"You have a vexing problem. It is not often you would deign to call upon me." Mycroft stood imperiously in the doorway of the Strangers Room. "Pray, have a seat," he gestured toward a chair.

Sherlock barely glanced at his brother, focusing instead on the ornately carved, wooden chair before him.

"I believe I would prefer to stand."

"Still presenting difficulties, after all this time?"

"Damage to the upper spine. May yet heal, in good time. You missed some of your Serbian friends' best work with your late arrival, though you did still manage a front row seat. Not, however, why I would prefer to stand... although that chair was certainly not selected for comfort."

"How can I be of assistance?"

"This is, not related to a case."

Mycroft frowned. "You seek a personal opinion? I'm afraid our tastes do not generally coincide, Brother Mine. Regarding our parents? Mummy's apparent fascination with line dancing is indeed unfortunate, however, I believe it is our father's attraction to cross-cultural studies that is truly to blame in this instance." Sherlock gave him a tight smile. "So long as they choose to remain in The Buckle of the Bible Belt, I fear a certain degree of curiosity is... as inevitable as the protests against the proposed statue of Baphomet on the grounds of the State Capitol."

"I only seek your opinion as someone who has grown up within the same family constellation. Nuclear family. Extended."

"Why would someone who had no love for our cousins and despised family reunions concern himself with extended family? I should hardly think your sudden interest in genealogy is due to your adding branches to the family tree..."

"No for several reasons, all of which you are...painfully aware."

Mycroft hid a sudden stab of guilt behind a well-placed smirk. "...And interest in our ancestral background, that would indeed be a first for you." He sat down.

"Irrelevant. No. Worse. Family heraldry reinforces prejudice of all kinds. What I require," Sherlock scrutinized Mycroft's features carefully, while continuing to feign disinterest, "is data. Your impressions are as good as facts."

"On what? Was Mummy resentful she gave up a promising career as a mathematician to raise her sons ? I think not, by the way. Did Aunt Margaret always want a boy? Do you long to know who cheated on their income tax? Or perhaps who cheated on their spouse with..." Sherlock cut him off with a forceful glare. He sat in the chair previously offered, moving forward so as to occupy just the edge. Mycroft paused before continuing. "There's only one reason why someone so unconcerned with family scandal as to buy Uncle Rudy a lovely pair of size 14 heels for Christmas would be interested in dark, family secrets. It involves you."

"Correct."

"And if it involves you, the only reason you would have to... and you would only do this if there was no other option... ask me for clarification, would be if you have a degree of uncertainty, which would imply... " Mycroft leaned forward in his chair, placing his elbows on his knees, his face grave. "Youth or deletion, Sherlock?"

"How can one tell?"

"Youth would be relying on one of your senses without the others being equally developed... pieces of a memory. Visuals without sound. Audio only. Scent only."

"An incomplete picture."

"Precisely. Whereas deletion..."

"Would have a before and after. Gaps in between."

"Yes. And a coping technique, for... trauma... would be a vivid memory of an inconsequential object, such as a plant in the room, or the texture of a patch of carpet. Something you would have focused on in great detail to distract yourself from the situation."

Sherlock began to tent his fingers under his chin.

Mycroft waved his hand at Sherlock. "No need to examine that right now. I can only assure you that I am completely unaware of anyone in our extended family acting in an inappropriate manner. Since we are dealing with issues surrounding sexuality, older males are statistically the likeliest culprits. Our grandparents died young, Grandmere Vernet being the exception. Since Aunt Margaret left Uncle Fredrick before you were born (shortly after their third girl) and Uncle Rudy's relief once his cross-dressing was disclosed strongly suggests that that was the only secret he had been harbouring, I find the probability of it being an extended family member rather low. With Sherrinford studying abroad at that time, that would leave our father and myself, though our mother is always a possibility. I don't see anything that would implicate either of them, and the general pattern with two siblings would likely be to start with the first-born and use the threat of harming the second to ensure silence. As for me, I can assure you, I have never touched any... what shall I refer to them as... any of your *ahem* 'private parts'." Sherlock suppressed a subconscious urge to narrow his eyes in anger at the abrupt shift to a mocking tone, or to turn away from him in embarrassment, in order to maintain the steady eye contact required to assess the level of truth in his brother's words. "Nor have you ever laid so much as a finger on mine. Ever. Even in a non-sexual capacity." Mycroft wrinkled his nose as if in distaste. "I've never so much as changed your diaper or soaped you up in the bath."

Sherlock eyed him closely, nodded tersely. "Yes, I see."

"I apologize, I am not entirely sure how one expresses condolences in this situation."

"Unnecessary."

"Might I ask, what inspired this conversation?"

"No, you may not."