I'll be nice to him one of these days. I swear I will. I'll right a nice story where everything works out gloriously for him and the sun shines and their buns for tea. But that's not this story I'm afraid.

He was known far and wide as the cleverest, wisest ruler the kingdom had ever known. He could solve any puzzle put to him and right all of his subject's woes and worries before they were even aware that they had them. His skill with the ivory keys of the palace's Grand Piano could make the strongest men weep and the saddest souls beam with joy and not one soul under his protection knew of famine or war, nor injustice or oppression.

The young ruler's skill and brilliance was unparalleled as was the adoration of his subjects. Wherever he went the joyous cry of his people calling his name followed.

"All hail the Prince," they'd call. "All hail our great leader, Prince-"

"Mycroft!"

Mycroft Holmes woke with a start, having been caught entirely unawares by his mother's sharp reprimand.

"I told you to get up an hour ago," she scolded, sweeping into the room and tugging the sheets he'd tried to hide amongst clean off the bed. "You'll be late for school."

Mycroft groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as he squeezed into a tight ball, blankets be damned.

"I don't want to go to school," he whined into his plush pillow.

"I couldn't care less whether you want to go or not Muffin-"

"Don't call me that!" Mycroft cried, curling up even tighter.

"But you are my little Muffin," Mummy clucked, sneaking a quick, wet kiss on his cheek before he could bury hide that as well.

"Mummy!"

"It really makes no difference darling, you're going to school."

Mycroft could feel tears prickling at the very thought of it.

"Mummy please."

"Now Mycroft, enough of this foolishness," Mummy snapped, tugging his pillow free so he was left lying alone on a bare bed. "You always get like this when you've not slept enough. When did you go to bed last night young man? It certainly wasn't when I sent you. Mycroft answer me!"

"Late," Mycroft mumbled, steadfastly avoiding her no doubt disapproving eye.

"Mycroft," Mummy sighed with a disappointed shake of her head.

Bowing his head, Mycroft slowly pushed himself up so he was sitting rather than lying there in that undignified and embarrassing heap.

"'m sorry Mummy," he shamefacedly mumbled.

"Mycroft there's a reason we have bedtimes."

"I know. I'm sorry," Mycroft whispered, biting his lip.

"Well I'll have to talk about it with your father tonight then, won't I?" Mummy sighed. "And you're just going to have to suffer through the day tired. That's what you get I suppose."

Mycroft nodded, his lip beginning to wobble somewhat between his teeth.

"Good," Mummy said with a sharp though approving nod. "I'll give you ten minutes longer to get ready, do you understand?"

"Yes Mummy," Mycroft whispered.

"Yes Mummy indeed. I don't want to come back in here and find you back asleep," Mummy warned.

And after another quick nod from Mycroft, she was satisfied enough to spin on her heel and return to where she'd no doubt been previously occupied, Sherlock's play-room, granting him enough privacy to change.

He sat for a moment longer on his bed, just to regain a little of his composure. He allowed himself a sniffle, a little more lip wobbling and a couple seconds worth of rapid blinking before forcing himself to cease acting like such an immature and uncivilized brat and focus. This was not, after all, behaviour befitting of a leader, past, present or future.

And with that thought in mind he slid off his bed and padded over to his wardrobe to fetch his uniform.

Unfortunately Grand Prince Mycroft, in all his majesty, had become a considerable problem for the rulers of kingdoms neighbouring his own. Many of these Kings, Queens, Emperors and Tsars had eyes for the young prince's land, vast and plentiful as it was. And though their armies were great and their armadas glorious, they stood no chance of successfully bagging their bounty with Mycroft the Magnificent, a mere child, as its champion.

So they hatched a plan.

Three of these kingdoms directly surrounded Prince Mycroft's. Alone they stood not a chance, each of them knew this. Together however, they might just succeed.

But they'd have to get rid of young Mycroft first. Without him, his people would be lost.

The greatest soldiers from all of their kingdoms were called forth and put through trial after trial until only six of the bravest, strongest, most dangerous warriors were left.

Together, this team set off and in the dead of night, crept into the Prince's kingdom, slithering their way through the streets and over the palace walls as easily and silently as a lethal band of shadows.

All that was left of the people's beloved prince was a set of rumpled sheets, a scratched bed post and a lone slipper.

"Mycroft don't sulk," Mummy scolded as the driver turned the car down the street running along the back gates of his school. "You know how I hate it when you sulk."

"I'm sorry Mummy," Mycroft murmured, knowing that it would make little difference explaining that his silence was more a by-product of his stomach's partiality of tying itself into knots throughout the trip to school rather anything else as petty as a mere sulk.

"I don't know what's gotten into you today," she sighed as the car pulled to a stop.

"Nothing Mummy I just-" he glanced out the window and saw them waiting there, right at the gates. "I- I-"

"Yes?"

"I just… should have gone to bed earlier. You were right. I'm sorry for being grumpy."

