XXVIII

A Little Bit of This

When he was three years old, Mother told him to open his eyes and watch the world. She had said so in an off-hand manner, as she was too engaged in her own work to pay him full attention. His young mind, however, didn't accept that it was merely a ploy to keep him occupied, and he took her words to heart.

At some point, she must have noticed the change. Eventually, she began to encourage him – it kept him out from underfoot when she needed to concentrate.

She probably couldn't have guessed how that encouragement would shape his life.


Anything But That

She would always be "Mummy".

Mycroft enjoyed referring to her as such when they were seen in public together. It was a verbal ploy to highlight to those around them that Sherlock would always be the younger, less sophisticated one – quicker to anger, quicker to react to Mycroft's carefully calculated terminology.

Until his brother could leave "Mummy" alone (which he doubted – it was too useful a tactic), "Mummy" would remain, hovering between them, holding them together with an invisible grip.

He had attempted to find a way of using "Mummy" against his brother, but Mycroft was impervious to her memory.


Not for Nothing

As he grew up, he always found he was standing in Mycroft's shadow. Such was the fate of younger siblings; they always had to live up to, and surpass, the standards set by their elders. If they didn't, some adult somewhere – teacher, parent, aunt or uncle – would look down their nose at the unfortunate child and sigh in a disappointed way.

He aimed never to disappoint.

It was an extremely difficult job.

He failed most of the time.

Though that was, he said later, because no one but Mother seemed to see the brilliance in the way he solved puzzles.


Everything Else

It always surprised people when they learned he had a brother – he must give off such an enigmatic air that it was simpler for people to think of him without a family. It was a blunt assumption; he had to come from somewhere. Everyone did.

He preferred to keep "somewhere" swept quietly beneath the table; otherwise, it would come back to bite him at the least opportune moment.

Everyone had their secrets, him included. But unlike others, he knew exactly what to do with his secrets – hide them, stash them, leave them to rot.

He was better off without them.


What Matters Most

When Mycroft visited (which was only when he wanted to coerce his younger brother into doing something for him), there was an exchange of the usual pleasantries. "You're beginning to nest in here" (accompanied by the contemptuous knocking of an umbrella point on the floor) and "Your diet's suiting you well, have you added an exercise routine?" (timed just right so Mrs Hudson would appear with a plate of treats).

But if someone else was present, the game changed. Nothing could escape their eyes, particularly when they had the same target.

It was difficult to say who won those matches.