Sherlock Age: 19

"You don't understand anything Mycroft!"

"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU'VE DONE SHERLOCK?" It's the third shouting match this week.

"Maybe I would if you weren't shouting at me!"

"You don't get it, do you?"

"HOW CAN I?"

"YOU ALMOST KILLED SOMEONE SHERLOCK!"

"I DIDN'T KNOW!" Mycroft stamps his foot and shakes a finger at me from across the table,

"YOU SHOULD HAVE!"

"HOW COULD I MYCROFT?"

"MAYBE IF YOU BLOODY PAYED ATTENTION YOU WOULD HAVE KNOWN!"

"BUT MYCROFT-"

"NO BUT'S SHERLOCK! YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN LISTENING! I DON'T KNOW WHY I DO THIS ANYMORE! YOU HAVE PROVED TIME AND TIME AGAIN THAT YOU ARE NOT READY TO LISTEN, YOU ARE NOT READY TO DO WHAT IT TAKES. YOU HAVE PROVED THAT YOU CAN'T HANDLE IT."

"HE ALMOST KILLED ME MYCROFT!"

"AND YOU IN TURN NEARLY LET A VALUBLE EYEWITNESS DIE." I lower my voice dangerously,

"What do you really care about here Mycroft? Me? Or the case?" How the hell can he be blaming this on me? I only shot at him in self defense. How was I supposed to know that he was a major witness to a major crime? No one tells me these things, and Mycroft still drags me to them. Experience he says. I think he just wants to make me look like a fool. He's quiet a moment, as if trying to stop being angry, trying to calm down. It's not working though,

"WHY DO YOU THINK I'M SO UPSET SHERLOCK?" There he goes, shouting at me again. It makes my blood boil. I did nothing. Except maybe, almost, kill a man. He was trying to stab me though, so I don't know why. He's upset cause I nearly tipped his case over.

"BECAUSE YOU WANTED TO DO THIS YOURSELF! YOU KNOW IF YOU DIDN'T WANT MY HELP YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO BRING ME ON THE CASE! I AM JUST YOUR BROTHER AFTER ALL! NO ONE OF IMPORTANCE APPARENTLY. DO YOU KNOW WHY YOU BRING ME ON THOSE CASES?"

"WHY SHERLOCK! WHY DO I DO IT? BECAUSE I SURE AS HELL HAVE NO IDEA ANYMORE!"

"YOU BRING ME BECAUSE YOU NEED ME! YOU'RE TOO STUPID TO FIGURE IT OUT YOURSELF!"

"DON'T YOU DARE SAY THAT! THAT ISN'T TRUE!"

"WELL IF IT'S NOT TRUE, YOU COULD LEAVE ME HERE!"

"YOU'RE RIGHT! I SHOULD DO THAT! FROM NOW ON, I'M NOT BRINGING YOU ON ANYMORE CASES. THE ONLY REASON I BROUGHT YOU IN THE FIRST PLACE WAS BECAUSE I HAVE LEG WORK!"

"IT'S BECAUSE YOU'RE TOO LAZY FOR REAL DETECTIVE BUSINESS! THAT'S WHY YOU'RE INTO POLITICS NOW INSTEAD!" Mycroft makes a grab at me from across the table, digging his fingers into my arm,

"THAT ISN'T TRUE SHERLOCK!" I wrench my arm from his hand,

"DON'T TOUCH ME! I DON'T WANT YOUR FILTHY HANDS ON ME!"

"SHERLOCK!" He makes a move for me again, obviously still angry. He grabs my lapels and shoves me against the table. My back hits the hard corner, right in-between two vertebra. Oh God! That bloody hurt! "ARE YOU SERIOUS SHERLOCK? DO YOU NOT KNOW ANYTHING? ARE YOU THICK OR SOMETHING?"

"MYCROFT!" He shoves me into the table again, hitting the already burning place in my back, one more time.

"I MEAN WHAT THE HELL SHERLOCK? HOW COULD YOU EVEN SAY SOMETHING LIKE THAT?"

"MAYBE BECAUSE IT'S TRUE!" I brush his hands off my shirt and shove him back, I don't need this. Not right now.

