A/N: Hey guys! So, this is my first story for this very loveable fandom, and I really hope you enjoy it :) Mycroft is my favourite character and I like to believethere was a time where he and Sherlock got along, so here is a short story from their youth. In my version of events, their parents are rather neglectful.I would love to know what you think, constructive criticism is welcome, but this is my first story for the fandom so I'm very nervous XD There's some angst, some comfort and some humour.
Anyway, I'll shut up now. I hope you like it and please review if possible :) xx
Monster
A twelve year old Mycroft returned home from boarding school for the holidays only to be greeted with a house in darkness. It was late at night, and Father had just sent the driver to collect Mycroft from the station. Mummy and Father Holmes had never really paid much attention to their children, so Mycroft wasn't at all surprised they weren't up to greet him. The only person Mycroft was really looking forward to seeing was his five year old brother, Sherlock.
Mycroft sighed with relief as he switched the light on in his bedroom. It was always nice to be back in his own room away from the rowdy nuisances at school who were supposedly his 'room mates'. Mycroft enjoyed nothing more than sleeping soundly in his own bed, no disturbances. No such luck.
The lump under the covers on Mycroft's bed told the older Holmes' boy that his own personal little nuisance had once again decided to penetrate Mycroft's fortress of solitude. Mycroft sighed once more – this time with distain – and placed his bags down before heading over to the bed, hands on his hips.
"Sherlock" he said sternly. The lump didn't move. Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Sherlock, I know you're under there." Again, there was no response. Mycroft sighed, pretending to give up. "Well I suppose I must be wrong, I suppose I can just sit right here then" he said, slowly lowering his body down towards the lump.
"No!" A small voice squeaked, and the lump started to scramble towards the top of the bed. Suddenly, Sherlock's mop of black curls appeared from beneath the sheets. "You could have crushed me!" he accused.
Mycroft stood up and gave his brother an unimpressed look "For goodness sake, Sherlock, I am not over weight!" he argued.
"Perhaps not" Sherlock said as he crumpled the edge of bed sheet up in his tiny fists and fiddled with it incessantly "but you've put on a couple of pounds since I last saw you"
Mycroft scoffed and stuck his nose in the air to suggest he had no idea what Sherlock was talking about, but he subconsciously folded his arms across his middle all the same.
"What are you doing in my bed anyway?" Mycroft asked, trying to change the subject.
"It's back again" Sherlock whispered, as he pulled the bed cover up to just beneath his nose.
"What is?" Mycroft asked with a frown.
"The monster" Sherlock stated as if it was obvious "the one that hides in my wardrobe!"
Mycroft rolled his eyes once more. "Sherlock, you are too old to be scared of monsters!" he lightly scolded his brother. "They are not real!"
"But it is real, Mycroft!" the little boy argued "I saw him again, I swear!"
Mycroft opened his mouth to continue his rant as to why there was certainly not a monster in Sherlock's room, but he paused at the look of pure fear in his little brother's eyes. Mycroft closed his mouth and smiled sadly Sherlock– the little boy was so incredibly smart for his age, yet he still sometimes fell into the normal traps of children his age.
Mycroft sat on the edge of the bed and patted the spot beside him. Sherlock crawled over, but instead scooted his way straight into Mycroft's lap – Mycroft was his big brother, invincible in Sherlock's eyes, he would keep protect him.
"What does this monster look like?" Mycroft asked.
"I'm not sure, I only see him when it's dark" Sherlock explained seriously "but he's tall, and he has very long arms" he said stretching out his own.
"Mmm" Mycroft mused. "Well, I suppose I better get rid of him for you" he said with a smile, and he placed Sherlock down on the floor and walked towards the door.
"No, Mycroft, don't!" Sherlock called after him "What if he attacks you? Don't be a hero, Mycroft!"
The older boy laughed. "I'm sure I can handle him, Sherlock" Mycroft said as he picked up his torch. "But you stay here, if you're so worried"
"No, I'm coming with you" Sherlock said determinedly "If I am to be a pirate, then I must become more brave" he said.
Mycroft smiled. "Alright, but stay close to me, okay?" he said, deciding to play along to Sherlock's beliefs.
Sherlock nodded and immediately latched himself onto Mycroft's side, gripping his brother's shirt tightly. Mycroft placed an arm around Sherlock's shoulders in comfort and the brothers started to head down the dark hall. Mycroft switched on his torch to guide their way, and the boys tiptoed through the house so as not to disturb their parents.
When they came to Sherlock's room, Mycroft slowly pushed the door with one hand and it opened with a whining creak. Sherlock somehow managed to attach himself even closer to Mycroft as the older boy entered the room ahead of him.
Mycroft could have simply turned the light on to show Sherlock that the so called monster was in fact just one of Sherlock's jackets and the shadow of some branches outside, but instead he decided to have a little fun.
