*Several Years Ago*
"Sherlock, look at me." Sherrinford said, touching his younger brother's pale cheek. Sherlock, barely eleven, glanced up at his brother. There was a frown plastered on his serious face.
"You know Redbeard died a long time ago." Sherrinford said in slight concern.
"I want to find him. My dog." Sherlock said, hugging his knees.
Sherrinford shook his head at his younger brother. "Redbeard is dead, you know that, Sherlock."
For a moment in his mind, Sherlock saw a young boy with red hair, but he pushed the thought aside, burying it in that curious mind of his. Every memory of Victor Trevor had been locked in a box in his mind. Every memory of his sister.
Sherrinford stood, watching his brother sitting on the carpet in front of the fire. "I have to go, Sherlock."
Sherlock's body slumped, but not a word escaped his lips. His older brother was always leaving, for his job. The job Sherlock was not allowed to know about. Mycroft had his theories, that scared Sherlock, but he did not ask. He knew not to question Sherrinford.
"You need to promise me, that you will make a list." Sherrinford said in a low voice, so that no one outside the room would hear. He swung the coat around his shoulders. "Brother?"
"Yes." came Sherlock's small, unemotional voice. Sherrinford gripped the boy's shoulder, and then left the room.
