Hey everyone. New chapter coming today. Im suffering badly with my chronic illness so this fic and all my others will be a little more sporadically updated until I get over this slump. Please don't comment asking when I'll update because the answer is always when I feel okay enough to write. I'm sorry if it's out of character at all, I'm trying my best. Thank you all for sticking with me. Lots of love./

Mycroft took a sip of his tea, cringing a little at the sweetness.

He took it almost black, with no sugar. Sherlock knew that but he'd made it the opposite.

"You passed out. You need sugar." Sherlock said carefully.

Mycroft sighed and took another sip before setting it back on the table.

"It started when we were younger. I'm sure you remember how I used to eat."

Sherlock nodded, silent.

"It was a comfort. As soon as I got my first job, I would blow the money on food. I would hide it in my room, and after another fight, another yelling match, after you'd gone to bed, I would get it out. Sit on my bed, eat it all. There would be so much food and I...couldn't stop. It made me happy. With that amount of food though, I gained weight fast. You know that. Our parents were...angry. Nobody wanted a fat child, they were even more disappointed in me. They started taking my money from the job, well more than they were already taking. I would have enough to get to work and back, and the rest they would have. So I started walking to work. It took me over an hour each way. I would buy food on the way home, eat it, throw away the packages."

Mycroft sighed, visibly struggling to talk about it.

"It carried on like that for years. I knew then I had to get out as soon as I could. So I used my assistants job. I clawed my way up until I could leave. I got into university and I went. I left you with them, and I'm sorry for that. I'd tried to protect you for so long and I...I stopped doing that the moment I left."

A long inhale and a shaky sip of tea.

"University was so different. I had my own money, my own space and I started eating a lot again. But it was different too. The guilt started. The hate every time I looked in the mirror. But food was still a comfort so I...I would eat it all and then I started to purge it. It started with just the binges, I would only do it when I'd eaten a lot. But then it...It grew. Every time I ate anything, I purged it. I stopped enjoying food, it stopped being a comfort because I knew what would come after. I started to stop binging. It hurt every time, I would be in agony after. Eventually I stopped eating any meals at all. There was no point. Then I stopped eating full stop. When I had to eat, when I got too sick, it would be a little at a time. I didn't purge it because I knew I would be ill without it. I controlled it. Ate only when I absolutely had too, and got no enjoyment out of it. I haven't collapsed in years. I'm good at it."

"Until today." Sherlock said quietly.

"Until today. I've been feeling ill all day, but I've had no time to eat anything. A perk of the job is I rarely have time to focus on eating. It just happened that I was so busy, I couldn't."

Sherlock exhaled and sat back in his seat. "Jesus, Mycroft. How did I not notice this?"

"You might have." Mycroft said honestly. "But I imagine it's in the back of your mind. You saw the weight, and assumed I was just busy, stressed, or physically ill. You notice, Sherlock, you just didn't come to the correct conclusion."

"Or I didn't want to see it." Sherlock shook his head. "I've been a bloody awful, brother haven't I?"

Mycroft actually chuckled. "I wouldn't say that."

"I would." Sherlock murmured, deadly serious.

"I should have seen it, Myc. But I'm not looking away now. I'm here."

/It's short, I know. A filler chapter to explain some more background. Hope you enjoyed.