"ARRGGG! I am a p-p-pirate!" the boy bellowed, waving is cardboard sword.

"Don't forget me Sherlock!" another boy giggles, stepping into the bedroom. "I am your first mate!" Wide eyed, Sherlock looked up, staring at the blonde boy.

"How long have you be-been th-th-there John?" he stuttered, lowering his sword and removing his toy hat. The other boy took another step forward.

"Not long, prwomise!" John smiled, picking up Sherlock's hat. "Lets play!" Sherlock dropped in the middle of the room, crossing his arms and legs in defeat. An over excited John ran around the room making priate noises at the top of his lungs.

"John s-s-stop! Pirates are stoooopid," Sherlock complained, hugging himself tighter.

"They weren't when you were being a pirate!" John argued, sliding across the floor to Sherlock on his knees. "Ouch," he said, hugging his carpet-burned knees.

"Why are yo-yo-you in here?"

"This is my room silly!" John joked, swaying his weight from side to side in boredom.

"No. Why are you pre-pre-pretending to like me? M-Mummy and Daddy aren't h-h-here." he spluttered.

"I don't - I don't pretend! You're my friend!"

"Are you making fun of m-me?" Sherlock yelled, "Go away! Mummy! Mumm-my! John is being m-mean!"

"No-no! Please," John's eyes started to well up, as he cradled himself. Mrs Holmes and Mrs Watson appeared, taking their son son and grandson into their arms. "He said I was being mean, I wasn't being mean Prwomise Nanny!"

"Ok, calm down both of you," she consoled. "What happened? Sherlock?"
"He was m-making fun of my st-st-stutter, like e-everyone at s-school," the boy trembled from behind his mothers shoulder. He was still learning how to control his emotions, like Mycroft, his older brother, did. He would spend hours observing his brother, watching how he reduces and suppresses his emotions towards everyone, but that boy called Greg.

"John, is this true? You know how much work Sherlock has put into working on his speech, with all the help of Greg and everyone," Mrs Holmes said scornfully. John's eyes widened in fear, he shook his head violently. "Ok then, I will believe you. You two play nice now, come on Linda," she said leaving the room with the older woman.

"Cheer up Sherly," John said poking the boy next to him. Unlike other five year olds, John was very sensitive to other people's emotions and was able to sense other people's feelings towards him. He knew that Sherlock didn't like him but was forced into playing together because of their parents. Even though John liked Sherlock because he was smarter and funnier than the other children on the street, he went on pretending he didn't like him to please Sherlock. He regarded Sherlock as his only friend.

"Don-don't call me that," Sherlock huffed, deleting the previous events. He had learnt to forget, or as Mycroft called it - delete, his old memories from Mycroft. "Wanna-na play?" He picked up two swords and handed on timidly to John. He stood swaying from one side to another, mimicking a sword fight. "Come on its f-f-fun! I want to be a p-p-pirate!" He chimed. John snatched a sword and playfully stabbed the other boy in the ribs. They started to run around the large, suburban house, giggling as they ran.

Half an hour later, the boys arrived back at John's bedroom, sweating and out of breath. "Lets play doctors now!" John breathed heavily. Sherlock nodded reluctantly and laid down on the bed. John always played the doctor, but Sherlock didn't mind being the patient as it meant he didn't have to do much. Once doctor John had finished examining his patient he let out a couple of tuts and announced, "no good, I am going to have to amputate this arm at once." He ran his fingers around Sherlock's bicep making him shiver. John pulled out his cardboard sword and positioned it, sitting down on Sherlock's chest. Sherlock eye's widened in terror.

"N-n-n-n-n-no! P-p-please!" Sherlock pleaded, shaking around.

"Don't worry, it's pretend," John whispered calmly into Sherlock's ear before pretending to cut off his arm.

"Thank you doctor, I feel much better," Sherlock proclaimed.

"Sherly! Sherly! You didn't talk funny-like! It was the arm, I knew it!" John disclosed. Sherlock beamed up at the boy sitting on him.

"Yeah it must have been! P-p-please can you get off m-me?" Sherlock said opening a sudoku.

"Sherlock?"

"Y-yeah?" he said, trying to look interested in what John has to say.

