Authors Note: HEYO! XD Please tell me what you think; I would love to know XD I own nothing and no one, apart from the following: Fredrik Jones, Theodore Wells.

JUST SO YOU KNOW: This is my FIRST attempt at Sherlock and Johnlock, so please be kind!

Please, please review XD

ALSO: I made up middle names and first names for certain characters, just so I had something to work with ^_^

P.S. I know it's been a while, but I've been having a lot of issues with family, University, my anxiety, etc. It's kind of knocked me off of my writing. Trust me when I say I'm trying to write for my fics as fast as I can.

Chapter 12

Sherlock

After my week off, after The Incident, I went back to school part-time. Just two days a week, Wednesday and Thursday, until twelve in the afternoon. The school, the Watsons and Mycroft, even my counsellor, believed there was a possibility it would be too stressful for me, if I went back full time straight away. I just didn't understand them. Surely going back, taking my mind off of what had happened, was the best step forward. Right? The only consolation was that John got to stay with me as well.

Since the hospital, Mycroft had spent as much time at the house, as much time with me, as he could. Since he had started at his top University during September 2014, it was more time than people would originally thought, yet less time than he would have liked. It was strange having him there almost all of the time.

It was Friday - May 8th. Gregory and Mycroft had been in the house since the night before, taking one of the many empty rooms. As soon as they had woken up, they had gone downstairs, along with John and Harry. I had heard their footsteps, whilst I pretended to still be asleep. I just didn't want to get up. Not at that moment, at least. I stayed laying in bed, the duvet pulled up under my chin and my face buried. The only thing really visible was my hair. The door wasn't locked. Nothing had exactly been said, though I gathered the others would feel far more relaxed if they had an unobstructed entrance into my room. I suppose I could understand that...

If I looked further into it, I would be able to say why I didn't want to get up. If I looked further into it, I would be able to identify and explain it. The fact was, I didn't want to. I didn't want to acknowledge what the reason was. I didn't want to pay it any heed.

I should have realised, however, that my behaviour wouldn't be ignored.

I was left alone for, around, an hour, after everyone had woken up, before there was a knock on the door. I barely moved my head. I just expected it to be John. He was usually the one to get me downstairs to eat or socialize.

I didn't expect Mycroft.

"What do you want?" I muttered, looking at him over my shoulder.

"We were wondering if you were interested in joining us." Mycroft replied. "However, you seem rather comfortable just there."

I rolled over onto my side, shuffling up slightly so I could look at him properly. Mycroft was out of his uptight, stuffy attire, swapping it for somehow comfortable looking yet fitted jeans, along with a light lavender v-neck sweater. It was strange, seeing him so relaxed and, well, human. It was slightly unnerving.

"I'm doing an experiment." I muttered.

"No you're not, Sherlock." Mycroft sighed. "I've seen you work on your experiments and...this is not how you usually are."

Glaring slightly, I pulled the duvet up tighter, turning my gaze away from him. Honestly, I should have locked the door. Damn what any of them would have thought! If they were really all that worried, one of them could have knocked down the bloody door!

It took me a moment to realise Mycroft had moved. Not until the mattress dipped. I moved my head enough to be able to just see the fabric of his clothes. I felt his hand, tentatively, rest on my shoulder. I could feel him play with strands of my hair, like he used to do before everything turned to shit... I could feel all the tension leek from my body, my eyelids started getting heavy. I was ready to fall asleep.

Mycroft didn't say anything. He just sat there, next to me, playing with my hair. I slowly uncurled from my position under the duvet, moving until it was no longer pulled up to under my chin.

"I remember, when you were a baby, fourteen months old, this was the only way we could get you to sleep." Mycroft chuckled, softly. "You wouldn't give in otherwise."

I turned my head slightly to look at him. I hadn't seen a genuine smile from him in, well, years. He used to smirk, all haughty and above it all. It would irritate me, infuriate me... I was still trying to get used to the change.

"We?" I muttered, keeping my voice only just above a whisper.

"Sherri and I." he explained, smiling. "Sherri always knew how to look after you; always knew what you needed and when, and exactly what to try to calm you down... Though he did get some practice in with me, I suppose."

