A/N: This is only the second story I've ever written, so be gentle. This is very short, but is meant to be the introduction or prelude. I'm sure I'm not the only one with these sort of ideas, but I assure you that any similarities to other stories is completely unintentional and I apologize if it happens.

Summary: Mycroft Holmes had never particularly wanted a brother. Yet he never once wished he did not have one. A few snippets of the Holmes boys' relationship as they grow up.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything but the plot.

Permanent

Mycroft Holmes had never particularly wanted a brother. An exceptionally bright seven year old, he was well aware of the implications of a younger sibling. The child would be too young to be Mycroft's playmate, not that Mycroft played. Running about was dull, getting dirty and sweaty did not appeal to the boy at all. An infant would simply be an annoyance, someone to distract him from his studies and demand his parents' attention. He had not wanted a sibling. Yet from the moment Mummy had placed the blue-eyed baby in his arms, until the moment he drew his last breath, Mycroft Holmes never once wished he did not have one.