Mycroft sighed when Sherlock knocked on his door. Every two hours Sherlock claimed to be bored and somehow the boy thought that Mycroft was responsible for his entertainment.
"You went for a walk, didn't you?"
"How did you know?" Sherlock asked.
"The edge of your trousers. They are wet from the snow." Mycroft was sitting on his bed reading. He could observe the smallest details without even looking up.
"I was bored!" Sherlock explained.
"I gave you a riddle two hours ago, you already solved it?"
Sherlock rolled his eyes.
"Yes, I solved it two hours ago about two minutes after you gave it to me."
"What about the math calculus I gave you on Monday?"
"Solved it."
Mycroft sighed. "Can't you just go to bed? I will give you something to do tomorrow, alright?"
Sherlock shook his head.
"I am not bored right now… at least not much. I wanted… to ask you something."
Mycroft looked up. Sherlock never wanted Mycroft to explain something to him. Sherlock didn't ask questions, he only answered them.
"If someone wanted sleep outside during this weather... would he survive?"
Mycroft raised his eyebrows. He surely didn't expect Sherlock to ask such a childish question.
"It depends on his clothes and how big he is." Mycroft answered.
"He is about as tall and thin as me. He is wearing three sweatshirts and two trousers, two pairs of socks but only thin leather shoes."
Mycroft shrugged his shoulders and looked down on his book again.
"I am pretty sure he would die of hypothermia in only a few hours. So whatever you are planning Sherlock, don't do it."
"I am not planning on doing anything it's just…"
"I am busy, brother dear. Go to sleep in your bed. Not outside."
"It's about a friend." Sherlock suddenly shouted. Mycroft looked on his brother again. The boy's behaviour was certainly strange today. Maybe the child was ill? He seemed to be paler than usual.
"You don't have any friends, Sherlock." Mycroft objected.
"I have! Just one… I think he is my friend… he helped me when I was ill."
Mycroft put his book aside. This was getting a bit interesting.
"Okay, your friend wants to camp today? You better tell him that he will die."
Sherlock shook his head.
"I tried to… He ran away from home. I think he is scared. He was beaten up by his father."
The young man narrowed his eyes. Sherlock was actually serious …and concerned?
"Where is he?" Mycroft wanted to know.
"At the boat-house on the playground."
A view minutes later Mycroft and Sherlock were on the playground. Sherlock pointed to the boat-house and Mycroft climbed into it much to Sherlock's surprise.
Mycroft saw the small boy, huddled in the corner of the room. He was pale and his lips were getting blue.
"Hey John." Mycroft greeted him. Sherlock had told him the boy's name beforehand. "I am Sherlock's brother Mycroft. How are you doing?"
Mycroft was still two meters away from the boy. He didn't want to scare him. He just got beat up by his parent, the person children were supposed to trust most. Mycroft had told Sherlock to wait outside. He didn't want to put pressure on the boy.
Big blue eyes were looking at him. "I'm … fi…ne." The boy answered. His teeth were chattering.
"Are you cold, John?"
The small boy nodded.
"How about we go home together? You can sleep in Sherlock's bed, he can have the couch. He is waiting outside for you. You can go anytime if you don't like it at our place."
The boy didn't answer. Although it was quiet dark Mycroft could see that boy's eyes were tearing up.
"Sherlock is worried about you. If you stay here you will fall asleep and never wake up. It's just too cold."
"I know." The kid answered much to Mycroft's surprise. "I know that people can die from hypothermia and I know its symptoms. I want to be a doctor one day."
"So you agree with me that you shouldn't stay here."
John seemed to think about it for a second.
"Kind of…"
"Do you want to go home with me and Sherlock."
John nodded.
"Then let's go."
Mycroft stood up and turned to the exit. But John didn't move. A few big tears rolled John's cheek down. First he Mycroft didn't understand but then he made his deductions.
"Can you walk, John?"
John shook his head.
"Are you too cold or are you hurt?"
"Both I think." John said.
"Is it alright for you, if I carry you?"
John nodded.
Mycroft walked to the boy and looked at him.
"Where are you hurt?"
"Left side."
Mycroft nodded and picked him up without hurting him any further.
He climbed out of the house with John in his arms. Mycroft could feel that the boy didn't have any strength left. John's head was resting on Mycroft's shoulder.
Sherlock looked concerned at John.
"I think he is asleep."
"He is pretty exhausted, Sherlock."
"Do you thing he will be alright."
"I think so."
When they arrived at home Mycroft slowly let John down on the coach. John was awake again though he seemed to be a bit confused.
"Sherlock, turn on the heating on maximum, bring another blanket and a first aid kit."
Normally Sherlock wouldn't listen to his brother but Sherlock wanted to help his friend.
Mycroft turned to John again. "Okay, John you shouldn't feel cold soon." He put a blanket around John's shoulders.
