Listen Closer

Youngest

Mycroft let Sherlock walk past him to the examination table. He stood behind his little brother, as usual, just barely pressing his side against Sherlock's, like he always did. It was an apology that he knew Sherlock would never accept, but he did it anyway, it was the one thing he allowed himself to hope for.

Sherlock gave Molly a greeting that sounded as close to an apology as he had ever heard his brother give. Only, as he thought about that, he realized it wasn't quite true. Sherlock had given one apology, just one. Unfortunately, at the time, Mycroft thought it meant something far from what it actually did and so he didn't listen. How long had it been? How long had he been trying to fix it? The answer to both happened to be the same, far too long.

Mycroft could feel his brother trembling. Not that anyone would be able to see it, not with that coat, but Mycroft always knew when his little brother was upset. Their hands were shielded by the height of the table and the position at which Molly was standing. Mycroft couldn't help but think that this was good for Sherlock, after all, who better would understand the importance of appearances than the British Government himself. When Molly pulled the sheet back, there was a nearly imperceptible sharp intake of breath from his little brother. Mycroft brushed his hand against Sherlock's, offering a touch of comfort. He was nearly surprised, and only nearly because Mycroft is never surprised when Sherlock grabbed his hand for a long moment and squeezed. He was careful not to react outwardly to the touch, only tightening his grip for a second before in acknowledgment before letting Sherlock's hand fall away.

Sherlock gave his confirmation to Molly before sweeping out of the room, Mycroft noticed, however, even his melodrama was lacking its usual grandeur. Molly asked him something, although he wasn't really listening. He managed a quick smile before heading after his brother, thinking that this must be really bad. He offered the customary apology, pressing the side of his body against Sherlock's and found himself at a loss for words. The problem was that he didn't understand why Sherlock was so upset about this Adler woman. She was interesting, but interesting things come and go. What made her so special?

Mycroft resolved to stop thinking about what to say and instead think about what Sherlock needed. A reprieve, from the emotions, from the noise inside his head. Sometimes what Sherlock needed was the same thing Mycroft did every once in a while, a cigarette. There was a time when Mycroft not only wouldn't have offered but would have taken it away from Sherlock if he tried to procure one. Now though, he holds one out in offering, silently telling Sherlock what he thinks words wouldn't be able to say. There is an understanding there finally, the recognition in his brother's eyes. In that moment, Mycroft realizes that nothing ever has been or ever will be destructive enough to deny Sherlock having it.

There was always the thought that William wouldn't handle the other children well. He really had only ever been exposed to Mycroft, which meant that he was generally disappointed with everyone else he encountered.

William didn't know how his big brother did it, he always knew just what to say to people, no one ever said anything means to him. All the other stupid children laughing at him and the awful teachers calling him 'Willy'. No, it just wouldn't do. Mycroft could fix it, he could fix anything and everything. Mycroft isn't like the other children, he is smart and he is only ever annoying sometimes.

Mycroft sat on the bench at the edge of the park. Normally he watched William run around for the afternoon while Mummy was out but today the little five-year-old didn't want to run. He sat on Mycroft's lap and licked his ice cream cone while his big brother wiped away all the drips with his handkerchief. Mycroft couldn't help smiling at the faces William made when he got 'brain freeze' as they say.

"Ouch"

"Hmm, yes. I believe the colloquial term is brain freeze. The blood vessels contract when left exposed to the cold for extended periods and the nerves around them send signals directly to those in your brain, causing a temporary, but a painful headache."