Author's Note: This was just a short scene that got out of hand. Sorry for the short chapters, especially in the beginning. Story is finished though and I'll get them posted as I type them.
CHAPTER ONE
Thirteen year old Mycroft Holmes climbed into the waiting car, joining his younger brother after school, grateful for the Christmas break. He enjoyed school at times, but he'd had enough studying and coursework; the time to relax would be much appreciated. As he slid into the back seat, he noticed Sherlock had been crying again. He tried so hard, but Sherlock had struggled through his first year of school so far. Sherlock's sobs had faded into an occasional sniffle, but his eyes were still red and his cheeks streaked with tears.
"You okay, little brother?" he asked quietly. Sympathy had never been his strongest suit, but to a point he could empathize with Sherlock. He had eventually managed to hide it, to act 'normal' enough people didn't judge him so quickly, but poor Sherlock said everything that came to mind, acted on impulse and reaped the consequences later. He had yet to learn to separate himself from the bullying and name calling; he took it all very personally. As a result, going to school day after day with people who didn't understand him had become his own personal hell.
Sherlock sniffed and nodded, curling himself into a little ball on the backseat. "I'll be fine," he answered shakily.