Hello, again. I wrote this a couple of months back, using the people around me, which is a terrible thing to do in terms of this story... You'll find out why in later chapters. This probably sounds like other growing up life story things but I didn't have them in mind when I wrote them. I simply thought about why Sherlock could be so against people and this is what I thought of. I hope you enjoy it! Oh, I don't own Sherlock. All rights belong to their respective owners.
The Truth About Sherlock Holmes
His Childhood
'I would like you to meet me at Speedy's, Sherlock. -MH'
'What exactly for, brother? -SH'
'I need to talk to you about something most pressing. -MH'
'Go on. If it doesn't interest me here, I'm sure your voice will not make it any more interesting. -SH'
'It is about our childhood, Sherlock. There is a few things that I have told you which are not, strictly, true. -MH'
'I'm sure that is the lie, Mycroft. -SH'
'Why don't you find out? -MH'
'Okay. But I'm warning you; my mood isn't great at the moment, Mycroft. If you bore me in any way, I'll be back up here to practice my violin... I'll be there in 5. -SH'
Chapter 1
Mycroft meets Sherlock
(221B Baker Street)
Sherlock threw down his skull. He'd been examining it for the past hour but still could not find a single clue to how many times Mrs Hudson had cleaned his flat in the past week. He was sure that it was 15 times, but the rate of dust on the skull would prove his theory. However, at this point in time; no dust had collected on the skull. "You incompetent piece of SH..." John stomped into the flat holding 7 heavily packed bags of shopping.
"Well, thanks for your help." John was agitated; Sherlock could tell. He could see his eyebrows rising higher up his face and the anger behind his eyes increasing. "Do you-know, how long-it takes-to get-OUR shopping?" John's voice repeatedly stopped. He was obviously out of breath. Even he couldn't manage to carry 7 bags of food and essentials easily through the centre of town.
"I'm off out." Sherlock rose quickly form his crouching position in his armchair and flung his dark coat over himself. "Mycroft wants to," He paused attempting to find the correct words, "Tell me the truth about some things." He tightened the navy blue scarf around his neck, but only so far that his face managed to turn even paler than it was before. "Laterz" Sherlock called to John as he jumped down the flight of stairs. John stood silently for a moment with his hands placed upon his hips. He then let out a small sigh and carried 3 of the over-flowing bags into the kitchen.
(Speedy's Cafe- Below 221B)
Sherlock had grabbed his coffee. He made sure that this one was strong so that he could pour every piece of hatred that he had for his brother into it. He also had 5 sachets of sugar instead of 2 and this coffee had milk. He usually had his teas and coffees black, so this was a meeting that Sherlock did not want to attend. When Sherlock had caught eye of his brother; he slowly paced forward towards the table. Mycroft greeted Sherlock with a brief handshake and nod of the head, and then returned to his seat. Sherlock slumped himself down into his chair, he hated having meetings with his brother. Let alone one's about their past.
"Sherlock." Mycroft scrolled his eyes upon his brother's state. His conclusion; he looked dreadful.
"Mycroft." Sherlock had always enjoyed mimicking his brother's stupid tones. He had done it many a time when they were younger. Mycroft rolled his eyes at his brother's immaturity. It was always the same thing from Sherlock.
"Sherlock. Why do you always have to act in such a childish manner?" Mycroft scowled. "Any way. Do you know why I am here?" He now placed his hands together on top of his folded legs.
Sherlock sighed deeply. He had always hated it when his brother did this to him. "Well, you asked me to come, so surely you know. On the other hand, you told me that this discussion was about our childhood?" He sat in the chair, straight backed and watching his brother constantly.
Mycroft sipped a small amount of tea from his mug and then sighed. "I'm here to tell you the truth about," The next word he emphasised, "your" And then returned to his normal tone, "childhood, Sherlock." He could see no movement in Sherlock's eyes, which he anticipated.
"What? You're here to tell me that my whole life was a complete lie?" Sherlock rose from his seat and placed his hands into his pockets. "Nice try Mycroft." With a small wink, Sherlock turned to leave.
"Father used to beat you. Do you not remember? Do you not remember those nights where you crawled up in your room and hurt yourself? Do you not remember the constant bullying from everyone around you?" Mycroft tilted his head indicating to Sherlock that he wanted him to sit back down. He paused to see if his brother would turn around. "I had to make you forget it eventually. You were having too many nightmares, as I recall." Mycroft's tone was now different. His head didn't move as he watched his brother re-take the seat opposite with his eyes.
"When was my last true memory then, Mycroft, if this indeed is true?" Sherlock gulped down a large amount of coffee. He needed it. He couldn't believe a word that Mycroft was saying, however he was very intrigued by it.
Mycroft tilted his head backwards, trying to find the information Sherlock demanded. "Your 4th birthday." He replaced his head to its natural position and stared right into the man opposite's eyes. "I was teaching you algebra..." Sherlock started to remember everything.