AN: Just a cute fluff story I thought up. Reviews are welcome. Thank you for reading. :)

"Sherlock! Sherlock, where are you?"

Silence lingered in the hall as no answer came. Mycroft sighed, starting to climb the stairs in search of him.

"We're not playing hide and seek, so please stop hiding..."

Still no answer. His brother was just being extremely stubborn today.

"Sherlock, I heard what happened..."

There. Maybe that would lure him out of his hiding place.

Sure enough, he heard the very audible sound of floor boards creaking, and immediately went toward the sound. He paused outside their parents room, pressing the palm of his hand to the coarse wood.

"Sherlock, are you in here?"

He pressed the door open slowly, looking into the gloom of the shaded room. His eyes scanned the room when he finally saw the closet door move back into place.

He entered the room and slowly started to walk toward the closet. He knelt in front of it, pushing it open gently to allow what little light was in the room, slip into the shadows of the closet.

"Sherlock, come out please. I just want to talk to you."

Once his eyes became accustomed to the darkness of the closet, he saw that Sherlock was in the back, his knees tucked up under his chin, his face buried in his knees.

"Sherlock..." He slipped into the closet, reaching out to touch his brother lightly on the arm.

Sherlock jerked his head up quickly at the touch. Even in the darkness you could tell that he had been crying. He quickly reached up to wipe his cheeks with the backs of his hands to keep himself away from further embarrassment.

"Go away..." He said, his voice wobbling.

"Sherlock, I want to help you."

"How?" He asked.

In answer, he merely extended his hand to Sherlock, hoping he'd take it. Sherlock looked at Mycroft's hand for a minute before slowly taking it, wrapping his fingers tight around it.

"Come out of here first, and then we can talk," promised Mycroft, keeping a hold of his hand as he helped him out of the gloom of the closet.

Once out of the closet, he sat on the edge of the bed, Sherlock sitting next to him.

"I heard you ran out of class today."

Sherlock bent his head, nodding it. Small tears trickled out of his eyes and silently trailed down his face. Mycroft studied Sherlock for a second as he kicked his short legs back and forth in front of him.

He placed a gentle arm around him, tugging him closer to him. Though he was only in the seventh grade, he was still Sherlock's older brother. He had to watch out for him.

"Sherlock, what happened?" he asked. "I was worried about you."

Sherlock lifted his head, his short black curls framing his face, his blue eyes filled with tears.

"I was teased. I...I couldn't take it. They made me feel as if I was strange..."

Sherlock's lip wobbled as he explained, leaning against his brother for comfort.

Mycroft gently rubbed his hand up and down Sherlock's arm.

"Why did they tease you?"

"Because I knew the answers..."

Sherlock gulped, trying to calm down.

"You knew the answers?" asked Mycroft, wondering why he had been bullied for that.

He nodded vigorously.

"I knew all the answers to every question. They called me a know-it-all, a teacher's pet...I...I couldn't take it...so I ran."

He pulled Sherlock closer to him, wrapping him in a hug.

"Sherlock...it's alright..."

"No, it's not. I...no one likes me..."

"Shh..." Mycroft kept him in a tight hug. "Kids are stupid."

"What do you mean?"

"They don't understand a good thing when it's right in front of them."

Sherlock sat up straighter, his cheeks stained red from the river of tears that had once been there.

"I still don't understand..."

"They are stupid to tease you. You are brilliant."

He reached up and used his thumb to wipe away a stray tear or two that lingered on his cheeks.

"No...they're right...I'll just stop giving out the answers in class..."

"No," said Mycroft firmly.

"No?" said Sherlock. "But then I'll still be bullied..."

"No you won't," promised Mycroft. "Don't let the kids bully you into being someone that you are not. You can't let them win. You have to stay strong and be yourself. I know you don't understand that now, and think I'm crazy for telling you that, but Sherlock, you're only in the first grade. You have your whole life ahead of you. You can't let these bullies affect you in this way. Someday they'll mature, and when they do, they'll be amazed at who you've become and ashamed for treating you that way."

Sherlock leaned his head on Mycroft's shoulder, sniffling as his tears slowed.

"You really think I should keep doing what I was doing?"

"I do. Keep answering all the questions. Don't give up on the person you are," said Mycroft. "I believe in Sherlock Holmes. You should too."

Mycroft smiled, kissing the side of Sherlock's head.

"I will always believe in you, Sherlock Holmes."

"Thank you, Mycroft," said Sherlock softly, resting against his older brother.

Mycroft smiled at the fond memory, as he stood in front of his office window, looking down at the drive. He watched Sherlock as he stood there, back erect, hands clasped behind his back. The edges of his coat flapped in the wind, almost like a cape. He held the curtain in his hand, watching as Sherlock turned to talk to John, getting animated with his hands. At least he had finally found someone besides himself and their parents, who saw what an amazing man he was.

He chuckled as he watched Sherlock storm off, in a fit of pretend irritation at John. That was the Sherlock he knew; the Sherlock that almost wasn't. Even now, he faced "bullies" like James Moriarty, but he had such confidence in himself now, there was no shaking him. That's what he had wanted. He wanted Sherlock to be able to believe in himself, and he did. All of London believed in him now.

"I will always believe in you, Sherlock," whispered Mycroft as he watched Sherlock and John get into a cab and disappear down the street.