A/N: This is for a Skyfire challenge. The challenge is Child!Sherlock. All I'm going to say for the moment. Enjoy! :D

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock Holmes.


Mycroft jerked awake as he heard sobbing in the room next to his. The nursery, where his five- year- old brother slept. Mycroft closed his eyes, half- hoping his brother would go back to sleep, but the memory of how horrible his own nightmares had been, coupled with another cry, this one louder than it's predecessors, shattered his hopes.

With a sigh, Mycroft heaved himself out of bed, grabbed his dressing gown and went next door to his brother. He opened the door to the nursery and stood in the doorway, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

When they did, Mycroft picked his way around parts of random items Sherlock had pulled apart to investigate how they worked. He reached Sherlock's bed, without tripping over anything, as the little boy whimpered again.

Mycroft touched Sherlock's shoulder and whispered, "Sherlock."

The boy stirred, but didn't awaken. Mycroft said his name again and gave his shoulder a little shake.

Sherlock shot upright, his mouth open to scream, but Mycroft quickly planted his hand over Sherlock's mouth.

"Sherlock," Mycroft hissed.

The five- year- old blinked his terror filled eyes and turned his head to look at his brother. "Myc'oft?"

Mycroft sat on the edge of the bed. "Yes."

The boy visibly relaxed and Mycroft put an arm around the child's shoulders. They were silent for a few minutes, until Mycroft asked, "What was your dream about?"

Sherlock shifted, and by the moon's light streaming through the window, Mycroft saw him point at a vague, shapeless shadow. "That was after me."

Mycroft stood and touched the shadow. "A coat?" He glanced skeptically at his brother. He knew that Sherlock knew that this was a coat. Something else had scared him.

Mycroft sat next to his brother again and said quietly, "You knew that was a coat. What was your dream really about?"

There was a flash of uncertainty in Sherlock's grey eyes and Mycroft knew. Sherlock had was terrified of all this overwhelming data he sees on a daily basis. The child doesn't understand and know how to control this constant influx of information.

As the child sleeps, his brain pieces the information together, subconciously, what he had seen during the course of that day. His brain was giving him a mental, visual report.

Mycroft hugged his brother closer to himself. He knew what Sherlock was going through. He had been here himself, but unlike Sherlock, Mycroft didn't truly have anybody to teach him, show him how to turn this constant vision of images and sounds that melted into each other as if they were one, off.

"It's alright, Sherlock. I'll help you understand. You are smart enough for your age. The bad dreams will go away," Mycroft whispered.

Sherlock shifted so that he could return his brother's hug. The little boy soon found himself falling asleep. He didn't fight it, this time, because he knew his big brother will protect him and watch out for him as he slept.

The year 1891

"Sherlock, I wish you would reconsider!"

"Mycroft, you know as well as I, that if I don't leave for the Continent, you will never again get the chance to capture Moriarty."

Mycroft sighed as he watched his brother pace up and down his living room. He did know that. He, also, was afraid the price for Moriarty captured or dead will be too high a price. The only price his brain could think of was his own brother's death.

Sherlock paused in his pacing and looked at Mycroft. He guessed what his brother was thinking about. "Mycroft, I am not planning to die, but here are all my legal papers... just in case," He said slowly, gesturing to a nearby table that had a bundle of papers tied together with a black string. Sherlock had broken eye contact when he spoke of his probable death. "Mycroft, I will write to you if I survive. If I don't, Watson will tell you," Sherlock continued quietly. He felt something stinging his eyes and quickly turned his back to Mycroft, who's eyes were, also, shining suspiciously.

"Dr. Watson doesn't know, does he?" Mycroft asked, his voice slightly thicker than usual.

Sherlock rapidly blinked his eyes dry and said, "No, he doesn't know anything, yet." He faced Mycroft again.

Mycroft shoved himself out of his armchair and hugged Sherlock. "Be careful, Sherlock. Don't let this fiend get the better of you. Remember what I have taught you."

Sherlock returned the hug, slightly awkwardly. "I will," he promised.

Mycroft pulled away and said, "I shall be watching your back from here."

Sherlock smiled and rested his hand on his brother's shoulder. He knew this as well.

Mycroft had been there for Sherlock when he needed him most. He felt a great deal safer with Mycroft behind him, whatever the outcome of this final problem.


A/N: *wipes tears from eyes* I didn't know I had it in me. *takes a deep breath* Okay, I'm back to my normal self. I'm pretty sure this didn't really match the requirements of Skyfire's challenge, but I am so not deleting this story. This is probably the most touching one I have written. This was, also, not my original idea. I just write it how the plot bunnies want it. :)) I hope you enjoyed! :D