A/N

This is one of the first fics I wrote. My goodness. I always loved the idea of peering into Sherlock's past a bit, as well as revealing background on Mycroft. I feel like he's always so under-appreciated; I absolutely love his character. The two are five years apart by my mind's standards, aged 17 and 12, respectively.

Anyways, this is the product of a mind groping around for reasons as to why Sherlock is the way he is when it comes to relationships. I have a feeling the story as a whole will be adequately balanced between him and his older brother, so expect Mycroft to be present quite regularly.

I threw in a random character of my own - a girl called Adrianna - as a sort of pre-John character. We'll see how long she sticks around. As appealing as Kid!Lock is, I really don't get into the thought of Watson and Holmes being childhood friends.

(Shocking) Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or any of its characters. This is purely for fun, not for profit.

Mycroft sat alone at the dinner table, ignoring his breakfast by busying himself with the morning paper. He perused the articles with bored eyes; stocks were falling again today (they'll rebound in no time), a woman's flat had been burgled (her eldest son out of the nest, most likely, given the lack of forced-entry signs), and London was - yet again - holding a large farmers market and bazaar on the riverside to promote purchasing local goods. Nothing exciting ever happened.

A sigh escaped the 17-year-old's mouth as he turned his attention back to the now-cold toast with jam. How he wished the world could offer its citizens just a bit of excitement outside of buying locally-grown tomatoes. For a moment he pondered the possibility of trying a foreign exchange program just to shake things up a bit. Maybe a change of pace would help him readjust his perspective on London. The idea was quickly shrugged off, though. He was responsible for something far too important here at home; he couldn't abandon it for any reason.

Mycroft took another bite of partially-soggy toast and a sip of tea before gathering his books for school. He straightened his tie before rising from his seat; about that time, he heard the pat pat pat of bare feet on the wooden floor, slowly - and sleepily - making their way into the kitchen. His younger brother entered the kitchen, donning nothing more than a bed sheet. Mycroft stared as the boy groggily made his way to the fridge, standing in front of it a minute before finally removing a carton of milk.

"Morning, Myc." yawned the young boy as he began to make himself a cup of tea. His dark curls fell lazily off his head.

"Sherlock, you know what Mummy has said about wearing clothes. Young gentlemen should wear pants in community spaces…" Mycroft tried to retain his composure in the presence of his younger brother. He couldn't help letting a small smile spread cross his lips, though. The little things Sherlock did always seemed humorous to him.

"mmmmmmmhm..." Sherlock was barely listening as he finished making his brew, replacing the milk in the refrigerator. He turned towards Mycroft and gave him an un-amused stare. Only twelve years old and already he could pull off such an adult look. It was incredible how quickly the boy was growing up.

"Just put on some pants, Lockie. I would rather not have you scolded by either of our parents this early in the day." Mycroft was sincere in his words, though he could see Sherlock's suspicion dancing like a fire in his bright eyes.

"I don't think they'd be able to find the time in their schedules to do that. Not today, at least. Maybe I should call father's assistant and have him pencil me in for a scolding tomorrow night, after supper. That'd be the only way he'd see me." Sherlock rolled his eyes and sipped delicately at his tea. Though they were meant to be sarcastic, his words carried a heavy truth; both mummy and father were too busy to care if their boys were wearing pants or not. Mycroft let out another sigh.

"Then you put on pants because I said so." The comment merely provoked a roll of the eyes from the young boy. "And if they're not on by the time I return from classes, I won't take you to the library today." he didn't bother commenting on how Sherlock should be at school today. He knew how much hell the place gave him, and he really didn't want his brother to feel stressed out today. Not with such an important dinner tonight.

The comment got his attention. "But Myc! You promised! You... Myc! You can't do that!" he loudly protested. His large eyes and desperate look were enough to break anyone's heart. But Mycroft held firm.

"I will take you if - and only if - you are properly dressed by the time I get home. Are we clear?" he raised an eyebrow to his brother.

Sherlock was quiet for a moment before quietly responding. "Yes, Mycroft." he looked down to his tea before taking another drink.

"Thank you, Sherlock. Be sure to find your library card, too. Wouldn't want to be unable to rent any of the books you find, would you?" He gave his brother a quick pat on the head, which earned him a slap on the wrist from the young one. They both smirked at each other. "I don't have time for a fight right now; I'm running late." he ruffled Sherlock's hair before heading to the door. "See you soon, Lockie!"

The door shut with a click, the last sound before a wave of silence swept over the house. And since he hadn't anything better to do, Sherlock trudged off to his room in search of some trousers. No way he'd miss the regular library visit over a few articles of clothing.

Sherlock had a room big enough to fit a few queen-sized beds in comfortably. He wasn't spoiled, per say, as the room was nearly bare; a bookcase inhabited the southern wall, his bed preoccupied a space near the windows on the western wall, and a few little toys or trinkets dotted an area near the foot of the bed. A violin and accompanying stand were placed by another window at the southern wall. Otherwise, the room was empty.

The young boy took a look around his abode with a sigh. He hated when Mycroft would pull that role - the whole I'm older than you and have more power over you than you'd like so you have to listen to me act. He didn't like to admit it openly, but he respected Myc deeply for the way he handled their relationship. He was the most important person in Sherlock's life, the one person whom he could turn to in any time of need. Mycroft was a brother, role model, and friend to the younger boy, something which was hard to come by in this life of his.

