A.N Okay, so I've been snowed under with uni and stuff and I've not been updating so often as i'd like, but here's another peace offering I've dug out for you guys.

WARNING for mentions of child abuse of a sexual nature, bluntly discussed but not graphic.

As soon as the opportunity came around, Greg spoke to Mycroft. He felt no guilt. He'd said he wouldn't report it, not that he wouldn't say anything to anyone. His opportunity appeared three days after he'd spoken to Sherlock when, at the end of the last class of the week, the history master asked them to return some books to library.

"I met your brother the other day." Greg said, conversationally, as they walked down a deserted corridor.

"Did you?" Mycroft looked a little surprised that Greg was speaking to him.

Greg suddenly felt mildly guilty, but hurried on anyway "Yeah. He was a bit upset see."

"Upset? Sherlock? What was the matter?" Mycroft asked the questions with an urgency Greg had expected, now that he was in the know about Sherlock. They came to a stop in the middle of the corridor.

"He, uh, he said he didn't want to come here, said he was a year too young for the first."

"He is, but he's as smart as a whip. He was homesick?"

"In a manner of speaking, I suppose."

Mycroft gave him an odd look.

"Look, Mycroft, it's a bit delicate but… I promised I wouldn't report him when I found him up in the attics crying, if he'd tell me what was wrong and… he did."

"Ah." It was as though shutters had gone down behind Mycroft's eyes.

"About your father."

"Yes."

"Well, I just… I just wanted you to know that, that I'd be, y'know, looking out for him a bit."

"Don't."

"What?"

"I shall, look out for him, as you put it. Put it out of your mind, Gregory."

"It's Greg, and I can't."

"You cannot change anything. Everything that can be tried, has been."

"Maybe, maybe not. I can be there for him though, and I intend to be."

"If you must, I suppose." Mycroft began walking sharply away.

He had reached the corner when Greg spoke next "I thought for a moment you didn't care, but I saw how worried you were, so it can't be that."

Mycroft stopped walking, but didn't turn or reply, choosing to stare out of the window instead.

"Then I thought about it, and it's obvious." The tension in Mycroft's back was rather incredible. It looked painful from where Greg was standing. He walked slowly over to where the other boy was standing, stopping a few feet from him and speaking softly. "He's doing it to you too."

Mycroft jumped as though stung and whirled around to face him "I'll thank you to mind your own business Gregory Lestrade!" He exploded, then he spun on his heel and strode away around the corner.

"Oh hell!" Greg muttered to himself, dashing after him.

"Mycroft! Wait!"

"Go away!"

"No!"

"Leave me alone!"

"One thing, that's all I want to say! Dear God, slow down!" Greg gasped.

Mycroft reluctantly slowed his pace. "One thing, then go away."

"The things your brother told me were in confidence."

"So?"

"So I would hope that you would realise that I will report neither what he has told me, nor what I may have guessed."

Mycroft stayed silent, but kept in step with Greg, who had the distinct feeling that he had been forgiven.

"I would also hope," he began, carefully.

Mycroft looked at him, sharply, his features suddenly worried again.

"that you might be able to extend the same confidence in me."

Mycroft regarded him thoughtfully. "Perhaps." He replied after a moment. "Perhaps I shall. We should return these." He added, shifting the books he still carried to draw attention to them.

"Probably." Greg replied with a wry smile.