The massive blue eyes stared at Mycroft from Sherlock's spot in the corner.
"Please, My, help me" but another kick hit the boy in the face, and Mycroft retreated, shutting the door on the child's tears. His stomach sank as he tried to ignore the little boy's sobbing. He couldn't block it out. "Daddy PLEASE!" Sherlock screamed periodically, his voice muffled by what Mycroft assumed was a quickly swelling lip. The teenager went to his bedroom. He would wait until Sherlock's punishment stopped, then he would go to him and patch him up. Just like always. Mycroft tried to continue with his homework, but his brother was being more vocal than usual. He couldn't concentrate on molecules when the eight year old was crying. Mycroft simply put his head on the desk and tried to block the sounds of meat being slammed against the wall.
Half an hour later, Sherlock was still lying on his spot on the floor. His father had gone away, leaving him with the promise of further punishment if he repeated the incident. Sherlock couldn't even remember what he had done wrong. He looked up as Mycroft came in.
"Heya Sherlock" Mycroft whispered. He went to the boy and knelt down next to him. The older boy saw the blood, and the bruises covering his skin and felt a pang of guilt.
"Why didn't you help me?"
"I couldn't"
"Why not, though?"
"Because it would have made it worse"
"But I asked you" Sherlock's eyes were wide in confusion, pain and rejection.
"I know Lock. I'm sorry. Don't cry, Sherlock" Mycroft put his hand on his brother's shoulder.
"You should have looked after me. You promised Mummy"
"I'm sorry"
"You promised" Sherlock whimpered.
"Listen to me, Sherlock. When you're older, you'll understand why I didn't. We care too much, you and me. We need to stop caring. Caring is not an advantage, Lock, you hear me?" Mycroft had begun to shout on his last sentence. Sherlock balked away from the noise. He detested shouting. He felt worthless. Not even Mycroft cared enough to save him. Not even Mycroft.
