Chapter Text
Sherlock was running down the halls, and over to his mum in the kitchen, "Cake!"
"Don't taunt your brother like that, Sherlock," Mum laughed, picking him up, making him airborne. The boy laughed, giggled even, a big grin plastered on his face. When she let him down, he said, "It's papa's birthday, did you make cake?"
Mum tensed at the mention of papa, "Go along with your brother at the garden," Mum said as she took his hand, leading him to said garden.
Sherlock had to wiggle his wrist out of mum's tight grip, "Mum, you always make cake on papa's birthday!" He whined, his fists balled at his sides.
The boy heard the sound of his annoying brother's voice, "What do you want, Mycroft?"
"I think it's best to go upstairs," Mycroft took his brother's little hand in his, saying something Sherlock couldn't quite understand in mum's ear, mum hugging him tightly and walked briskly into papa's study.
Mycroft looked down at his brother, "Do you still want me to walk the plank?" Sherlock all but dragged his brother's fat bottom up the stairs.
--
Myc took his hand as Sherlock was about to poke his sword at his side, "I've to tell you something, 'Lock."
It was never something good when Myc called him that. The boy slowly put his sword down, removed his eye patch, and hat, "Why did mum cry?" He asked quietly, worrying his lip.
"Been practising, I see," Myc said as he gathered him in his lap, "It's about papa." Myc took a big breath, "He's not--"
Sherlock was smart enough to know the end of that sentence,"P-Papa?" He held his breath. Papa said pirates never, ever cry.
"you use your heart as a weapon," Myc said, pressing his a light kiss to his forehead, "Don't build walls, Sherlock. Never do that," Sherlock buried his face into the crook of his brother's shoulder, letting Sherlock soak his shirt, "In the long run," Myc took another breath, rubbing the small of his brother's back, "it'll-- it hurts like heaven."
(Sherlock never listened to his brother.)