Feeling empty

Disclaimer: Yes, yes I know. Still not mine.

John no longer responded to his messages. Mycroft couldn't blame him; obviously John held him responsible for Sherlock's death.

Mycroft lit his cigarette. He inhaled the smoke, deeply in thought. He had visited Bakerstreet but Mrs. Hudson told him that John hadn't come home since the burial.

He could find John of course but lately he seemed to lack motivation for anything. Mycroft smiled grimly. He had felt like that once before.

It was quiet in the Holmes household. Mycroft turned away from his books and looked at the ten year old, currently sleeping in his bed. Nothing more than his black curls were visible above the sheet. He hated waking his little brother when he looked so much at peace but he didn't have a choice.

"Wake up Sherlock," he gently touched his brother's shoulder. The small boy groaned and looked at him, his green eyes misty with sleep. "My?"

Mycroft managed to smile at him. Sherlock had slept in his room since their mother left to take care of her very ill sister. He'd been plagued by nightmares. "Come on, it's time for breakfast."

Sherlock stiffened. Breakfast with their father was a stressful affair; the small boy was usually criticized for everything he'd done, because in their father's opinion everything he did was done wrong. Mycroft knew that their father would never understand his younger son. He probably wouldn't understand Mycroft as well, but the older Holmes boy was so much better at diplomacy and people.

"Mrs. Turner called yesterday."

Mycroft almost missed the whispered words. That explained why Sherlock had been hiding in Mycroft's room since said afternoon. "What did you do?"

The boy sat up and ran a hand through his unruly hair. "Nothing." He smiled brightly at his older brother but Mycroft didn't buy it.

"Sherlock Holmes, what did you do? And don't lie to me, because I will find out and I will take away your chemistry set."

Sherlock bit his lips. He knew, from experience, that Mycroft meant business. "Well I did nothing. No really!" he added the last part when Mycroft made his way over to his brothers experiments. "I didn't do the homework she assigned and it might not have been the first time. But really My, why must I do those dull exercises? They are so boring."

Mycroft hid a smile and put his arm around Sherlock's shoulder. "You have to do your homework. It is not optional, do you understand?"

Sherlock's fingertips tapped the bedframe impatiently; a sure sign that Mycroft had lost his attention.

He shooed the small boy out of his bed to go and get dressed.

Mycroft took some time to get ready for breakfast, their father had left on a business trip this morning and he had no reason to be there on time. However Sherlock wasn't there when he entered the dining room. He turned to the maid: „Have you seen Sherlock?"

She shook her head.

Mycroft didn't bother checking Sherlock's room. Whatever caused the small boys nightmares it was reason enough for Sherlock to spent as little time as possible in there.

It was only a three minute walk to the beginning of the forest. Sherlock thought that his tree house was a safe place that only he knew about, but he was wrong. Mycroft had found the place a long time ago but hadn't had a reason to disturb him there yet. "Sherlock?"

He didn't have to wait long. "My? How did you find me?"

Mycroft smiled. "I'm your brother, Idiot."

Sherlock's head appeared between the green leaves. His eyes were red and his face blotchy. He must have cried.

Mycroft watched Sherlock descending from the tree. "Why did you run off? I was worried."

"He took it away. Everything. The microscope, my collection, and my books they're all gone."

Mycroft helplessly patted his brothers back. "Who took your stuff?"

Sherlock looked up and wiped tears out of his eyes with his sleeve. "Father. He said, he said that I would only get it back when I get grades as good as yours."

This time Mycroft was able to identify the emotion behind the sadness, his brother was very angry. "When did you see father?"

"He was in my room. He put all my stuff in boxes. There is nothing left!" Sherlock picked a stone up from the ground and threw it at a nearby tree; a few birds flew away.

Mycroft knelt down and grabbed his brother at the shoulders. He waited patiently until Sherlock had calmed down a little. "Sherlock, listen to me. Listen to me! You can achieve higher grades easily, I know you can."

It was as if all energy left the child within seconds. "I know." Sherlock sat down on the ground; he slung his arms around his legs. "It's just... I don't want to. It is boring. I already know what they are going to teach me, I don't want to do my stupid homework, it's boring. I want to work on my experiments, just like you do."

Mycroft sighted and shortly pondered the pros (comforting Sherlock) and cons (stains) of sitting down. His concern for Sherlock won. "Can't you pretend to work hard? Think of being better at school as another one of your experiments. Test how much effort it would take?"

The child shook his head stubbornly. "No! I will not pretend!" He put his head against Mycroft's shoulder. "I can't do it My."

Mycroft knew that Sherlock was correct. He would never do something just to please someone else. Never. "You still have your chemistry set." The older Holmes boy felt slightly sick when he remembered nearly taking it away from his younger brother.

Sherlock looked at him with tear-filled eyes and a small smile formed at his lips. "I still have you."

And now Mycroft lost him. Mycroft had forgotten about his own schoolwork and schemes when Sherlock muttered those four words. He couldn't bring himself to do anything except spending time with his younger brother. Now there was no younger brother left to spend time with and Mycroft felt empty.

His mobile beeped.

Mycroft picked it up, hoping against hope that John had answered.

"Not dead. SH"

A/N.: Originally a Oneshot I extended it to a Twoshot because I love you guys :-) Now love me right back and review.