Sherlock hadn't really made any friends at school; he'd been promoted a grade back in his third year, so his smarts were enough to garner negative attention from the other kids. Add his thin stature and sharp tongue to the mix and you had the perfect victim for any bully school-wide.

Most of the time he instead holed himself in the public library - there was a girl there who he would talk to from time to time. Her name was Adrianna, a year younger from a similar family with money and privileges they didn't necessarily deserve. She loved books almost as much as Sherlock did; and occasionally (when Sherlock felt like talking) they would spend a good thirty minutes or so discussing books and stories they enjoyed. Both shared a passion for adventure and mysteries; "How great would it be to wake up and know that excitement was promised to you every single day of your life? Never would you have to flip through the Telly channels to try and amuse yourself. Just walk out the front door and get swept up in and adventure! Brilliant!" the two often mused about such things, laughing and dreaming with wide eyes and high hopes.

He didn't mind Adrianna's company so much. She actually listened to him when he had things to say, and she left him alone when he wanted to think. On top of this, she didn't mind his abrupt manner and smartass attitude; she would giggle at the quips he made, flutter her eyelashes, and give him the brightest smile he'd ever seen. He knew Adrianna liked him - only an idiot would be so blind to such a thing - and he thought that... Maybe he liked her too. At the very least, he felt strangely empty when she was absent.

But that was something hard to think about for him. He'd seen Myc bring home girlfriends and break up with girls and maybe even shed a few tears for that last girl he dated - they were together for a year and a half before she decided she "loved him like a brother." Myc had sulked for a couple weeks because she was all he had thought about for the better part of a year. He then took up the mantra "caring is not an advantage," something which rarely crossed his lips. It was only brought about when he couldn't deal with a situation.

Deep inside, Sherlock was happy the couple went their separate ways; it meant his older brother had more time to play. But based on what he'd seen from Mycroft's experience, he wasn't sure he wanted to deal with such an unattractive emotional roller coaster. Girls seemed like too much trouble at the end of the day.

Still, he entertained the thought of holding Adrianna's hand from time to time. He could tell she used a light lotion every day by the way her cuticles perfectly encompassed her delicate fingernails (a lotion scented with lavender and lilac that smelled wonderful to him) and bet that her hands were softer than any feathery blanket his father's money could buy. She wouldn't be so bad to hold hands with, since she probably wouldn't say anything about it. Adrianna could always tell when Sherlock wanted quiet, so he was positive she would know that such an action would require an analysis of its every detail.

Other than Adrianna or Mycroft, though, Sherlock was alone. Not a friend to his name, no adults to trust when things got bad. Nothing. And he wasn't particularly upset by it all - he really enjoyed being alone. But sometimes he would wonder why he couldn't have been born in a position where he could have a few friends to play with at recess or to invite over for birthdays. Everyone else had them, so why not him? Even Myc had a small group that would come over for studying parties. The thought of being friendless always put him in a bad mood, so it would be pushed away as quickly as possible.

Sherlock dug through his closet to find a comfortable pair of trousers before picking up his violin to practice a few pieces by Bach. He played a few he knew by heart already - letting the music wash over him and sweep him up into a peaceful place with no time - before tackling a more difficult piece for an hour. Once he had three lines and four bars completely memorized, he placed the instrument back in its case and went to lie on the bed and think.

He wasn't sure how long he stayed there, but before he knew it Mycroft was back home and trudging to his room. Sounds like he talked to that ex of his, unsuccessfully, Sherlock thought. Mycroft's footsteps always became a bit less delicate when he had a stressful day.

Sherlock pocketed his library card from the top of his dresser and headed out of his room, down the hall to his brother's dwelling. The door was shut and Mycroft could be heard inside, sighing and moping about. Sherlock made no point to politely enter the room; he opened the door and made himself at home on the end of the bed, sitting with crossed legs facing toward the older boy. Mycroft peeked at Sherlock through his fingers, an annoyed look creeping over his face.

"Lockie, do you mind?" he whispered with a hint of aggression. The younger boy gave his brother a look of feigned sympathy. Mycroft wasn't buying it though, and it soon fell off Sherlock's face.

"Not really. I'll wait until you get Mary out of your head. Do make it quick though; library closes in a couple hours." he poked Mycroft's hand with a delicate finger before folding his hands under his chin to watch his older brother's reaction.

Another sigh escaped Mycroft's mouth. "I wasn't thinking about... Mary." his brief pause only confirmed Sherlock's suspicions.

"mmmmmhm and I wasn't hoping that I could find a new book about pirates today. Something like Treasure Island would be nice." Sherlock gave his brother another poke. "I even found my good trousers so you would be happy. See?" he jumped from the bed and gestured to his pants. "And they're actually clean. You should be chuffed as chips."

Mycroft rolled his eyes but couldn't stop the grin from spreading on his face. "Yes. Well done, I'll be sure to give you an award for that later. Perhaps tea at Buckingham Palace will suffice. When did you want to head out?"

"This morning. But you were too busy so I'll settle for three minutes from now instead." he headed to the door as Mycroft grabbed his umbrella and wallet. "And Myc, I'll hold you to that. Tea in Buckingham Palace; I choose whether or not I wish to wear pants, though." a grin spread across his little face before he turned to leave the room.

"That'll be the day," Mycroft called after him. "I'm sure we'll both be standing in the palace, me in a suit and you without pants. I can see it now." he laughed as he followed the younger boy out the house and towards the library.