Disclaimer: I sadly do not own Sherlock.

Also this is my first Omega!verse fanfic, so any feedback you have would be greatly appreciated! :)

"Sherlock, you have to be reasonable!" Mycroft shouted as Sherlock banged his feet and fists against the 19th century woven rug.

Sherlock was throwing one of his usual tantrums, today's fit was all because mummy wouldn't let him go to some art gallery, showcasing an exhibit on the art of murder. For God's sake he was only seven! Mycroft being a very superior eight years older, he understood the risks of unleashing Sherlock onto the busy streets of London.

"You cannot just do as you please. One day when you will learn to see things more clearly, and until then the answer is no."

"You are just saying that because you don't want to take me!" screamed Sherlock his face red with exhaustion. Though it was true, Mycroft had absolutely no interest in dragging his bratty brother around a bustling city when he could be doing far more interesting things.

" And you're getting fat!" Sherlock said begrudgingly once he realized that Mycroft was headed to the door and that he had already lost the argument. Sherlock had been a difficult child since the day he was born. His first word had been no. His second was idiot. And by the time he had taken his first steps he had also started had to read...in German. So simply put...Sherlock had always been a difficult child.

Mycroft being the oldest alpha in the family, had been put in charge of the family shortly after he fully presented, and unfortunately for Sherlock, that included him. Mycroft being an alpha was particularly protective of Sherlock, he was the younger of the two and was an omega, and even though it shouldn't have made much of a difference in the way Mycroft treated him, Mycroft still felt more protective than what he assumed was normal.

After Mycroft was born an alpha, everyone assumed that his younger brother would follow suit. They were all surprised to say the least when Sherlock was born with a round omega mark. Every alpha, omega, and beta had their own unique mark on the nape of their neck, alphas with a triangle, omegas with a circle or an oval, and betas with a square or rectangular mark. Inside every mark was a distinct pattern of swirls and a crest that would match their future soul bonds mark. Once a soul bond was made, it could never be broken. Though it was said those who never found their soul bond would live out their days in misery. Luckily for Mycroft he had already found his soul bond. One day he was just walking down the street and it hit him, like a pile of bricks. He looked up and he saw the most beautiful boy he had ever seen. He had dark brown eyes and hair to match. Though that didn't mean he liked Greg right away. He found Greg far too rebellious for an omega, without manners, and beneath him in almost every way. Greg didn't like Mycroft very much at first either. Greg viewed Mycroft as stuck up, harsh, stubborn, and basically like every other wealthy trust fund baby he'd ever met. And on more than once they thought that maybe they had made a mistake and they weren't meant to be after all. But of course they were and a couple of arguments wasn't going to change that. Though Mycroft and Greg had been friends now for a year and half, it took them six months to even get used to the idea that they had found each other and yet another six months until they actually became friends. Mycroft wasn't sure if they would ever have a romantic relationship, but he hoped that it was at least a possibility.

In fact that was the real reason Mycroft didn't want to take Sherlock to that stupid exhibit, he was hoping to spend the day with Greg. Because as much as he had despised Greg in the beginning, he now often felt himself enjoying and craving Greg's company. Craving it so often, it was distracting, Greg was in his every thought, he was there every time Mycroft let his mind wander, and in every one of his dreams. Whether he was wondering what Greg was up to, or how he was, or if Greg was thinking of him too, Mycroft's mind always seemed to have a section dedicated to Greg. Was this how it would be forever? Constant wonder and the constant disappointment of not knowing. Again Mycroft had allowed his thoughts wander to the unimportant.

Though Right now he had to deal with Sherlock's tantrum and the havoc he was sure to be wreaking off in some far corner of the mansion. By the time he was able to find Sherlock he had already broken two priceless vases and set one of the maids on fire...he would most likely be tasked with to find a new maid by the morning. Sherlock was sulking in one of his favorite places, a dark, dingy, and dusty cupboard underneath the south stairs. That was were he had his favorite books, objects of interest, and his tattered yellow blanket stored. Mycroft knocked quietly on the dark oak wood the made up the door.

"Sherlock, it's My, let me in."

"No! You're too fat to fit in here anyway. You would probably squish me just trying to get in." Mycroft ignored the fact that the "cupboard" was at least fifteen feet wide and had more than enough room for the both of them.

