The child ran from his older brother, full of smiles and laughter as he was chased around the library. He had one arm outstretched and in contact with the bookshelves, letting his fingers run along the spines of the books as he dashed away. His older brother had been blindfolded in an attempt to make it easier for the smaller child to win this game, although that just made it grossly unfair. Without his sight Sherlock could function like any other child would of his age, although the fact that he hadn't known any different probably helped and as for Mycroft, well, once you put the blindfold on there really was no chance he would win without some sort of divine intervention.

"Mycroft, you're rubbish at this!" The small child laughed and span around in a circle to wait for his brother who he could hear blundering around behind him like some great clumsy elephant. Unfortunately this is exactly what Mycroft needed to catch his little brother and he leapt towards the sound with a wolfish grin across his lips as he tasted triumph in the air. He caught Sherlock as he tried to wriggle away. He scooped him up in his arms and took his blindfold off, looking at the giggling person in his arms with no less than adoration in his eyes.

Sherlock couldn't help but let out silvery peals of laughter that warmed the very air of the library as he grabbed onto Mycroft's suit. He snuggled up against him and giggled softly as his brother wrapped his arms around him; trapping him there. "A-alright, you win!" This made his brother grin with a certain air of smugness that was the product of winning a rare acknowledgement from the child. Sherlock had won the game though, and they both knew it, he was now exactly where he wanted to be; in his brother's arms and curling up against the expensive suits he'd come to associate with Safety and Warmth and Mycroft.

"I did indeed, little one, although I hit a lot of bookcases on the way round." He leant down and kissed over Sherlock's milk blind eyes. "One day, I'll catch you quicker but for now, I believe we've earned a chance to get milk and biscuits, do you not agree?" Sherlock mumbled his approval of this plan and Mycroft hoisted the smiling child onto his hip, carrying him from the warmth of the library and out onto the first floor corridor that ran a little way along the house.

Sherlock had laid his head carefully against the crook of Mycroft's neck and the smile hadn't had a chance to fade from his lips before he was grinning again. "Only if we can have chocolate ones and listen to the radio... Besides, you still owe me an extra biscuit from when I won hide and seek yesterday." Sherlock never, never, forgot when he was owed his winnings. His brother couldn't help but laugh at this and he tapped his fingers against the child's back as he carried him down the grand staircase and headed towards the drawing room.

It was getting later now and wouldn't be long until it was time for Mycroft to take his brother to bed. His mother was always away at a meeting or a party or some other event that absolutely couldn't be missed and so Mycroft looked after Sherlock where she wouldn't. It had been like a mantra that he'd heard over and over since Sherlock's birth; 'That boy will amount to nothing, not without his eyes!' It was as if Sherlock were to be blamed for his blindness, of course mother's lack of faith never seemed to affect him but that didn't mean Mycroft would abandon him to his fate. He'd spent years teaching Sherlock how to be as good as sighted people and had become almost his sole carer, Sherlock loved it. He couldn't help but love his older brother as they adventured in the orchards or spent evenings curled up on the sofa listening to whatever radio production caught Sherlock's attentions.

"Of course you can, you can listen to your radio show and then you really must go to bed. Mother wouldn't be pleased if she found you'd been up all night reading." He smiled as he thought about that, he'd spent long hours sourcing books that would interest the child that could still be bought in Braille. That in itself had been a feat considering Sherlock's taste in reading matter. There had been the night when he had gotten up to check on his brother at some small hour of the morning to find him pouring over a book about bees. Obviously, Then had come the following conversation on whether or not Mycroft would build him an apiary in the garden by the orchard.

The answer had been 'no, definitely not' and suffice to say Sherlock wasn't happy about that at all.

"I won't, 'Croft" Sherlock protested with the ease of a young child who knew he had no plan on following the rules, successfully waking Mycroft up from his reminiscing. He looked down at Sherlock and shifted his weight on his hip. "Oh all right, Sherlock, I believe you" He carried the child into the drawing room and amused himself by throwing him onto the leather sofa.

