and quietly blew the candles out.

"How lovely," Mrs. Holmes clasped her hands together. She was about to hand him the cake knife, then thought better of it, and began to cut the cake herself. Their father, the elder Mr. Holmes, tried to stifle a laugh, and handed her some small paper plates to put the cake on. "It's not every day your oldest turns twenty-one. "

"Oh yes, a wonderful milestone, reaching the grand old age of twenty-one. They'll create a holiday in your honor. All hail the great Mycroft, genius extraordinaire," Sherlock said, rolling his eyes.

"Perhaps they should," his brother said, accepting a plate of cake from Mrs. Holmes. Their father had taken the moment to excuse himself, and she followed. Sherlock had deduced they had purchased a computer for him and were now off to go fetch it. He admitted to himself that he was rather jealous. He had very little pocket money because he'd been fired from his last two...excruciating...odd jobs at school and his reputation was now preceding him. His parents were well-off enough to purchase a second one for his own birthday in a few months, but they likely...wouldn't. Favoritism, or they wanted him to work harder. Maybe it was all in his head. He'd always felt like a second fiddle to his brother, because of his supposed 'genius'. He honestly—they'd both honestly thought that Sherlock was an idiot until they met other children.

"That was a rather good one, if I do say so myself." There were only crumbs left on Mycroft's plate.

"You ought to cut yourself another half-sheet," Sherlock said with that smirk again. His brother was known for having a sweet tooth.

"Oh, shut up, Sherlock," Mycroft rolled his eyes, and actually did cut himself another slice."This is an extremely trying yearly event, and I don't need your snide comments to make the struggle any harder than it already is."

"Yes, of course. The chore of having your parents dote on you on your birthday. How horrible it must be for you."

"Don't be smart."

"Because you're the smart one. Naturally. I'm terribly sorry for even attempting to communicate with his highness. My gorilla-like grunts must be annoying to you."

"Yes, they are," Mycroft said. He looked out of the dining room door. "Whatever on earth is taking them so long? It's not that difficult to carry the box out of the closet. They thought they hid it so well this year...I do hope they remembered to buy the actual computer and not just the screen..."

"Try to pretend to be thankful this time, Mycroft. They spent a whole day looking for that present for you."

"Which means it's probably rubbish, then. It's fine, really, I was going to trade it in tomorrow anyway, and purchase a high-end one that I really wanted-"

Something in Sherlock snapped. He'd had enough of his brother's condescending attitude. As much as he shared the attitude that their parents were simple folk who tried really hard, the fact was they really did care, and Mycroft obviously didn't.

"You daren't. You do that, and I'll tell them."

"You'll tell on me? What are we, five, dear brother?"

"I'm not joking."

Mycroft stood up, pushing his plate back on the table. "Tell me, dear brother, what good is a simple word processor to me? I'm only getting something that I can use-"

"It's not that—believe it or not, your reasoning makes sense, but it's the implication that...we're all too stupid to get a proper present for you!"

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. "You said it, not me."

SLAM! Sherlock shoved Mycroft right off of his stool and into the wall. The large cake went flying and landed upside-down on the tiled kitchen floor. He pulled Mycroft's arm behind him, and his older brother grunted in pain.

"It's your birthday, brother mine, and here's my present—not pounding you into a pulp for being...shall we say...unnapreciative. When our parents come back, I want you to act like it's the greatest thing you've ever seen. And if I find out that you've traded it in...well...you can use your imagination, as feeble as it is."

"Sherlock—errgh!" His younger brother twisted his arm further up his back."Fine! Fine, all right—just let go!"

He let go. Mycroft adjusted his shirt and tie, giving his brother a bit of a horrified look. Sherlock, despite not being as smart as Mycroft, had always been stronger. When it came down to a physical fight, even simple wrestling matches as children, he often won due to brute strength, and perhaps more of a willingness to fight dirty when necessary. His brother could outsmart him, yes, but he would get a black eye for his troubles.

"Sherlock and Mycroft! What on earth is going on here?" Their mother's cry came from the entrance to the dining room. Their father looked just as flabbergasted, as he held a large box with festive wrapping paper and tied up in a great red ribbon. "The cake—look what you've done with the cake!"

"Sherlock—" Mycroft began, and Sherlock dug his heel into his brother's foot. He grunted again. "I mean to say...that is, Sherlock and I were attempting to get more cake when...we...accidentally dropped it. Terribly sorry about that."

"It's just as well," their mother sighed. She bent down and began scooping it up into an old box. "We all probably shouldn't be eating that much sugar anyway."

"And it's cleared a nice space on the table for your present," their father put the festive box on the table.

Sherlock gave a hideous glare to his brother as he began unwrapping it.

"Oh! My word, a computer! How lovely...IBM, a great...brand. Thank you...very much," he glanced over at his younger brother, who now had quite a wicked smile on his face.

"Really, mother and father. Thank you...I appreciate it."

Disclaimer: Does not own Sherlock, this is an educational foray and commentary of the show, under fair use.

This one-shot comes from a writing community amongst my friends, the prompt being 'Awkward Family Situation'. Mycroft vs. Sherlock came to mind, those poor boys...I know it's not explicitly shown in the show but I feel like Mycroft might have been the favorite due to his older-child status and being the 'smart' one. This could explain some of the issues in their relationship.