I stilled. Slowly, I turned onto my back, pushing myself up until my back was resting against the headboard. Mycroft seemed more than a little worried, a frown marring his forehead. He looked as if I was about to bolt out of the room, as if I was about to make a dash for the bathroom and lock myself in there.

Such faith he had in me.

"Did-Did you just... Did you call him..." I whispered, mainly to myself.

I couldn't get any full sentences out. I didn't know how to react apart from amazed. Mycroft had actually used our brother's name. He didn't refer to Sherrinford as 'The Other One'. Mycroft used his name...

For a moment, Mycroft looked down, tugging slightly at the right hand sleeve of his sweater. He looked more uncomfortable than I had ever seen him, even biting at the inside on cheek. He hadn't done that since he was eight, as far as I could remember. Reaching out, I rested my hand on Mycroft's forearm. He jolted at the touch, his head snapping up to look at me with wide eyes. Sighing, I watched as Mycroft completely deflated, his head dropping to stare at the covers on my bed.

"Back then, I thought calling Sherrinford by how they referred to him would convince them." Mycroft murmured. "I only call him that when they're around. I don't enjoy doing it, nor did I ever mean to hurt you with it."

Quicker than I expected, Mycroft moved. My hand fell off his arm, but he quickly wrapped his arms around me, one hand on the back of my head. I could barely move.

"I've never meant to hurt you with anything, Sherlock." he whispered. "I'm sorry."

It took Mycroft a while to calm down. Longer than I would ever expect. His grip on my was deathly, not in the way our parents grip ever used to be, however. The moment he let go, we rearranged ourselves until we were both leaning against the headboard of my bed, sitting side by side.

"I've been looking for him." Mycroft said after a while. "For years I've been looking for where they've put him."

"Really?" I asked, hopefully. "Do you have any leads? Do you have an idea of which part of England he could be in? Is he even in England? Do you think he's ok? Well, obviously he's not, but you know what I mean. Do you think-"

"I know nothing, Sherlock."

All words died in my mouth.

"I've tried to get them to tell me. I've tried hacking into every database I could think of that may have a record... Nothing. Even Gregory's Father has no idea." Mycroft explained. "I'm trying everything I can think of to find him."

Pulling my legs to my chest, I rested my chin on my knees.

"Do you... Do you think Sherri remembers us?" I muttered, keeping my eyes down. "Do you think he even thinks of us?"

"I have no doubt in my mind that he does." he told me, pulling me into his side as he put an arm around my shoulders. "No matter what happens, I believe he will always remember us."

"Do you think we'll ever find him?"

"I hope we do. But I don't know for definite."

I suppose that was the most I could ever ask for.

"Remember when Sherrinford took us camping?" Mycroft chuckled.

FLASHBACK: Saturday, 27th November 2004 - Sherrinford's POV

I wouldn't exactly call it camping. All I did was show the boys how to pitch a tent, in the garden, and we were going to spend the night in it, just the three of us. Our so called 'Parents' had disappeared off to France for a long weekend, meeting up with friends and business partners for some sort of social party or another. I was pretty much left to look after my baby brothers. Well, I say baby brothers, but they were three and six and smart as hell... I didn't care. I would always see them as my baby brothers. Mycroft still had his puppy fat, a little more than other children had, but not much. He was highly self-conscious and our 'Parents' helped none... No one seemed to realise that he still had some growing to do and, as he grew up, he could lose a lot of the weight. Mycroft's hair was a dark, pure red, light freckles covering his pale skin. He was a great kid, smart and sweet... But no one could get past his weight. Sherlock was...well, I couldn't think of how to describe Sherlock. He was so many things rolled into this little ball of energy. His intelligence was terrifying at times and his creativity was inspiring. He loved his experiments, yet he wanted to be a pirate... Sherlock was a good weight for a three year old, though shorter than most his age, his curly hair almost black looking and contrasting with his porcelain pale skin. No one seemed to be able to keep up with him... They were both amazing kids, all they wanted were for people to like them. They didn't want others to see them as freaks.