"Where did Redbeard go?" John asked, remembering that the Holmes' family dog has been missing for about a week now.

"M-M-Mummy and Daddy said he h-had gone to live on a farm with lots of other doggies just li-like him!" He exclaimed happily.

"I bet he is very happy," John replied innocently, extending his arms as if to show how big the farm would be..

"Oh, little brother, you don't really believe that do you?" Mycroft appeared at the bedroom door. "A happy little farm?"
"Yes I d-do!" Sherlock said.

"Oh talk normally will you. Stop with this s-s-stutter," Mycroft mocked.
"That's not very nice!" John stood up defensively and puffed out his chest. "What are you doing here?"

"Shut up John! I am eleven now and I don't want to have a kid brother crying everywhere. If you really want to know what happened to Redbeard, I will tell you. He was injected with a lethal poison with killed him." Sherlock cried out in despair.

"What's wrong sweetie?" Sherlocks mother appeared in the doorway, pushing past Mycroft to get to Sherlock. "What has happened?"

"M-M-M-Mycroft said that R-Redbeard is d-d-dead!"

"Mycroft! How dare you!" She exclaimed in shock. "I did not raise you this way. It's ok Sherlock, ok?"

"Oh please Mother, he has to know some day," and he left again. John looked behind him and saw Sherlock wiping his eyes discreetly. He ran over and hugged him with his Mother.

"Get off m-me! I am fi-fine," Sherlock protested before leaving the room.

Whilst was left John sat in his room reading his school book to Mrs Holmes', Sherlock scouted around his neighbours house. He went through each room finding two dirty towels in the lounge, a banana peel in the kitchen and something called a 'condom' in Mr and Mrs' Watson's room. Sherlock had begun to grow more inquisitive with age, his parents told him he was like his brother. Sherlock made his way back to the downstairs bathroom to investigate this 'condom'.

"Sherlock, you have been in the bathroom for a long time now, are you ok?" Mr Watson asked through the door. Sherlock had started to fill this mysterious 'condom' with water and was mentally noting the changes in size and texture. "Is that water? Sherlock if you don't answer me right now… That's it, I am getting your mother!" Sherlock heard footsteps fade away. He made a mental note to ask Mycroft about condoms later, "Mycroft knows everything" he thought to himself.

"Sherlock, open the door," his mother said harsely through the door.

"O-okay…" he replied unsurely, opening the door. The condom had exploded, and there was water and fragments of it all over the bathroom. An astonished "woah" came from John who had appeared from behind his Grandmother.

"Sherlock! What have you done?"

"No-no-no-no-nothing! It was just an e-ex-experiment… See, I fou-found this con-dom thing in their bathroom," he said pointing at Mrs Watson, "and I didn't kn-know what it was so I tested it. What is a co-condom, Mummy?" He asked turning to his mother. Mrs Holmes felt her cheeks turning red.

"What were you doing going through their stuff? Thats rude Sherlock," his mother scorned. "Say sorry."
"Wow…" John repeated, awestruck.

"Sorry-" he paused, "what is a condom M-M-Mummy?"

"Not now dear. Help clean this up, John can you help too? Again, I am so sorry Linda."
"It's ok, it's getting late anyway. You guys head home and we will see you next week," she replied. Nodding, Mrs Holmes and Sherlock left, both red in the face.

The week after, the two families had planned to meet again in a fancy restaurant at the heart of London. Sherlock, John and John's grandparents shared a car because Mycroft insisted on taking his friend Greg with them. The two boys sat in the back seats of the car punching each other in the arm to see who had the higher pain tolerance.

"Ouch!" John yelled. "That really hurt Sherlock."

"Not my fault you f-f-feel p-pain. It doesn't have to af-af-affect you, you know? You can ig-ignore it and live on. I learnt th-th-that from Mycroft!" he beamed at his likeness to Mycroft.

"That's not very nice it is?" Mr Watson piped up. "You can't hurt people Sherlock and then tell them not to be hurt."

"It was ju-just an ex-experiment!" he defended. "Thanks a lot John," he cursed under his breath.

"I heard that," Mr Watson said looking into the rear view mirror. "Now you two better behave tonight. This is a nice place and I remember what happened last time… That means no attacking waitresses, Sherlock."