"Sherlock, please." He said, completely exasperated from trying to argue with the most stubborn seven-year old on the planet.

"Fine, but I'm not helping you get out if you get stuck." He said as Mycroft saw the door crack open just enough to let a sliver of light through.

Mycroft being tall and a shockingly average weight squeezed through the tiny passageway and into Sherlock's world. It had a poster of Einstein and another of Black Beard hanging on opposite walls. As well as a hundred or so books piled in every corner, with Sherlock sitting on a splayed and ridiculously worn yellow blanket holding his only plush, a bear who was affectionately called Willy.

Curling his legs so that he was sitting crossed legged in front of him, Mycroft started. "Sher. We need to talk about your behavior. What is the number one rule?"

"No murder?"

Mycroft sighed. "No, the other number one rule."

"No fire..." Sherlock replied under his breath, rolling his eyes. "It's not like I set anything important on fire!"

"Oh, thank goodness it was just the maid!" He said raising his sarcastic voice so that it bounced off every wall. "Sherlock, the rule is no fire. Ever."

Sherlock's red teary eyes looked up at My, his hair an absolute mess, and his flush wet cheeks betraying him.

"Come here Sher." Mycroft said using his hands to make an inward motion as Sherlock crawled his way into Mycroft's lap. "Is this really about the exhibit? " My asked as he smoothed Sherlock's mop of curls that lay hap hazardly on his head.

All though Sherlock was a difficult, he also had moments of sweetness, and moments where instead of acting stubborn and spoiled he acted like a normal child, upset, affectionate, and occasionally scared.

"I don't want to go away. Please don't send me away, I'll be good I promise, no more fires, and I'll ask before I do an experiment. But please My, don't make me go away."

"Sherlock, what makes you think I'm sending you away? Of course you can stay here, you can stay here forever, if you so please." Why in God's name did Sherlock think he was going to get sent away, no matter how many things he broke or nerves he got on Mycroft still loved him.

"I heard mummy talking to Mrs. Hudson. She said she was going to send me away, because I make too much trouble and I'm always making messes." Sherlock said with tears now streaming down his cheeks, while he rubbed his eyes, making him look more and more like the child he was with every passing second.

Oh Sherlock, how could he ever think Mycroft would consent to him being sent away! I mean of course they had had their spats, and at times Mycroft had been a little harsh with his words, but he would never let Sherlock out of his sight.

"Shhh, oh Sher, I won't send you away." He cooed, still smoothing down the wild curls, feeling little Sherlock relax little by little with every caress. Once Sherlock was asleep, My gathered him up blanket and all and put him into his bed making sure he was tucked in tight, just the way he liked it.

As Mycroft paced down the halls, he wondered if his mother had truly said those things, of it was a misunderstanding, or if Sherlock had simply dreamt the whole thing up. It had to be one of the latter, she wouldn't send Sherlock away, would she? She hadn't sent Mycroft away when he was his age, although, she would have had a tough time convincing her alpha mate to send away his only alpha son. Not that they had much of a relationship before his so-called "tragic" death. To be truthful, Mycroft was glad that he wasn't around anymore, he was a cruel man, filled with cutting words, cold stares, and hard fists. Luckily Sherlock had been spared most of the punishment with him being only a toddler at the time of their fathers demise. But Mycroft had felt the full blow, through out his childhood. No matter what had happened Mycroft could be blamed...Italy had a bad election, lock Mycroft in the closet. Or a stock crashed, or someone got in the way of an assassination, or Father was frustrated, beating Mycroft was always seemed like a good option. Thinking back maybe it would have been nice to go to some posh school instead of living in this horrid house where secrets lined the walls and all the rooms had haunting memories. The more he thought about it the more he realized how like his mother this whole idea sounded.

"Master Mycroft." One of the household staff said as he passed.

With a glare on his face that could freeze the most intimidating criminal in his place, he turned and said. "Where is my mother?"

Shaking the girl no older than nineteen replied. "sh..sh..she's in her dressing room, Master Mycroft."

Without even a nod he continued down the dimly lit hall, keeping the pace he had raced at before. Bursting into the large room, filled with angry memories of his past and the heartbreak of seeing his little brother cry.

"Out!" he shouted at the few staff that tended his mother.

As they scurried out of the room, his mother glared at him with her pale green eyes. "Was that really necessary, I think they would have responded to a please leave."

