A/N since I don't know the age difference between Sherlock and Mycroft I'm making it so that Sherlock is 7 and Mycroft is 13. I'm also adding in Sherrinford who's gonna be about 16. Wahoo! Let's continue.
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Sherlock's POV
I glared at Mycroft, tears staining my cheeks. He stared blankly back at me.
"Caring isn't an advantage Sherlock. Remember that." I stomped upstairs to look for my mother. Maybe she would talk to Mycroft. I had done something wrong but Mycroft wouldn't forgive me for it, it wasn't fair. I had said sorry loads already. Of course, he hadn't been nice and Sherrinford wasn't here to help.
"Mummy-" I began, walking into my parent's room "-Mycroft won't forgive me even though I said sorry." My mother sighed and turned around to face me.
"Listen Sherlock, what you did was very wrong. I know that it was wrong for your father to react like that, but you need to learn how to fight your own battles." I nodded and left. I wanted to talk to Mycroft.
I found him sat in his room at his desk. He spoke to me without even turning around.
"Go away brother, I don't wish to speak to you." I ran up to him and placed my hand on his shoulder.
"Listen Myc, I'm sorry about what happened. I didn't mean for it to." Mycroft glared at me and focused back on his schoolwork.
"The name is Mycroft, now go away." Fresh tears threatened to spill so I fled from the room and ran into my own, trying not to remember what had happened.
-Flashback-
That morning
"SHERLOCK! MYCROFT! Who did this?!" Our father yelled from downstairs. Sherrinford was away at school camp so I realised that I didn't have anyone to blame. Then I remembered. Mycroft! He'd said a while back that if I ever needed his help he would back me up. So I ran downstairs and looked at the vase that I'd accidentally smashed earlier. It would be fine.
"Father, it was Mycroft. He was practising cricket when the ball hit the vase." I watched with interest as our dad's face became contorted with anger.
I didn't remember much of what happened after that, it was too scary. Mycroft was wrongly accused of something he didn't do. By me. His own brother. As much as I yelled and screamed that he didn't do it my father wouldn't stop hitting him and shut him in the bedroom closet. Mycroft wouldn't speak to me for the rest of the day. I wasn't surprised.
-Flashback Over-
I sat trembling in my bedroom. I knew that Mycroft would come in sooner or later. It wasn't fair that he'd been beaten to a pulp. I was aware that it was my fault, but that didn't mean that our own father should have taken to abuse. The door creaked open and hide in my duvet cave, afraid of what was about to happen. A shadow fell across the bed in front of me. I squirmed my way as far back as I could get but hit my spine against the wall.
"Sherl-" Mycroft sighed "-don't run please. I want to say that I forgive you. I just hope that you've learnt your lesson." I let out a small whimper.
"I'm so sorry Myc, this is all my fault. Blame it on me." Mycroft clambered in beside me and hugged my shoulders tightly.
"Don't worry Sherl, everyone makes mistakes. We just need to stick together and not let anyone in our way. Okay?
"Okay." We both sat quietly in the gloom, thinking about our father.
A/N alrighty alrighty. Part of me isn't very happy with this one but as I've already changed the plot line a few times I don't want to go back again and remake it. So I hope you enjoy. (I know it's kind of short too but please forgive me 😇) Baiiii-L