Sherlock flailed as he flew through the air and let out a squeal as he hit the cushions of the sofa. "Mycroft! You idiot, I could of died!" He sat up and scowled, the eight year old's features screwed up in a frown as directed his annoyance furiously in the direction he'd last heard Mycroft move. "Mother would have been so cross!" It was Mycroft's turn to laugh then as he took his place beside Sherlock on the sofa and ruffled his soft curls in affection. "She might of been, but fortunately for you the sofa was a only couple of feet away and incredibly soft." To this Sherlock prodded his brother's arm in annoyance, it were obvious to him that he definitely could have died or worse; hit his head and become an idiot.

"You'll have to get the milk and biscuits, Mycroft, you need the exercise." He was still grumpy about being thrown. No one could sulk like Sherlock could and he was displaying his finesse in the skill as he sat with his arms crossed and kicked his legs. Mycroft just sighed and placed a hand upon Sherlock's shoulder, "Of course, Brother mine. Just cheer up by the time I get back, we can't have you sulking all evening."

He stood and smiled, knowing his sulking wouldn't last upon his return with biscuits.

Only a short while later, Mycroft returned to find a sleeping Sherlock curled up on a sofa with the radio playing softly in the background, he smiled at his brother and placed the tray upon the drinks cabinet. Apparently the day's games had tired him out completely to the point of exhaustion. His older brother was smiling as he turned the radio dial around to 'off' before picking Sherlock up in his arms and carrying him upstairs to his bedroom.

Sherlock mumbled as he was tucked up in bed, his hand catching hold of Mycroft's sleeve. "M'croft?"

"Yes, brother dear?"

Sherlock wriggled himself into a sitting position and frowns, his hands now balled up in the counterpane as he spoke again. "I'm sort of nervous about tomorrow"

Tomorrow being Sherlock's first day of 'proper' school after mother had refused to have him home schooled for any longer. Her reasoning being it wasn't worth throwing away the money on a child who would just end up distracted by whatever was happening else where in the house.

"..." This surprised Mycroft a little, considering Sherlock had seemed rather excited before this point. "Why are you nervous, Sherlock?"

"Well, because there are going to be a lot of people, right? And... Well, I don't mind if they don't like me but what if they think my eyes are like monsters eyes?" He'd recently read a book in which a hideous monster had been described as having 'Monstrous, white blind eyes'

"Of course they won't! If they do, just tell your teacher or tell me and we'll sort it out. Remember, if you don't like the school we'll find somewhere else." He hugged his brother quickly, lacing his fingers into the child's hair and pulling him close. He doubted Sherlock's ability to make friends, not in a way that was designed to offend him but more in a concern for his younger brother. He hated the idea of him being alone in school.

"O-okay, Mycroft." He yawned sleepily before untangling himself from his brother and burying himself beneath the duvet. He mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like he had a plan to find people who liked bees.

Mycroft laughed and stood up, making his way to the door. "Goodnight, Sherlock. Sleep well and relax. You'll enjoy tomorrow more if you get a good night's rest." He said this with the wisdom of an older brother before leaving Sherlock's room and closing the door behind him.

Notes:

- Sherlock has Retinopahy of Prematurity: Stage Five. This involves premature babies being born with semi/fully detached retinas. Stage five causes full blindness and is never [normally] operable.

-The radio show he listens to is called Dick Barton's Special Agents. A radio production for the BBC that involved Captain Richard Barton and his two associates Jock and Snowy, as they solved crimes and mysteries.

-Although Sherlock's blind he has learnt to walk without a cane due to the tutelage of his brother, this is possible but takes a lot of experience, dedication and observation. That and confidence, due to Sherlock's nature I thought this relevant.

-Any mistakes are my own and I apologise for any medical facts I may have butchered.

-Only the first couple of chapters will be set in Sherlock's childhood, more as a scene setting to give balance to the story.

-Story is available on AO3 under the same name.