"What is this I hear of you planning on sending Sherlock away?" He said, his fists clenched against his legs.

As she turned back to the mirror and adjusted he hair, she replied. "Oh it's nothing, Mrs. Hudson was simply telling me about this school, for troublesome omegas, such as Sherlock. It's a beautiful facility, with people who are trained to deal with children like Sherlock. Really, My, I had planned on discussing it with you but a spot opened up and I took it. I think in time you will see it's best for everyone."

Mycroft felt like steam was about to fly out his ears, nostrils flared and a pounded fist on the desk made his anger clear. " Don't play stupid mother, it doesn't suit you. We both know those "facilities" are little more than holding cells for unwanted omegas. We have all heard the stories of abuse, indoctrination, and worst of all the submission lessons! How could you even dare to think of send your child to a place like that!"

" He is my son, and I will do what I see fit for him." she said, turning towards him, keeping a calm face.

Mycroft couldn't help but growl. "And he is my brother and I am the alpha here. If you make me choose, I will choose him every time, the only person I would consent to sending away, is you."

"Mycroft Holmes you wouldn't..."

"Oh wouldn't I, as far as I am concerned, I own this estate and everything in it, I will decide who stays and who goes and I say Sherlock will not leave. As for you, I want you gone by morning, I will give you a small parting sum, but you can forget ever setting eyes on Sherlock again."

With her eyes wide, never having seen this very intimidating side of Mycroft before, she stammered. "You cant seriously believe you can kick me out of my own home"

"As I said Mother, this is not your home, this belongs to me. I want you out." He said spitting out the word, as if they were poison in his mouth.

He turned and left the room, slamming the door so hard that he was sure he heard the wood crack. He headed straight for his room, pacing, wanting to punch someone, but also feeling like he wanted to collapse. But instead, he texted Greg.

I need you...Now- MH

Greg had been feeling anxious all evening, he figured it was the bond but he couldn't be sure. Their bond hadn't been...made official yet. So until they bonded during one of Greg's heats they only had a pre-bond. But some emotions still filtered through, if one of them was nervous about a big test or worried about something, the other would know. That's why when Greg's phone buzzed, he had already had his shoes on to go and find out what was going on. He snuck out his bedroom window, which wasn't overly hard to do considering he was on the ground floor, and jumped in his old beater and raced over to the Holmes estate.

All though Greg had only been inside a handful of times, he knew the route well, just outside of town, all he had to do was follow a windy side road until he reached the castle. (or at least that's how it looked to him.)

I'm outside, let me in! It's bloody freezing out here. - Greg

Mycroft raced down the stairs and to the back door. Usually only staff used this entrance, but it also was quite helpful when sneaking people in. As soon as Mycroft reached the strangely plain door he started to clam down. Even more so when he opened the door and was able to see Greg, that was one of the perks of having a pre-bond, whenever one of them was upset, the others presence had the ability to sooth and relax their worries. Greg sensing his anxiousness reached out, and pulled him close, holding him there just long enough.

"Now will you tell me what happened, you've had me worked up all night!" Greg said patting My's back.

With a heavy heart Mycroft told him the story.

"I have never felt like that, I was so...so... protective, it was like it wasn't even me talking, I was just kind of watching it happen. A bystander to whole thing."

Greg placed his elbows on his knees, and used his hands to rub his face, as if he was trying to wipe the emotions off of it.

"Well at least Sherlock is safe." Greg had never really liked the kid, but no one deserved to go to an omega home, no one.

Even though he was listening, the whole time Mycroft was retelling the story, all Greg could think about is how very alpha My was acting. And how, by some trick of fate Mycroft was his Alpha. Not officially, well hell, not even unofficially, but in some almost real way he was. Greg could tell the effects the event was still having on My, he was shaking and seemed scared of who he had become, but he also knew Mycroft did exactly what needed to be done.

"I can stay here tonight, if that would help?" Greg said staring at his feet.

And before Mycroft even knew what he was doing, he was saying "Please?"

