When Mycroft was ten and Sherlock was five, their parents hosted the huge annual Christmas party. Anyone who was anyone in London society was at that party. Mummy had told Mycroft to keep himself and Sherlock out of the way of the party. Mycroft had wanted to meet all the famous people and all the heads of state, but Mummy had told him he was too young and maybe when he was older he could. This was why Mycroft was upstairs lying on the floor of his room all alone and bored. He heard his door squeak open and he saw a little head of black curls poke around the door.
'Mycoff?' whispered Sherlock.
"Yes, Sherlock?"
"I can't sleep. Can I come in here with you?"
Mycroft sat up and motioned for Sherlock to come in. Sherlock came in, shutting Mycroft's door behind him and waddled over to where Mycroft was sitting. Mycroft reached out and picked him up and placed him in his lap. Sherlock giggled.
"Why can't you sleep?" Asked Mycroft as he ran his hand through Sherlock's thick mass of curls.
"Too many people. The noise. Can't sleep with all the noise they make." Mumbled Sherlock, "Mycoff? Can you go get me water? I'm thirsty, but I don't want to go downstairs. Too many people."
Mycroft sighed and removed Sherlock from his lap.
"Okay, but you stay here. I'll be right back."
Sherlock grinned up at his big brother and nodded.
Mycroft made his way down stairs and down the hall towards the kitchen. As he was walking past one of the rooms on the way to the kitchen he heard hushed whispers coming from inside. Letting his curiosity get the better of him he tiptoed up to the door and placed his ear to the door and listened. Just as he was about to pull away he heard his mum's voice. He listened even more closely. Then he heard Sherlock's name. As he listened longer he heard his mum begin to cry. She was talking about Sherlock. How he had corrupted her "sweet baby boy" (Mycroft) with his experiments (even at a young age Sherlock conducted numerous experiments with Mycroft.) She said that she and Daddy had been thinking of giving Sherlock away, but no one was willing to take in a child who was so "crazy" and "unlovable."
Mycroft felt anger building up inside him. How dare she say such horrible things about Sherlock! Mycroft had always been conducting experiments. In fact, if anyone had corrupted anyone with experiments it would have been Mycroft corrupting Sherlock. It was just that Mycroft was older and had learned how to hide his experiments better than Sherlock had. Mycroft began to feel tears well up in his eyes. He wiped them off on his sleeve and went to the kitchen to get Sherlock his water.
When he returned Sherlock tilted his head and furrowed his eyebrows as if he were thinking hard about something.
"Are you crying Mycoff?"
"No." replied Mycroft, "Just dust in my eye."
Sherlock put down his glass and waddled over to Mycroft and wrapped his arms around Mycroft. Mycroft picked Sherlock up and they snuggled into bed next to each other. Mycroft held Sherlock until they both fell asleep. Before he fell asleep Mycroft vowed that he would protect Sherlock and prove to his mum and anyone else that Sherlock wasn't unlovable. Sherlock had a heart, it was just sometimes hard to find, but it was there.