Mycroft wasn't always this way, he used to be a kind caring older brother, it wasn't until his early teens he ended up like this. He'd just learnt to detach himself from his feelings. There was no need for them.

Many many years ago around the time of Sherlocks birth.

Their father had never been a caring man, nor their mother, it wasn't as though they would hit Mycroft, or even shout abuse at him, instead they simply ignored him. It wasn't as though Mycroft minded, well even if he did it's not like he could of said anything, they would have simply, blanked him.

When he found out about Sherlock being born he was overjoyed! Who wouldn't want a younger brother to speak to! To play with! It really was Mycroft's idea of heaven, He'd finally have someone to be with, maybe, just maybe he wouldn't be quite as lonely.

Along with this Mycroft was worried, how would Sherlock take his life, would he care about being ignored? Would he be ignored? Or was it just Mycroft who got that treatment. No. He pushed those thoughts out of his head, he didn't need to think about that, there was no need for him too. Quickly he moved on, looking forward to his brothers birth, and their he was. 9 Months on, sat outside his mother's hospital room waiting for the birth of his baby brother. Of course his father wasn't there, he was at home busy with a work meeting or something like that, any way he had wanted a nice little daughter, Sherlock was just a disappointment to him, Mycroft had his suspicions that if it was possible his mother would not be there either. It broke Mycroft's 8 year old heart in too, he was young but he knew it wasn't correct for a family to ignore them, to not show up at his baby brother birth.

'Sir?' Their butler, Jeffery called, Mycroft looked up 'He's here sir, do you want to see him?'

Mycroft jumped up eagerly 'Yes please!'

Jeffrey laughed at his eagerness 'Come along then'

He walked into the room grinning from ear to ear 'C-Can I hold him?' He stuttered to his mother.

She had sighed at him 'If you must, I honestly don't see what all the fuss is, just another birth, nothing special'

Mycroft gaped at her, how could she think that? But then again, it was his mother, it seemed his baby brothers life wouldn't be very different to his own.

3 days later

Sherlock was arriving home today, Mycroft was leaping all over the house, his father told him off of course but Mycroft was too excited to care about his harsh words.

Sherlock arrived an hour later, however much to Mycroft's dismay his baby brother was carted off to Jeffrey, Mycroft wasn't even allowed to hold him, with tears in his eyes he retreated to his room

This was not the last time Mycroft would not be allowed to see Sherlock, In Sherlock's first few months of growing up Mycroft was banned from seeing him, he'd only get a look in when the servants were travelling with the small child in his arms too and from rooms even at dinner time his parents didn't like Sherlock to eat with them as he was 'A nuisance, pathetic weak child, Messy, an idiot, he's 8 months already why can't he fed himself?' Ect.

It made Mycroft's stomach boil with anger.

When Sherlock turned 2 Mycroft was 10, he hadn't spent too much time with Sherlock, so when he came home after a bad day of being badly bullied at school and being ignored by his parents he went to seek comfort in his younger brother.

Every now and then Mycroft would sneak in Sherlock's room and play with him, or simply teach him stuff, even though he was only two he had already mastered writing and simple reading. He had never been caught before which is why he wasn't worried, however, when he was sneaking out of Sherlock's room this time he was careless and didn't notice his father walking towards him. Just as he got around the corner he bumped into his Dad 'S-sir' He stammered out.

His Dad grunted before pulling him by his collar up so he was face to face with him, his legs dangling in the air 'You went to see Sherlock I presume?' He hissed the name Sherlock out as though it was poisonous.

'Y-yes dad.' Mycroft realised his mistake but it was too late

'What did you call me?'' His father hissed 'I am not your father. Never call me that' He whispered, which in some ways was far worse the shouting could ever be, the threat was too great.

Mycroft nodded meekly, but it wasn't enough for...for that man, he dropped to the floor with enough force to wind him, his 'Dad' then started kicking MYcroft in the ribs until he passed out.

He awoke an hour or so later in agony, he'd seen bruises on his brother before, but he'd never never thought that his dad would of done this, but thinking about it, those bruises fit his fathers fists perfectly. Mycroft sobbed, sobbed for his own pain but cried for his brothers, he was two, t-this wasn't right, he shouldn't have that pain.

He moved to re-dress a half hour later, being painfully slow he made his way down to dinner 'You're late' His mother stated

'Sorry Mother I-' He hissed in pain 'Fell asleep'

His father nodded, he guessed that was a good enough excuse for now.

They just finished dinner, he was leaving when his father grabbed his arm 'If you go to Sherlock room again' He seethed 'I. Will. Kill. Him.' He seethed. Mycroft noded before running away.

This was the reason Mycroft never spoke to Sherlock any more, this was also the reason he moved to boarding school as soon as he could, he didn't want to risk his brothers life, he just couldn't do it.