"SHERLOCK! SHUT UP! YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!" He shoves me, and I push back. Oh God. We're going to fight. I should have seen this coming.

"I DO KNOW! YOU SAY ALL SORTS OF THINGS, AND NONE OF THEM ARE TRUE!"

"YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT! So just leave it Sherlock. Leave it!" I can't just drop it. I just can't. I know I shouldn't, not when Mycroft's mad. When he's mad, he's lethal. I grab his shoulder and he spins, landing a punch on my cheek, sending me into the table again. I will not have this.

"No Mycroft. I didn't want this."

"What did you want Sherlock? HUH?" This time he slaps me, hard.

"You STOP!" I swing at him, but he might be smarter then me when it comes to fighting. He grabs my hand and rams it back into my face

Present day

"You ever been in a fight Sherlock?"

"Of course John."

"Fist fight?"

"Obviously." John furrows his brow,

"With who?"

"Would you like me to make a list?"

"If you don't mind"

"Recently, no one, I've been lying low a bit."

"Right cause you get into fights all the time."

"I do solve crime John."

"Yeah but-"

"I've fought with Lestrade before."

"No you haven't."

"Yes I have!"

"When?"

"He didn't believe me."

"What?"

"It was a while ago. We were on a case, I had the killer, knew where he was and everything. Lestrade didn't believe me. So we fought."

"You had a brawl with a law enforcer?"

"He didn't say anything about it, we never speak about it."

"I don't think I count that Sherlock."

"Mycroft."

"Everyone fights with their siblings."

"Has Harry given you any nasty looking scars?"

"What?"

"Has she given you any scars?"

"Mycroft's given you a scar?" Sherlock unbuttons his shirt and takes his right arm out it's sleeve, showing John his right shoulder. It's dotted with lighter skin, like a glass broke on it. "What the Hell happened Sherlock?"

"We got in a fight. We were fighting in the kitchen. Obviously, Mycroft is much larger then me, especially when I was a teenager, young adult. He also knew how to fight better then me. He threw me into an open cupboard and-"

"He threw you into a cupboard?"

"Yes, and a drinking glass shattered because my shoulder blade was thrust into it so hard."

The fight continues

Mycroft wraps his arms around me and lifts me off the ground. I, uselessly, beat against his back and flail my legs, trying to get him to loosen his grip. Without a sound he rams me onto the counter and then into an open cupboard. My right shoulder explodes with pain as a glass that was behind me shatters against my shoulder. Mycroft doesn't seem to notice. He doesn't seem to really be thinking anymore. Must be in the zone. But oh God! My shoulder hurts. He slides me across the counter and I hit my head on the edge as he brings me down. Oh, that didn't feel good. I don't think I have enough energy to fight back anymore. I lay limply against the counter, my head and shoulder throbbing while he continues to whoop my arse. He grabs my lapels again and shoves me against the counter. This time though, I'm not as lucky. My head cracks the cheap wood of one of the cupboards above me and my vision starts to turn black. Time to end this.

"Mycroft..." I manage to whisper brokenly, from my cracked lips, before I succumb to the darkness."

Present day

"What happened then Sherlock?"

"He knocked me about a bit more, managed to knock me out. Next thing I know, I wake up in a hospital, too doped up on sedatives to even say anything. Mycroft did come to see me, but we never spoke of the incident."

"Oh."

"So. Do you believe me now?" Sherlock asks as he buttons his shirt up again.

"Bit more violence then I thought, but yeah."

"Good. Can we move on now?"

"What, don't like to talk about violence?"

"Not that, just don't like talking about my brother."

"I've got plenty of stories on my sister. Even more about the war."

"I'm sure you do, but I don't think now's the time to share. After all we do have a case."

"We do?"

"As of now we do."

"What?"

"A young woman was found by her brother, stabbed in the back in her flat. The door and windows had been locked all night. No one saw anyone go in, or out of the flat and no one heard anything. Right up my street. Now are you coming or are you going to sit there and be sentimental?" Sherlock got up and wrapped his scarf around his neck before slipping his coat on.

"Oh I couldn't resist." Sherlock smiles.

"I know you couldn't. The game, doctor Watson, is on."