"It's alright Muffin," she replied, pecking his cheek. "But you are going to sleep early tonight. Understand?"

"Yes," Mycroft murmured, only half listening. They'd spotted the car now. They were pointing at it. They were waiting for him to get out. "I understand."

"Good boy," Mummy replied, a fond smile stretching across her pretty face. "Now you best be off now. We wouldn't want you to be late."

Shaking his head, Mycroft picked up his rucksack and slid across the backseat, swallowed thickly in an attempted to keep the ever-increasing nausea at bay, and pulled the door open.

The Prince, who'd fought a furious but regrettably fruitless battle against his captors, was taken back to where his unified enemies had gathered at the gates of their shared holy land, to have his fate decided for him.

"Chop off the brat's head," Lord Theodore cried. "And send it back the snivelling babes he calls his subjects."

"Nay! We should flog him to ribbons!" Tsar Sacha bellowed. "Teach him a lesson!"

Wouldn't it be a better punishment to keep him alive and imprisoned," reasoned King Samuel, by far the most cunning of the group. "Our people will lavish no love upon him like his own pathetic serf s do. He'll learn his place before long."

The young Prince tilted his chin defiantly upwards.

"I know my place," he announced, voice hard and strong. "And it's so far beyond anything scum like you could even imagine that I pity you."

King Samuel chuckled.

"Such a proud creature," he murmured, patting the Prince's cheek. "Such pride indeed. But so misplaced. I've broken far greater men than you boy and shall break a great deal more. You are no challenge for me."

"Kept as a mere slave," Lord Theodore mused, stroking his round chin. "Property to be used and discarded at will. Lower than the dirt of which we walk and spit. For a prince, surely it must be agony."

The Lord's comrades chuckled, leering down menacingly at their prisoner.

"Utter agony."

"Morning Muffin!" Teddy jeered, slinging an arm around Mycroft's hunched shoulders, basking in the snickers of all those close enough to have heard the pet-name. "What took you so long?"

"I slept in," Mycroft mumbled, allowing himself to be lead away, through the gates and over to the playground, where everything was too chaotic for the teachers to notice their little exchange.

"Well that was careless of you wasn't it Holmes?" Sam chuckled, a friendly grin Mycroft had learnt not to trust, spreading across his tanned face. "You've got our homework after all. You wouldn't want us to get in trouble would you?"

Mycroft glanced off to the side of the playground, where Ms. Rogers and Miss Stanfield were talking, about Miss Stanfield's boyfriend proposing the night before, long-time coming; he couldn't afford that sort of ring on the spur of the moment on a plumbers pay. He'd been saving u-

"Would you?"

Blinking, Mycroft focused back on the other boys, his captors.

"No," he quietly replied.

Sam's smile widened.

"No," he echoed. "Because we all know what happens when you do something to get us in trouble, don't we Muffin?"

The Sacha and Teddy laughed and began cracking their knuckles in a way that made them look incredibly stupid and intimidating at the same time.

And in spite of his determination to remain unmoved by the boys' little games, or at least, appear unmoved, he gulped.

The bullies laughed.

"Yes I know," Mycroft muttered, glancing down at the tips of his shoes, because it was better than looking up at their jeering faces.

"Good boy," Sam laughed, patting his cheek, making Mycroft wince.

"Sam, it's almost time for the bell," Sacha hissed, glancing over at the teachers, who were still conveniently distracted by a shiny rock.

"You're right," Sam replied, eyes narrowing. "Hand it over Holmes."

Biting his lip, Mycroft picked up his rucksack and reluctantly handed it over.

"Thank you," Sam laughed, handing it to Sacha and Teddy, who proceeded to rip it open and dig through it in, throwing anything that didn't interest them to the dirt.

"Here we go," Sacha crowed, ripping their exercise books out. "You have better made it sound like me this time Holmes, or you'll regret it. I almost got in trouble last time."

Dropping to his knees to gather his scattered belongings, Mycroft merely nodded in reply.

"What you got for lunch Muffin?" Teddy asked, throwing the empty rucksack at its owner.

Mycroft remained silent.

"Oi! I asked you a question you fat little freak," Teddy snapped, shoving Mycroft hard so he lost balance and fell to the dirt himself.

"Teddy stop!" Sam hissed, nodding over to the teachers, who seemed to have ceased their gawping long enough to do a quick scan of the playground.

Tugging down his friends along with him, Sam sat down in front of Mycroft, who'd be this point, pushed himself back upright, so they looked like they were merely having a little chat by the swing set.

"So Holmes," Sam asked, still smiling, "What have you got for lunch?"

Biting his lip, Mycroft murmured, "I've got money for the café."

"Really?" Sam replied, sounding quite impressed. "Can we have some?"

"But- I don't have any other food."

"But we're all friends here aren't we?" Sam replied, a malicious glint shining in his beedy little eyes. "Your only friends. Isn't that right?"

Closing his eyes, Mycroft slowly nodded.

