1987
Mycroft held his breath as he was pulled into his mother's tight embrace, tolerating her touch. His father stepped past him, carrying his suitcase and dropping it in the entrance hall. Mycroft pulled away, seeing a strange man lift his suitcase up and carry it up the stairs.
"Who is that?" Mycroft demanded, pointing towards the disappearing figure.
Mother turned to look at the man. "That's just Jones, dear. He's our new butler."
"You've a new butler?"
"Yes, Mikey. I know he's not Smith but he is rather good. And I know you were close to Smith but we had to replace him eventually. It has been nearly four months since the poor man had that dreadful accident."
Mycroft blushed. "I wasn't close to Smith!"
Suddenly thunderous footsteps came down the staircase and a small body was flung at him. "Mikey! I've missed you so much." Sherlock wrapped his arms tightly around Mycroft's waist.
Mycroft pushed him away. "Get off of me Sherlock."
Sherlock stumbled backwards and looked up at his brother with a hurt expression on his face.
Mycroft looked away from Sherlock. "I'm going to unpack. And tell Jones that I don't want him in my bedroom. I'll keep it tidy myself."
"Ok, Mikey." Mother said, patting her eldest son gently on the cheek.
Mycroft turned slightly, moving his face away from his mother's touch. "It's Mycroft." He said irritably before hurrying up the stairs, ready to lay down the law with this new butler.
"Does Mycroft not like me any more?" He heard Sherlock say from the bottom of the stairs.