Caring is not an advantage.

"Sherlock, come down" Mycroft shouted, knowing that despite his brother currently violently playing violin, he would hear him. Seconds later he heard a grumble, and the door slammed as his younger sibling slumped down the stairs, leading into the library.

"What, Mycroft?" Sherlock moaned, obviously annoyed at being disrupted. He threw himself down onto one of the leather sofa's that adorned the room, and snuggled into it, avoiding looking at anything that might disturb his concentration that was now shifting through his mind mansion, sorting all the new details into good and bad memories.

Mycroft took a deep breath, and sighed. He knew this conversation wasn't going to go well, and to top it all off, Sherlock was already in a bad mood.

"Sherlock…Our parents…"He couldn't bear to say it, but he knew he didn't have too.

Sherlock whipped around, his eyes wide. Mycroft saw, just for a millisecond, terror in his eyes, but he soon composed himself, and was back looking as he was just seconds before.

"How?" he asked, needing to know the facts.

"Car crash. Samuel, the new chauffeur, was at the wheel. Some incompetent person in a range rover decided it would be a good idea to drive after drowning himself in alcohol at the local pub."

Sherlock imagined the scene. The deaths would have been quick, he supposed.

"Sherlock…" Mycroft continued, knowing this could well be the hardest bit for him to accept, despite the tragedy of the first part. "I'm sending you off to Cardiff Sixth Form College" he then tried to continue over the unhidden gasp that had escaped from Sherlock. "now don't worry, it has over 99% A & B pass grades for A Levels, and you know that you can't stay here, not when I go back to Cambridge. And you would be boarding anyway, so I need to know you are somewhere where I can keep an eye…"

At this point, he could no longer continue, as Sherlock shouted at the top of his voice

"No!

Mycroft, I'm fine doing my experiments here in Holmes Manor. Mummy and Daddy were hardly around anyway, so it's not like it'll affect my work. Please don't make me go back to College! I know all that stuff, anyway. They're all so stupid!"

Mycroft had to agree with this. He had already had a meeting with the headmaster of the college, and he seemed like a talentless, incompetent idiot. But he couldn't admit this to Sherlock. He knew this wasn't why he didn't want to go.

"Look, it's the best college in the country, I went there. And you're going, there's no question about that… now go and pack, I'm sending you a week early, because I need to prepare for University."

Sherlock groaned at the lack of conversation and closed his eyes, sighing. His parents were dead, and he wouldn't be seeing Myc for months. Not that he did usually, anyway.

"Mycroft... what do we do now?" he sounded so childlike, so unsure, that Mycroft couldn't bear to turn and look at his brother. "We wait and see, Sherlock. I'll deal with all of this, I promise. Remember, caring is not an advantage". He slowly walked from the room, closing the door behind him.

Sherlock groaned at this, and curled into a ball, ignoring his brother's words. He knew how stressful the following week would be, and he knew that he wouldn't be sent to college early, as that would mean him missing the funeral, which he would not.

But oh, how college was useless.

He had to talk to people. Had to have a roommate. A roommate