"Well, friends share things Muffin," Sam gleefully continued. "So can't we have any of it?"

Sighing Mycroft took out the crumbled ten pound note Mummy had given him for food and handed it over to a grinning Sam.

"Cheers Holmes," he said, standing up and dusting off his trousers as the school bell finally rang. "That's really nice of you. I don't know why you don't have more friends you know?"

"It's cos he's a freak," laughed Teddy as he and Sacha stood too. "A fat little freaky loser."

"I suppose you're right," Sam laughed, kicking Mycroft's bag so the contents flew out of it once more, trampling them into the dirt as he and the others walked away. "Who'd want to be friends with that?"

"Not me!"

Mycroft's eyes were still closed. He didn't think he'd be able to open them quite yet. He wasn't going to let them see him… he wouldn't do it!

The Prince stood strong throughout the numerous attacks the King and his fellows made upon his person. He refused to be broken, not by something as trivial as brute force alone. Not when he had a nation to keep strong for.

But his strength wasn't enough to protect them. In fact, it was the very thing that damned them.

It was agony, utter agony, watching his kingdom, his beloved subjects, friends and family both, suffer his captor's frustration on his behalf.

They'd forced him to watch as they tortured his closest Generals and King's Men, taunting the weeping widows and orphans and announced for all to hear, that this would all stop, their suffering would end, if only their Prince would save them and set his sacred pride aside.

Day by day, the people who'd once loved him began to turn. Some threw fruit, some abuse, the rest just turned their backs and shook their head.

It was this that broke the former Prince, as King Samuel had known it would.

A month was all it to turn his beloved kingdom against him. A month was all it took to bring the once proud ruler to his knees.

'He'd had friends once,' Mycroft thought as he sat on his own by the steps of the classroom doors, watching Samuel buy lunch with his money, his stomach rumbling its feelings on the matter with great gusto, having already missed breakfast too.

He'd had quite a few friends actually. They'd thought he was clever and they liked him because he helped them with their homework and thought of ways to make their games even more fun.

But they were gone now. Sam, Sacha and Teddy had made sure of that.

Mycroft wasn't clever now; he was just a freak that would get you in trouble if you hung around him too long, why that Melas kid had had to change schools.

Nobody talked to him. Nobody even looked at him. He was just there for when Sam and his friends got bored and everybody knew it. And they all preferred it that way, because when they were picking on Mycroft, they weren't picking on anyone else.

"Hey Muffin!"

Mycroft reluctantly glanced up only to have of soggy cheese and pickle sandwich slap his square in the face, having been thrown at him by Samuel as he and the others past.

"Eat up," he called over his shoulder, taking a bite out of his slice of café cake. "You look hungry."

Mycroft glanced down. One half had fallen on the ground but the other was safe and clean on his lap and… he'd not eaten breakfast and dinner was hours away.

His stomach growled again, louder than before.

Face bright red with shame he slowly picked up the good piece and took a small, damning bite from the corner of it.

Samuel, Sacha and Teddy roared with laughter, pointing and calling him a 'fat little piggy' from across the playground. They weren't the only ones laughing. Of course, there were no teachers around.

Squeezing his watering eyes tightly shut, Mycroft took another bite.

An apple smashed against the wall above his head, the bits and juice raining down all over him.

The laughing grew louder as more people joined in.

And overripe mandarin hit him in the chest, and it was followed by somebody else's bag of sultanas.

"Ha! Look at fatty run!"

"Don't eat so quickly Mycroft, you'll make yourself sick," Mummy scolded as Mycroft all but wolfed down his corned beef and mash potato. "I'm surprised you're still awake."

Well he didn't have much of a choice, he had four sets of homework to finish before bed-time and a school uniform to clean after everyone had gone to sleep.

"I'm not really all that tired actually," he insisted, smiling tightly.

"Well you're still going to bed early," Mummy sternly replied.

Mycroft just nodded.

"So how was school today son?" Father asked, slicing Sherlock's food into smaller bits for him. "Did anything interesting happen?"

"Nothing really father," he said. "Just the usual."

And the sad thing was, that that wasn't a lie.

"You're mother and I would like a word with you by the way," Father announced, glancing up from his work. "After you've finished cleaning the dishes."

"Cleaning the dishes?" Mycroft whined.

"Yes Mycroft, when we tell you to do something, we expect it to be done. Whether than be making your bed or sleeping in it. There are consequences for disobedience, it is the way of life. That's what we'll like to talk to you about."

Mycroft bowed his head and toyed with the remainder of his meal. He said no more.

It wasn't the way of life though, was it? Not for everyone. Not for Sam nor Sacha or Teddy. They broke rules, disobeyed instructions, they were bad and nothing came of it.

No it was just that way for him. As usual.

"Now don't sulk Mycroft."

Mycroft sighed.

"Sorry father."

"Mikie's in trouble!" Sherlock sang, clapping his chubby hands together gleefully.