Work Text:
Sherlock couldn’t sleep. He turned from side to side in his bed, hugging his teddy bear tightly. Every time he as much as closed his eyes, he had to open them again to see if maybe the sun has already risen. But to his dismay the only light coming to his bedroom was the dimmed light of a lone street lamp, flickering every few minutes. For the first time in his life he felt nervous, someone would say maybe scared, but Sherlock Holmes wasn’t scared, not ever.
Of course his older brother, Mycroft would deny that.
Mycroft knew that Sherlock was scared the first time he couldn’t find his bear, crushing his in a hug as tight as his 4-year body could manage, after many hours of looking around the house, getting dirty searching all of the dusty corners before he got it out from under Sherlock’s bed.
He was scared when he broke his mother’s favourite vase, the one her sister brought from China, and he hid in Mycroft’s room, while he convinced his mother that „it was the immigrant servant, dear mother, I told you many times before that she can’t be trusted“.
He was there every time Sherlock shivered during a storm trying not to to cry, refusing to let go of his hand, putting a blanket around their arms.
Contrary to a popular belief Mycroft was not unhappy to have a younger brother. He didn’t have anything to complain about, Sherlock never bothered him like his classmates did, not like , Rey's, his friend's, sister who was already in primary school and wasn’t smart enough to do her homework on her own, nagging her older brother to help her. But Mycroft was worried that was about to change since it was the 31st of August and the next day Sherlock will join Mycroft at school for the first time.
Mycroft started wondering how would his school experience change once his younger brother joined St Jeremiah’s Primary School as soon as his parents happily announced it at the end of June. His father couldn’t be prouder, he preened while he explained that „it is very difficult to get a place there, Marion, remember how much trouble we had with Myke, don‘ t you? But my dear old friend, the headmaster, he’s saved Sherlock a spot!“. He knew that some of his classmates had siblings in lower grades, he's seen some of their interactions but only occasionally and from afar. But how much affection were you supposed to show in front of the others? Were you allowed to care? His school taught young boys from good families how to behave correctly, how to appeal to the higher levels of society. One of the most important lessons was to try to conceal any deeper feelings, since anything could be turned against you. And that was why Mycroft slowly started distancing himself from Sherlock.
It was very subtle at first. He started getting up much earlier, decreasing the chance of meeting Sherlock eating breakfast or even passing him wandering with sleepy eyes and a bedhead in the corridors, morning sun shining through the windows. Luckily for him some time ago his parents decided he was old enough to have his own room, so he didn’t have to worry about unnecessary contact and he wasn’t entitled to hold him when he had nightmares. Gladly Sherlock didn’t seem to notice. He stopped mentioning him in any conversations so that his classmates almost forgot that he had a brother.
But he had a brother.
It was his brother’s soft sobbing that he was listening to, lying flat on his bed in the middle of the night. Those thin walls have kept him awake. He was supposed to look intimidating the next day, how was he going to achieve that with bags under his eyes? He wasn’t going for the terrifying junkie look just yet. Why couldn’t he ignore that now and just go to sleep?
Despite his conscience telling him to close his eyes, he got up. He put on a robe, tied it around his waist and put his blue slippers on his feet. Then he left his room, heading towards the source of his insomnia. He knocked quietly, ignoring his heart beating faster at the sudden disturbance in the sobbing. Then he heard steps, one at a time, almost sluggish and through the crack of the door he saw his brother’s eyes shining with tears.
That’s what broke him. He came in and quickly put his arms around Sherlock, the younger Holmes reciprocating the gesture almost instantly. He would complain to himself later, after seeing the wet stains on his robe, not actually meaning it. If someone asks Sherlock will deny that ever happened. After all he was trying to be more like his brother. Even more fierce.
But in that moment they both felt safe. They didn’t have to pretend, they were just each other, two brother with not-so-perfect relationship. Ignoring their parents and their constant fights. They stayed like that for a while, listening to their heartbeats, until Sherlock calmed down. He wiped the remaining tears and pulled back. He smiled.
And Mycroft could tell him “Good luck tomorrow” and leave the room. And with that sentence in his head Sherlock survived his first day of school.