Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock.

Brother

When the small, attention-seeking bundle of blankets and drool had first entered his life, a very young Mycroft Holmes had requested that it be sent back. His request was laughingly denied, and the little problem was admitted into his family.

As the years passed and the little problem grew bigger, Mycroft resubmitted his request many times—when grubby fingers pilfered his pristine books; when experiments were conducted in his room, with his belongings, and on his person; when the frosting disappeared from atop his piece of cake while his back was turned.

He eventually realized that his parents would never fulfill his request.

When he was older still, he was sorely tempted to fulfill the request himself—when great powers of deduction were flaunted for ordinary policemen; when undignified laughter broke out as he entered a room; when his diet was repeatedly brought up.

Instead, he learned to use his lifelong problem to solve problems. The problem became generally more of a help than a nuisance as time went on, and Mycroft accepted his role as the keeper of one of the most brilliant annoyances in modern history.

Now, staring numbly at the text in his hand, he realized that his original request had at last been approved.

He sent up an urgent request to the highest authority to revoke it.