"Perfect!" I grinned. "We're ready for tonight, boys."

As Mycroft walked to my side, Sherlock ran around the tent and straight into my legs, wrapping his arms around my hips and grinning up at me, resting his chin on my stomach. Wrapping one arm around Mycroft's shoulder's, I placed the hand of my other arm on the back of Sherlock's head.

"We sleep here all night?" Sherlock asked, excitedly, almost vibrating with his eyes wide. "We won't get in trouble?"

"As long as we don't tell Mother and Father, it should be alright." Mycroft smiled. "Right, Sherri?"

"Exactly. It's going to be our secret." I chuckled. "We're going to stay up as late as we can, we're going eat as much as we can, we're going to have as much fun as we can. Just the three of us."

(Small Time Skip)

The sun was just starting to set when the boys and I found ourselves in the tent. Of course, Sherlock brought Redbeard along too. He loved that old dog too much to leave alone in the house. The old boy had become more Sherlock's dog than anyone else's. Redbeard was good for Sherlock.

Inside the tent, we had a huge abundance of junk food and fizzy drinks, not to mentions food and water for Redbeard, stashed along the far wall. As soon as we got in and the doors were zipped shut, Sherlock rushed to bury himself under his duvet, wrapping it around Redbeard as well.

I was dreading the day Redbeard passed away.

"Good boy, Redbeard!" Sherlock giggled, hugging to dog to him. "You staying next to me."

I couldn't help the smile that spread across my face. There was always this pure innocence that seemed to radiate off of Sherlock, no matter what our Parents did to him, no matter what anyone called him... I never wanted him to lose that. I wanted to protect both of them, keep them both away from what was really out there.

I didn't want either of them to face what I was.

I wanted my baby brothers to be safe and happy.

Mycroft and I sat down with Sherlock, lanterns ready in the corners of the tent to give us some light once it was dark. Redbeard didn't settle down fully until all of us were comfortable, waiting until then to lay down next to Sherlock, his head on Sherlock's lap.

"Right, boys," I grinned. "What do you wanna do first?"

(Small Time Skip)

It was just after ten that evening, when both Sherlock and Mycroft were asleep. I had both of them curled up at my sides, their hands fisted loosely in my shirt. It calmed me, knowing my brothers were with me. Knowing they were safe.

It calmed me to know no one could get to them, not without going through me first. As long as I was around, I would never let anything happen to my brothers.

I was only a year older than Mycroft when It started. It was the night of my birthday, Father had given me a great new bruise... I had been in my room for just over half an hour, trying to ignore the pain so I could sleep. Obviously, I was having no luck. Which was why I heard the door to my room creek open. The man was a few years older than Father, a glass of Jack Daniels in his hand. He wasn't drunk, however, that I was certain of. I pretended to be asleep, hoping the guy had just taken a wrong turn. He hadn't. That much was made clear to me when he started speaking to me. The things he said, the way he moved around the room, the way he looked at and touched me... Even at seven years old, I was aware as to exactly what he was doing. I hurt, but I couldn't scream. He had crammed three fingers into my mouth, stopping me from making any noise. I could barely walk, I couldn't sit down, I couldn't sleep. I thought that was it, I thought that was the only time it would happen, because it didn't happen again. Then, weeks later, after Mycroft was born, it happened again. And again, and again. I never knew when it was going to happen, until it was too late.

I didn't want anything like that happening to either of my baby brothers. The two of them were the only good things in my life. They were the only things keeping me around, keeping me alive. I was the first to hold them, the first to feed them, the first to change them. Everything a Mother or Father should have done, I did. I was more a parent to them than a brother. And, one day, I would take them away from our 'Parents'. I just had to wait until I was eighteen.

Only five more years...

END OF FLASHBACK - Back To: Friday, 8th May 2015 - Sherlock's POV

"I can't even think about marshmallows anymore." I groaned, a smile impossible to keep off of my face. "It was the most fun I ever remember having in that house."

"Sherri definitely made it better." Mycroft agreed. "Which is why we're going to make things better for him. One day, we'll get justice for everything."

"I hope you're right, Brother Mine. I hope you're right."

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