drawing and Mycroft's second dialogue by sashkah on tumblr

"Okay boys, so what did you do this time?"

Sherlock, in his pirate outfit and with bruised lips and skinned knees, crossed his arms in front of his chest, allowing an embarrassed Mycroft to do the explaining.

"He was pretending to be a pirate on his boat. He fell off a bench." Mycroft lied, placing an arm over Sherlock's shoulder.

Mycroft knew he had to lie. If he didn't, the repercussions would be severe and he wanted to protect his younger brother.

In fact, forgetting all the advice to not get into trouble at school, Sherlock had got into a fight. Mycroft knew it was not his brother's fault; if anything, it was his own fault. Sherlock was, in his own way, a portrait of his older brother. And Mycroft knew how much trouble and bullying he had to take when he was Sherlock's age. Of course, knowing Sherlock as well as he did, he should have guesses his brother would not stand still when called a 'freak.' His brother had battled. He came out of it rather injured, but at least he had kept his dignity.

The pirate's hat had been Mycroft's idea. His mother wouldn't be half as mad if she was convinced Sherlock's wounds had not gotten him into trouble. Stepping out of the line at school was something his mother would not indulge.

Their mother dismissed them with a gesture of her hand, warning Sherlock to be more careful next time and grounding him after school for a month.

[]

Looking at his brother talking to Molly, Mycroft consulted his watch. Everything was set in motion for the big fall. After the trouble his brother had gotten himself into - with his own help, had Mycroft not provided so much vital information about Sherlock to Moriarty - Mycroft was nervous, expecting everything went according to plan. He could see in his brother's eyes the pain of the lie. To protect his friends he would have to become a fake to everyone. He did not expect Moriarty to be complacent. When contacted by his brother, Mycroft had not hesitated to help. After all, that's what he had always been doing, since they were kids, wasn't it? Covering up when Sherlock got into trouble. His little brother, after years of distance and resentment, had come to him again.

There was the fall. The tears. The blood.

Sherlock was now sitting on the floor of the morgue, blood covering his face. It wasn't for real this time, of course. Mycroft thought that, nevertheless, this was the time to make other changes.

Sherlock recognised the road as the car drove away from the life he had led for so many years.

"Why are you taking me there?" he asked.

Mycroft could tell he was a bit upset, but had other things on his mind at the moment.

"Sherlock, you know as well as I do that she is one of the only people we can trust right now. She loves you…and she worries."

Sherlock didn't say a word.

As they got out of the car the front door opened, and their mother stood there, looking at her two sons, so grown up, so apart.

But, instead of what she was used to see in the last years, Mycroft was holding his younger brother by the waist and had the same guilty expression on his face, just like when they were children.

"Oh boy, what did you get yourselves into this time?" she asked, covering her mouth with her hand at the sight of Sherlock's face covered in blood.

Sherlock was wearing the same expression he always did, nonchalant. It was once more Mycroft who did the explaining.

"He fell off…" Mycroft started.

His mother interrupted him.

"Oh, you are not going to give me that same excuse again, are you?" she asked. "I can tell when my kids are lying, you know? I just pretend I don't."

And getting close to both she embraced them in a long, warm hug. When had they become so tall?

"Come inside." she demanded, dragging them by the hand. "I have just baked a delicious cake."

As they entered the house Mycroft rolled his eyes. There was always someone willing to ruin his diet.