Mycroft stared at his plate and cleared his throat. He pushed his mashed potatoes to the side of his plate and distracted his parents with conversation. "It's so nice coming home from university."
"We're glad you're home, Myc." His parents refused to use his full name, despite it being on his birth certificate.
Mycroft chewed some of his broccoli up and discreetly spit it in his napkin, pretending to be wiping his mouth. "Excellent cooking, Mother."
Sherlock, though he was still a teenager, frowned. He could see right through Mycroft's act. Making conversation, hiding some food, condensing it all to give the illusion that some of it had been eaten… it was child's play. Sherlock wondered how his parents missed it.
Mycroft had been consumed with the idea that he was overweight. Sherlock knew that statistically, he was not overweight but Mycroft wouldn't have it. In his own eyes, he was grossly large and it killed his self confidence.
Later, after dinner, Mycroft nearly had a heart attack when Sherlock approached him from behind.
"Sherlock!" Mycroft yelped, turning around quickly. "What do you want?"
"You're not fat, Mycroft." Sherlock announced and left.
Mycroft stared after him until he shut his bedroom door. His brother was such an enigma oftentimes but other times, so predictable and easy to understand.
AN - Sorry for not posting yesterday. The winter storm has been a little bit chaotic, especially towards the roadways. Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed that drabble. Thanks VioletErin.26 and Prothoe for your kind words :)