AN: Special thanks to TadPole11 your great ideas are a big help in inspiring these. It's hard when you want to write, but don't know what about, so Thanks and keep it up I really appreciate it!

Also Reminder: Feel free to suggest things any and all ideas are welcomed for the brothers, vague or detailed (doesn't matter).

Just tell me what age you'd like them to be, since this is random bits of the brothers relationship. (keep in mind they are 7 years apart.)

Thanks and ENJOY!

Sherlock:14 Mycroft:21

Sherlock was curled up in his favorite high back chair at his parents' house; snow was gently falling from the sky as he idly read from his new chemistry book with the curtains drawn. Tomorrow was New Years Eve, and he had no plans what so ever. Not that he minded, the whole thing was silly any way, plus his only friend was up in Scotland visiting family.

"There you are cher," His mother greeted, sweeping into the room. "As you may recall, we are going to the Havishom's for New Years."

The dark haired boy looked up from his volume with surprise, his eyes narrowed. "What?"

"Don't say what, say pardon." Madame Holmes instructed as she through open the curtains to let the harsh winter light in.

"Pardon," Sherlock replied haughtily, wincing at the change of lighting.

"Oh, don't give me that look…" She warned, "I told you about it at Christmas, and since you never seem to remember anything I tell you…" She paused, fixing her son with a look as he made to interject. "You won't recall that it's grownups only, this year."

"Oh, what a shame," He replied with disinterest as he returned to his book.

"Yes, I know that you where so looking forward to it," She smirked sarcastically, absently straightening the mess that seemed to follow her youngest around. "Mycroft will be coming up." Madame Holmes added airily.

"Why?" Sherlock snapped, immediately going on the defensive. "I'm quite old enough to look after myself for one night, Mummy and furthermore…"

"Calm down Sherlock," She interjected. "It's not on spending a holiday alone, cher." She soothed, her son still poised defensively as she sat on the arm of his chair. "It'll be fun, there's Champagne and I've had Sylvia prepare some goodies for you boys."

"Mycroft will no doubt eat them all before his new year's diet is even in effect." Sherlock huffed.

"Now be nice, you know how hard he works… and he's giving up his friends and colleagues in London to come and spend time with you."

"You mean to babysit me," Sherlock sulked, crossing his arms petulantly. "He's only coming to make sure I don't blow anything or anyone up and that the house is still standing when you return because you don't trust me."

"Why do you always make things out to be so sinister?" His mother breathed, throwing her arms in the air as she stood.

"Should I answer alphabetically or chronologically?"He glared.

"I just don't want you to be lonely and miserable, is that so hard to believe?"

"I'm perfectly content being alone, thank you very much."

"Do not lie, Sherlock." She admonished.

"I'm not." He replied, affronted. "We are born alone and we die alone, end of story, might as well get used to it now." He pulled his knees up onto the chair hugging them close, and resting his chin as he went back to his book.

"Stop with this macabre nonsense, mark my words one day you will find a nice girl... or boy," She supplied, leading since it was so hard to tell his inclinations. "Who will fill in the cracks you never realized you had and when you do leave this earth, god willing, there will be someone to morn you." She huffed, re-fluffing a throw pillow unnecessarily.

Sherlock was quiet for a beat taking in her words pensively. "Unlikely," he breathed softly.

Madame Holmes rolled her eyes, "Why do I even bother," she swept toward the door. "Your brother is coming tomorrow whether you like it or not," She informed him sternly. "And you will have a lovely time celebrating the dawn of a new year, blow up the house for all I care." She stated simply, clearly having enough of her teenage son, before taking her leave.

The next day, Mycroft arrived about an hour or so after Mummy and Father left for their party. He took his time getting settled in his old room, before going in search of his brother. He found the younger man in the living room; lying in the middle of the floor on his back and flicking scrabble tiles, with glue on them, up on the ceiling.

Mycroft stepped into his brother's line of vision looking above at the teenager's handy work. "I take it you're bored," he offered, seeing as the word was stock above his head along with some other interesting terms.

"Brilliant, brother, what was your first clue for that deduction?" Sherlock asked snidely.

"Lovely to see you too, Sherly," Mycroft smirked. "You know you're missing a Y there?" He pointed.

"There's only one in the box."

"Ah, well what would you like to do this evening?"

"Die." Sherlock stated flatly.

"Hmm…" Mycroft hummed, undeterred by his brother's surliness, "If you're dead then you won't be able to watch the documentary I brought on medical oddities from 1850 to present day."

Sherlock sat up abruptly, eyeing his brother critically. "That could be fairly interesting," he sighed, trying to hide his enthusiasm, "Only if you promise that there will be no silly new year's anything."

"Promise," Mycroft smirked, crossing his heart for good measure. "Will you permit at least an acknowledgement of the year charge and the consumption of alcohol?"

The dark haired boy thought for a moment, before turning his pale eyes to his brother. "Very well, but if you wish me Happy anything…" He warned matter of factually, "I'll break your jaw." He hopped to his feet agilely, "Now where is this film you speak of?"

"By the telly," Mycroft answered as his brother strode past him, clearly closer to his own height then he was last time he saw him, "Another growth spurt I see."

"Yes, yes, dull." Sherlock nodded, turning around from inserting the film, "I don't suppose I will be taller then you one day?"

"You never know," Mycroft shrugged sitting down on the couch.

A quarter into the program, Mycroft excused himself to go and fetch some of the treats Sylvia prepared; knowing full well his brother wouldn't eat otherwise. Whilst raiding the kitchen, he decided to sneak a slice of the German chocolate cheesecake. For going the plate he stood before the open refrigerator door as he delved into the opulent dessert.

"Hey 'croft!" Sherlock startled him, snapping a picture of his brother turning towards him surprised mid bite. The younger boy removes the Polaroid photo, shaking it back and forth to help it develop, "I knew the diet would be over before the resolution started."

Mycroft looked livid, his face turning red, "Give that here now, Sherlock!"

"Um… no!" He smirked looking at the new black mail photo.

"I'm going to end you," The older brother spat lunging forward to try and steal the photograph.

"But that would involve exercise," Sherlock laughed as he took off down the hall way, surprised that his brother was chasing after him.

When the elder Holmes finally caught up, the Polaroid was nowhere to be found; and Sherlock was grinning like the cat that got the canary.

"Where is it?" Mycroft huffed, trying to catch his breath.

"I haven't the foggiest," Sherlock lied.

After a brief struggle, Mycroft had his brother pinned under him and thusly immobilized. "Tell me what you did with it!"

"No," Sherlock huffed, struggling in vain. "I need it for leverage."

"I'm not above torture, as you may recall." He narrowed his eyes. "Now tell me!"

"Death first!" Was the youngest's reply.

Reviews, suggestions, thoughts, ideas?