Once Mycroft could see the morning sunlight filter in, it hit him. His whole night came rushing back, Sherlock crying, the fighting, holding Greg so tightly it must have hurt...Now he looked around his barren room only to see the few things Greg had brought with him scattered around. His coat slung over a chair in the corner, his keys thrown onto My's desk, and Greg himself, somehow missing his shirt, sprawled out on Mycroft's bed. Mycroft had never seen the omega with out his shirt, he was surprisingly muscular, for being as tall and meek as he was. My was sure that if Greg ever wanted he could pack quite the punch. It was so strange to see his mark, usually it was covered by his shirt collar or his ridiculously old green hoodie that he wore around. Sometime he would get a peek at it, but never anything yet there it was almost identical to Mycroft's, except for the shape, the same swirls and there planted in the middle his matching crest.

"Greg, come on, it's time to get up, its half past ten. " He said rubbing little circles into his back.

Greg simply rolled over. "I don't want to. I'm tired, let me sleep." He sounded like and old man in the morning, something so different from his usual, deep but soft voice. As if only his voice had grown old and left the body behind.

"Fine, I will go and eat without you, just come down when you're ready." Looking to Greg for a response before poking him.

"Okay, okay, I will." He whined, waving him off. Guess he wasn't much of a morning person, thought a slightly amused Mycroft.

As Mycroft passed his mothers chambers, he saw that the room had been cleaned, sheets changed, and that the rooms had been fully emptied of everything belonging to his mother. He felt a sense of relief ,betrayal, but also a sort of sadness as he made his way to Sherlock's room. He opened the heavy wood door, and peered in at a supposedly sleeping Sherlock.

"I'm not sleeping." Called a young voice.

After Mycroft entered the cluttered room, filled with toys, and books, and experiments he made his way through the labyrinth of mess, he sat on the bed, next to Sherlock.

"Sher, I have something that I need to tell you. "

Sherlock looked at him with his big pale eyes. "I already know mummy's gone. I watched her leave this morning."

"And how do you feel about that?" Mycroft asked gently, with his hands in his lap.

"I'm fine. She was going to send me away, anyway." he said, with his lip trembling before bursting into tears. Sherlock threw his arms around his brother and cried.

"I'm sorry about what I said My, you're not getting fat." He choked still in sobs.

Mycroft had never been good with children, he never knew how to act or what to say. But luckily for him Sherlock was not a normal child, he was a pint-sized adult, with some childlike characteristics. " How about we go down for breakfast and I'll get cook to make us some french toast." He said as he wiped away the boy's tears.

Pulling on Mys sleeve he brought his face to Mys ear. "Can it be waffles instead?" he whispered.

"Of course, let's go and have some waffles." He said as he lifted the little boy off the bed and placed him onto the floor.

He didn't know exactly what kind of relationship he and Sherlock shared, but he knew that they were all family the other had and that was something he would always hold dear.

When Greg woke up, he didn't know where he was, he had never been in Mycroft's room before. But looking around the neat and tidy room he could only assume that's who the room belonged to. As he slowly sat up he took in his surroundings, the dark green walls, the large window, the surprising comfortable bed. Hold on where was his shirt? He had it on when he fell asleep, so where was it now? He searched the room thoroughly, before giving up and grabbing one of Mycrofts from a drawer packed full. The shirt smelled like him, it smelled strongly of cinnamon, a deep wood, and the alpha wash that Mycroft had been known to use. He would look around for his shirt again later, but if he couldn't find it, it wouldn't be the worst thing to just keep this one.

Greg wandered downstairs, trying to find Mycroft, but in an endless maze of halls and rooms, it was quite difficult. Until he heard the sound of laughter wafting from one of the rooms to his right. He opened the door only to be welcomed by the smell of breakfast and coffee, glorious coffee. The room had fifteen of so large windows on the far wall, making the room, although made of stone, look warm and comforting. Sherlock was sitting on the table with whipped cream on his nose, trying to get to it using only his tongue. And My, was insisting he use a napkin instead.

"Finally, I thought the smell of coffee would have you jumping out of bed." said Mycroft, looking at the weary eyed teenager, even though Greg was only sixteen, at this moment he easily looked five or six years older.

"Oh shut up, if this mansion wasn't so bloody large, I would have found you half an hour ago." He replied, throwing his hands in the air.

"Look Greg, I can make my tongue reach my nose, not even My can do that!" said Sherlock excitedly pointing to his now semi clean nose.

Sitting down Greg looked at the two brothers, who despite looking so different shared the same eyes, and the same stubbornness. All though they were and would always be two very unique people, that was something that they could share and cherish.