"Come on out, monster" Mycroft beckoned as he entered further into the room, leaving Sherlock hiding at the door, but watching his older brother's every move. "Where are you?" Mycroft asked. "Are you…in the wardrobe!?" he jumped forward and whipped the doors open, but pretended there was nothing. "No..." he turned and scratched his head. "Are you…under the bed!" he ripped the sheets up quickly and ducked to look underneath, but again, there was nothing.
"Be careful, Mycroft" Sherlock whispered. "You might provoke him!"
"I'll be fine, Sherlock" Mycroft assured him. He spotted one of Sherlock's wooden pirate swords leaning against the wall. He went and picked it up. "I have a weapon now" he warned the non-existent being "Come out so I can make you walk the plank!"
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Mycroft, houses don't have planks"
"Oh, well I guess I'll just have to run him through!" Mycroft said as he lunged forward with the sword and prodded the pillows on the bed with in. "No, he's not hiding under there…"
"Maybe he left?" Sherlock suggested as he braved moving into the room; Mycroft would keep him safe, he trusted.
"Maybe…" Mycroft pondered. "Or maybe...he followed you to my room?"
"Yes, that would make sense" Sherlock agreed.
"C'mon, let's go!" Mycroft said excitedly as he grabbed his brother's hand and dragged him back to the older boy's room.
"I'm coming in too this time" Sherlock said "I want to show I'm just as brave as you"
Mycroft smiled at him "Alright, here, take the sword" he said handing it to Sherlock as they entered Mycroft's room. "Where shall we look first?" he asked.
"The wardrobe!" Sherlock said, poising the sword ready for attack.
"Right" Mycroft said sweeping forward. "Stay here and I'll open the doors first." Sherlock nodded and Mycroft placed his hands on the handles of the wardrobe, preparing himself for the reveal. "Got you!" Mycroft exclaimed as he opened the doors but then pretended to be dragged inside, and the doors shut.
"Mycroft!" Sherlock called in horror, believing his brother had been caught by the monster. "Let him go!" the little boy called as he tried to pull the doors open, but they were jammed shut. "Let my brother go or else I shall slit your throat" Sherlock threatened as he banged his fists against the wood.
Suddenly, the doors opened and Sherlock was met with the confusing sight of Mycroft simply laughing at him as he sat at the bottom of the wardrobe. Sherlock frowned and poked his head inside; there wasn't a monster at all!
"Oh, Mycroft!" the little boy snapped as he lunged at his brother and started hitting his shoulder "I thought you were hurt!"
"Ow, okay, I'm sorry!" Mycroft said, although he was still laughing. He took hold of Sherlock's fists to stop the hitting. "Just my little joke, brother mine"
"Well, it wasn't funny" Sherlock pouted. "You scared me; I thought you'd been caught!"
Mycroft smiled at the still innocent little boy and ran a hand through Sherlock's curls. "I'm sorry, I won't do it again" he promised. "But there really is no monster Sherlock, just a shadow, all you have to do is close your curtains and it won't bother you"
"Are you sure?" Sherlock asked, still uncertain.
Mycroft nodded "I'm sure, but I promise if there ever is a real monster, then I shall be there to protect you"
"Will you always protect me?" Sherlock asked quietly.
"Always" Mycroft smiled "And not just from monsters"
"Thank you and I'll always look out for you too!" Sherlock said and he hugged his brother tightly. Mycroft revelled in the rare hug – Sherlock wasn't often one to share such loving contact.
"C'mon, it really is time for bed now" Mycroft said as he managed to shuffle out of the wardrobe with Sherlock still in his arms.
"Mycroft, can I stay in your bed tonight anyway?" Sherlock asked sleepily – all the excitement had finally worn him out.
"Yes, of course" Mycroft said as he placed the small boy on the right side of the bed.
Mycroft went to get himself ready for bed, and when he returned Sherlock had worked his way to the middle of the bed and was lying spread-eagled across it. Mycroft smiled and shook his head – he wished Sherlock could stay so innocent forever, but the boy was proving to be a genius, it wouldn't be long now until he knew conventional horror story monsters were not real.
Mycroft scooped Sherlock up delicately and moved him over to the right side of the bed once more, and he himself climbed onto the left. It didn't take long for Sherlock to squirm his way back over to Mycroft and rest himself against his older brother's chest. Mycroft sighed with content as he placed an arm around his little brother and held him close.
"No monsters will ever hurt you" Mycroft promised in a whisper.
Nearly 30 years later, and Mycroft still liked to the think he was doing the best for his brother, keeping the 'monsters' away even though Sherlock didn't necessarily want his help. Whether those 'monsters' were the people in Moriarty's web, or the monster of temptation when it came to drugs, Mycroft always tried to assist his brother in any way he could, even if Sherlock wasn't aware.
Sherlock had John now, and the doctor helped keep the monsters at bay, and Mycroft was sometimes left to question what his purpose in his brother's life was anymore. However, Mycroft would worry, constantly, even if caring wasn't an advantage at all.