"Do you want to show me where you are hurt?" Mycroft asked after Sherlock brought the first aid kit.
John nodded. He pulled his shirts up and revealed a neat bandage. Mycroft took some scissors and cut it opened. Mycroft and Sherlock both held their breath as they saw the wound on John's stomach.
"How did that happen?" Mycroft wanted to know. Sherlock rolled his eyes.
"Isn't that obvious? His dad stabbed him with a broken beer bottle and John sewed it up himself. You can see that he did by himself because the part he couldn't reach well is done a bit messier."
"You still don't get the concept of tactfulness, do you Sherlock?"
Mycroft looked at stitches carefully.
"How did you know how to do that John? Those look pretty neat."
"I told you, I want to be a doctor one day."
Mycroft smiled. "I think we can leave it like this. There is no sign of an infection. But we have to check it every few hours. If you get a fever I will have to take you to a doctor immediately. I can give you some antibiotics. I am not a doctor, but I know a lot about medicine."
John nodded. "Thanks."
"Don't thank me, thank Sherlock."
Mycroft put some iodine on the wound, gave John some pills, antibiotics and pain killers, and carried him into Sherlock's room and put him on Sherlock's bed. The bed linen was fresh because Mycroft wanted to make sure that John's wounds didn't get infected.
Sherlock was sleeping on the couch without protesting and for the first time Mycroft thought that his little brother might not be a sociopath, which had been diagnosed by a psychologist a few years back.
Mycroft set up several alarms that night to check up on John. The little boy didn't wake up when Mycroft took his temperature and checked his pulse, but every time Sherlock woke up and asked Mycroft if John was alright.
The next morning John looked better. Sherlock brought him breakfast to his bed and Mycroft was surprised to find his brother actually communicating with another boy of his age. They were laughing and Mycroft was relieved in so many ways.
But it was clear to Mycroft that John couldn't stay with them and that John couldn't go home, too.
Mycroft was still studying but he had several ties to important persons and it wasn't hard for him to find a nice family who agreed to take John immediately. John would have to move to another town, but Mycroft made sure that John would get into a good private.
John had been at their place for three days when Mycroft decided that it was time for John to go. Sherlock was at school. Mycroft knew that it was mean to send John away while Sherlock wasn't there but he didn't want Sherlock to make a scene. It was hard enough for Mycroft anyway. He liked John too.
"John, we have to pick up your things from your place." Mycroft said. John was sitting on Sherlock's bed in Sherlock's clothes. Although the boy was two years older than Sherlock the clothes were too big for him. John nodded. Mycroft knew that John knew that he had to go.
They slowly walked to Mycroft's car. Mycroft was holding John's arm tightly. The young boy still had trouble walking.
John's home was only five minutes away.
Mycroft noticed that John got pale when they arrived.
"I am sorry, John, but we have to do that. I am with you, nothing will happen to you."
John smiled slightly. "I know."
They went up to the second floor.
John opened the door quietly and Mycroft guessed that John was used to walk into the apartment like ghost hoping that nobody would notice him.
"I am sorry for the mess." John said and blushed slightly.
When Mycroft entered the flat he was happy that John got out of there. It certainly was no environment for a kid. There were empty bottles and broken glass everywhere. It was filthy and the floor was sticky underneath his shoes. They entered a small room with a large, unmade bed. John took a few things out of cupboard and put it into a rucksack.
"Okay, I've got everything." He explained. Mycroft raised an eyebrow.
"I don't own a lot. " John explained further.
John and Mycroft were just about to leave, when a tall man entered the flat.
"John, there you are. Your sister thought you died or something." The man said. "She really gave me a hard time when she found that bloody piece of glass you left in the bathroom."
The man walked towards John. The boy started shaking. Mycroft stepped protectively between John and the man.
"My guess is you are Richard Watson?" Mycroft said.
"Yes, I am and who are you, brat?"
Mycroft smirked. "I am the man who will destroy your life. Well, at least what you haven't already destroyed yourself. I am taking John with me. You will never see him again." Mycroft looked at John, who seemed to be a bit confused. "- unless of course he wants to. But we will see each other again in court soon."
Mycroft turned to John and picked the little boy and his things up.
That day John left his father behind. John found a new family, a man and a woman who always had wanted to have children but never have been blessed with any. They loved John a lot and were proud of him when he finished school and university. They weren't happy when John left England to be a doctor in Afghanistan but they knew that it was what John wanted. They died in his first year in Afghanistan in a tragic car accident in London.
After John had left his father and her, his sister started to drink even more. She was an adult, Mycroft couldn't make her leave. The older John got the more she blamed him for everything.
The day John left was also the day Sherlock decided that Mycroft was his archenemy. He never forgave his brother that he had taken away Sherlock's only friend.