"Ok sir," Sherlock played with his thumbs. "So, John. Where's your D-D-Daddy?" Mr and Mrs Watson exchanged nervous looks.

"Not now Sherlock, ok?"

When they were seated at a window view table, the two families - plus greg, the table was split in two halves. At one end of the table Sherlock and John were colouring in a childrens menu, arguing about who got to use the blue crayon and who went outside the lines first; on the other end of the table Greg and Mr Holmes were in deep conversation about the year 6 SATs that Greg and Mycroft will be taking in a few months.

"You would think that for such a smart guy he would want to pay attention in school," Greg joked nodding at Mycroft next to him.

"Oh shut up. School means nothing and you both know that." Mycroft whined at his father who had uncharacteristically taken an interest in social interaction.

"May I take your orders?" A waitress hushed the loud table.

"What can you deduce My? Greg whispered.

"Not now," Mycroft whined.
"Why are you scared?" Greg teased, patting Mycroft knees jokingly.

"Ok, She's a failing college student, who has lost her parents so has to support herself with this waitressing job. Sorry, that's all I can get. I am so stupid. I am so sorry."

"No, you stop that right now, you are not stupid! That's more than anyone here could get," Greg tried to persuade him. He stopped patting Mycroft's knee and left his hand resting next to Mycrofts. Once the orders had been placed the table was left in awkward silence.

"So…" Greg paused, thinking, "your speech had definitely improved Sherlock."

"Oh yes! Since you started mentoring him, he has grown spectacularly. I am sure he is very thankful, as are we," Mrs Holmes smiled at her blushing son.

"It's because I am ol-ol-older now," Sherlock argued.

"Of course, Sherlock," smiled Greg before turning back to Mycroft.

"No need to be such a kiss ass, Greg," Mycroft muttered, his mother exclaimed in shock to her eleven year old sons language. "Oh please Mother."

"Mr Holmes can I talk to you in private please?" Greg asked, hinting towards the bar. "Anyone want anymore drinks?"

When they left the table with a list of beverages, Mycroft couldn't help watch Greg out. He felt different towards that boy. He had become so good at hiding his emotions that no one could figure if he was being serious or joking around, which is advanced for a child his age. However, he couldn't hide his feelings from Greg. He expressed his worry to his counsellor but all that she said was that he had a crush on Greg, Mycroft thought this statement was ludicrous. Smart, handsome, wondrous Greg, he thought to himself uncharacteristically.

"So Sherlock, how is school going?" Mr Watson asked trying to spike up conversation.

"B-boring. Everyone there is h-h-horrid to me because of the way I s-sp-speak."

"Don't listen to them champ," Mr Watson responded proudly. "You missed a spot," he said pointing to a white spot on the colouring sheet. WHen Greg and his father returned, both Sherlock and Mycroft noticed that Greg had put some product in his hair and Mr Holmes' hand was around his shoulders.

"There's something Greg would like to ask you," Mr Holmes announced, nudging Greg forwards and unintentionally getting everyone's attention.

"Um- Mycroft- um," he started almost in tears. He could feel everyone's eyes staring at him, burning.

"Get on w-w-with it," Sherlock said, face centimeters away from his meal.

"Shut up stutter boy," Mycroft rowed angrily before turning back to Greg.

"Will- will you be my boyfriend? Your dad said it was ok and-"

"Yes!" Mycroft half yelled, jumping into his arms.

The next day, at midday, Greg arrived at the Holmes' house crying.

"Good-good morning Mrs Holmes. Is Mycroft there?" Greg said through waves of tears.

"Sure sweet," she replied smiling, indicating for Greg to come inside. Greg slowly walked in, and tried to wipe his face. A few minutes later, he found himself in Mycroft's room hugging his boyfriend tightly.

"What's wrong?" Mycroft asked caringly.

"My birth mum got in contact with me… I don't know what to do," Greg sobbed into Mycroft's shoulder. "She wants to meet me, I don't want to meet her- I don't-" Not knowing what to do, Mycroft awkwardly patted him on the back.

"You can do what you want. I am here," he said drawing back his face so they were staring into each others eyes. Greg's cheeks became rosey. Mycroft leaned into his ear and whispered, "don't tell anyone this but I like like you."