BBC Sherlock Imagines

Sherlock and Mycroft (As Kids)

"Sherlock tuck in your shirt, you look ragged," hissed Mycroft. He glanced at his little brother in all his curly haired glory and sighed. No wonder he got beat up.

"Why does it matter? Nobody cares about what I look like."

"I care, people already make fun of me enough for being related to a psychopath, the least you could do is look presentable." Sherlock glared at his brother and tucked in his shirt unwillingly. 

"Are you ready to go? We're going to be late."

"Coming," called Sherlock as he grabbed his scarf and wrapped it around him.

~

"Ay, Shitlock!" Sherlock sighed and continued inspecting the rocks in front of him. 

"Ay, I'm talking to you!" Ignore, ignore, ignore. This rock is a darker color from all the others, could possibly be from an animal peeing on it, of course what animal would it be? Squirrels live around here no doubt but-

"Did you not hear me the first two times?" Two rough hands pushed Sherlock to his side, and he felt a blow come to his leg. He cringed, but stayed silent, that was the only way he would leave.

~

Across the playground, Mycroft watched the scene play out. He wanted nothing more than to help his little brother, but by letting him fight his own battles he was helping him - or so he liked to think.

"Your move," muttered Mark. It was safe to say that Mycroft was kicking his arse, but he didn't care, he always did, chess was easy, a simple game. He remembered teaching Sherlock how to play. He taught him the secrets, the shortcuts, the ins and outs of every part of the game. Sherlock understood quite easily, he was smart no doubt, and Mycroft felt a swell of pride rise inside of him. But it was gone instantly as he glanced up and still saw Sherlock in fetal position while Roger hollered insults and striked him occasionally. Time to step in.

"Roger." The burly boy turned around and eyed him.

"Mycroft."

"Leave the poor boy alone, you know he can't defend himself."

"Exactly why he's fun to pick on. You're lucky Myc came and saved your scrawny arse." Roger stomped off, but Sherlock remained in fetal position. Mycroft stepped closer.

"He's gone."

"I know."

"Sherlock you have to learn to defend yourself." 

"He weighs exactly 112 pounds more than me, all he has to do is sit on me and he wins."

"Find a way to sit on him, figuratively, not literally." Sherlock pushed himself off the ground and brushed off his pants. He was no doubt small for a boy of 8. 

"Use your brain Sherlock, I know you have one somewhere in there." Sherlock's head continued to hang low, his curls covering his eyes. 

"I'm only kidding brother dear, I know you have one. Your smarter than everyone here, besides me, even the professors." A pang of guilt shot through Mycroft as Sherlock sniffled.

"I thought you told me never to have sentiment. By the endearing tone of your voice and the compliment you just gave me, it seems, dear Mycroft, that you are feeling a sort of sentiment towards me," smirked Sherlock. Inside Mycroft gleamed at his little brother's sophisticated comeback, but on the outside he rolled his eyes. He turned to walk away, and when he knew Sherlock couldn't see him anymore, he smiled.

"I see that smile Mycroft, you taught me well." Damn, he was getting pretty good.

A/N

Little Sherlock and Mycroft, requested by one of my best friends. 

Still open for requests!