1980

"What's that noise, Daddy?" Mycroft asked tugging on his father's hand as a wailing came down the hall.

"That's your new baby brother."

"Why is he making that dreadful noise?" Mycroft placed his hands lightly over his ears to block out the wailing.

"He's crying, Mikey."

"Why?"

"Because babies can't talk so they cry to let you know that they need something."

"What does he need?"

"Well, he might be hungry, or he might need his nappy changing, or he might just want a cuddle."

"How long until he learns how to talk?"

"Probably about a year."

"A year?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so Mikey."

"Did it take me a year to learn how to talk?" Mycroft couldn't imagine not being able to speak.

"You were about nine months old."

"Why will it take him longer to learn to speak than it took me?"

"It won't necessarily, all babies are different, but normally it takes about a year."

"Oh dear."

"Don't look so worried Mikey."

"I don't think I want to be a big brother anymore."

Father knelt down in front of Mycroft. "But you are a big brother Mycroft. We can't just send the baby back."

"Mummy said that I had to take care of him and protect him."

"Yes, that's what big brothers do."

Mycroft bit his bottom lip nervously. "What if I'm not very good at it? What if I let him down?"

"You won't let him down, Mycroft. I promise. Now why don't you come and meet him?"

Mycroft sighed loudly. "Ok."

Father led him down the hall and opened the bedroom door. Mycroft peered around the door to where Mummy was sat up in bed, the sun was streaming in through the window. In her arms was a small wriggling bundle.

"Hello, dear. Come and meet your brother."

Mycroft tentatively crossed the room and stood on tiptoes beside the bed. Inside the bundle, he could see a tiny baby with dark brown hair. He lifted his hand and stroked the baby's soft, downy hair. "His hair is a different colour to mine."

"Would you like to hold him dear?" Mummy asked.

Mycroft hesitated for a moment before nodding. Daddy lifted him onto the bed and let him settle down beside Mummy. "You need to support his head with your elbow." Daddy lifted the baby from Mummy and gently deposited him Mycroft's arms.

Sherlock wriggled slightly in Mycroft's arms and he looked up at his parents nervously. "It's ok dear. He's just getting comfy."
Mycroft watched as the baby waved an arm around freeing himself from his blanket and wrapping his hand around his brother's finger. Mycroft gasped slightly and looked up at his parents.

"I think Sherlock likes you dear." Mummy said, wrapping an arm around her sons.

"Hello, Sherlock." He murmured quietly.