(Nicky is Anthea's son. Read chapter 79 of Insomnia for more details!)

Mycroft helped Nicky into his pyjamas. He was very small for six. His tiny body already covered in scars from a dozen operations. Mycroft ensured he was wrapped snugly in his dressing gown before sorting out the boy's medication. Not just one or two pills, to be taken with water. A whole bowlful of them. It looked like a bowl of sweets. Only there was nothing sweet about it. Some of the pills made him sleepy. He snuggled up against Mycroft's soft cashmere jumper and his head began to droop.

Nicky liked Mycroft. He wasn't quite sure why. All the grownups seemed to be scared of him. Which was just silly, because Mycroft wasn't scary at all. Mycroft let him sneak biscuits when mummy wasn't looking. Nicky wasn't really allowed biscuits. Mycroft let Nicky slide up and down the polished floor of his office. Sometimes, Mycroft would take his shoes off and slide up and down as well. And Mycroft always seemed so very sorry when Nicky had to take his medicine. Which was silly as well, because it wasn't really Mycroft's fault.

And every so often. And this was the big secret. The one that only Nicky, and Mycroft and Mummy knew. Sometimes Nicky was allowed to stay at Mycroft's house. And then he was allowed to stay up late and watch Horror films and eat ice cream.

And then the secret that only Nicky knew. Or maybe it wasn't a secret, because he wasn't sure it was real. And if it wasn't real then it was just imaginary. And you couldn't have imaginary secrets. Because that would be really stupid. But sometimes when he went to sleep there was a man in his room. Not a scary man. A nice man. A nice man who smiled at him and watched him from the foot of the bed. Or sometimes sat in the chair next to it. Just like he was watching over him.

Mycroft carried him to bed. The small room just down the corridor from Mycroft's. Easily mistaken by visitors as a cupboard, but the door swung open to reveal spaceships on the curtains, glow in the dark stars on the walls and ceiling, and Doctor Who on the quilt cover. He slipped Nicky's Dalek dressing gown off and lowered him expertly in to bed. No one would ever believe Mycroft Holmes was good with children.

And it was then that Mycroft noticed The Giraffe sat patiently on the chair by the side of the bed. Mycroft thought he must have brought him in by accident when he was checking the room earlier that day. Nicky opened his eyes sleepily.

"Uncle Mikey can Wordsworth sleep here tonight?"

"Sorry?" Mycroft was sure he had misheard.

"Can Wordsworth sleep here?" Nicky reached out for the Giraffe, grabbing him by a leg and pulling him on to the bed.

"Yes of course." Mycroft paused. "Nicholas, Nicky, how do you know what his name is?"

Nicky pushed his blond hair from those big green eyes.

"The other man that lives here told me. The other Nicholas." Nicky snuggled down into the duvet, hugging on to Wordsworth. The Giraffe looked rather pleased with itself.

"Goodnight Nicky." Mycroft pressed his lips gently to Nicky's forehead, and made his way downstairs.

The horror film they had been watching was still playing out on the Television. Peter Cushing was just hammering home a stake into a female vampire. Mycroft poured himself a very large brandy and settled down to watch the end of the film.