FicWad

“It is very simple.” He spoke slowly, as though he thought the children were incapable of understanding even the most basic of sentences. “In return I shall grant you each one wish right now. I will also grant you each a further wish every year you are under contract with me, to keep the deal sweet.”
An evil grin spread across his lips. “Now then, do we have a deal?”
Sherlock lowered his head, unsure, knowing that it would be best to turn on his heels and make a mad dash for the exit. Knowing his luck, he would be more likely to trip over his gangly long legs and land flat on his face, embarrassing himself. Mycroft was possibly thinking the same thing, it was hard to tell as ever.
Moriarty`s eyes narrowed into unfriendly slits. “Listen here, boys. I`m a very busy man, I have loads of children praying for a chance like this, but out of the goodness of my heart, I have chosen you two, above all others. Do not make me regret this decision.”
The elder boy glared up at him, not at all intimidated. How Sherlock wished he could be more liked him. Mycroft wasn’t scared of anything. He was brave, and clever, always acing his spelling tests and numeracy problems, and ever since become the class representative he had become even more respected and adored by his classmates. It was taking all he had not to quiver with fear and hide behind a bookcase. There was just something about this impeccably well-dressed man that gave the eight year old the creeps.
“If you really believe that we are stupid enough to contract with you without knowing what this deal involves, then you must be the stupid one.”
The man pulled an over exaggerated face of surprise, mocking the child that had dared speak back to him.
“Very well then,” Moriarty spoke calmly, but his body stiffened ever so slightly. “I will grant you a single with this very day, then one every following year as long as you do not back out of our agreement. In return, you will become Magical Boys.” He says with a flourish of his strong, manicured hands. “It will then be your job to battle a frankly quite disgusting looking being that is born from curses known as a Witch. Simple?”
“Battle, you mean fight?!”
This really wasn’t a good idea, Sherlock knew that he shouldn’t even be considering it, but the idea of all those wishes was just so very tempting. He could wish for anything he wanted. Brains to rival his brother, to finally put him in his place. Bravery. Strength. Friends to play with even. He could make sure that his beloved Red Beard never left his side as he aged. So what if he had to fight a few monsters? Surely it couldn’t be that hard, Moriarty wouldn’t give them an impossible task now, would he? Shifty looking as he was, he couldn’t be heartless, otherwise he would force them into the contract.
“Yes, Darling,” grinned Moriarty, “I mean fight.” His leather shoes inched closer to the young boy.
“Get away from him!”
A cold, manic laugh echoed around the room which had emptied out in the last few minutes. “Am I scaring him?” he drew out the offending word, eyes bright at the mere thought, provoking the usually shy child.
“I`m not scared. I know Mycroft thinks of me as a silly little whiny baby, but I`m not. I can be brave, I am brave.” He quickly corrected. “A few wicked witches don’t scare me, I want to fight!”
A knowing smile found its way to Moriarty`s pale lips. “What is your wish, O brave one? O mighty hero? What is your hearts greatest desire? What wish will make your Soul Gem shine?”
“I wish…” to be as clever as Mycroft, to have friends, to be loved, appreciated. “I wish for-“a small hand was roughly clasped over his mouth, silencing him.
“You are not doing this, Sherlock.” Says Mycroft sternly. “What would mother and father think if you came home hurt?” He raised one thin eyebrow and slowly removed his hand after a good few minutes had passed.
“Thank you for your offer, Moriarty, but we will both decline.”
Sherlock hated it when decisions were made for him, but that was only half of the reason why he ran over to the menacing man, shoving his brother behind him and embraced one long, slender leg.
“Please grant my wish, please make me a Magical Boy!”
“And you wish is?” a smug grin was thrown in Mycroft`s direction, who seemed to stunned to even noticed.
“I want to be unimaginably smart, like my brother! Please!”
“No!” it was a long drawn out scream, haunting in its tone, but it was already too late, like the ending of some horrible cliché movie.
Young Sherlock Holmes fell to the ground in agony, tiny body hunched over in pain, a truly terrifying shriek escaping form behind clenched teeth. His small frame was encased in bright light, that appeared to light him up from the inside, a small object floating from it, gleaming like a precious gem.
Then it was over.
His agony, as quickly as it begun, was over.
Trembling he got to his feet, aided by Mycroft, red in the face, tears streaming from his eyes, down his paler than white cheeks.
“What have you done to him, you monster!?”
“I created his Soul Gem, an object from which your powers are stored.”
Sherlock leaned against his brother, trembling in the aftershock, cradling the small, glittering object in the palm of his hand to his chest. It was green in colour, the most beautiful shade the young boy had ever seen, as vivid as the trees in a lush forest, and as dark as a stormy sea. Soon after his eyes closed.
“What exactly is that thing?” he pointed to the Soul Gem curiously, worry colouring his face.
Moriarty sighed. “His Soul Gem is the home to his new power, created just moment before. A very beautiful and powerful object, it must be kept on his person at all times.
“But why?” now that Sherlock was no longer screaming in pain, he had calmed down a lot, but something about this still bothered him. Let’s say for one second that he did believe in magic, at that the egg sized object in his brother`s hand was indeed magic, where did that leave Sherlock and him? He couldn’t possibly let his brother battle witches on his own.
Moriarty grinned. It was wolf like, all sharp fangs and lips skimmed back. The other Holmes boy would soon be his. “He made that wish because of you, he hates you, felt inferior to you.”
Mycroft`s eyes widened horridly, his greatest fears realised. He had always known Sherlock resented him a little because mother and father paid him more attention, but he would have never thought he truly hated him.
“And now, if he gets hurt, or worse, it will be all your fault.”
Mycroft gasped, hands clutched to his face. He felt sick. Looking over at his sleeping younger brother he knew he had no other choice. He felt awful knowing that he made the awful wish because of him, but if he actually got hurt…it wasn’t worth thinking about that he told himself. Sherlock would be fine, he was determined to keep him safe.
“What is your wish, Mycroft? What is the wish that will enable you to ease your guilt, you wicked child?”
Later, when recalling this day, the usually emotionless Mycroft would sob, but not today. “I wish to be able to protect my brother from anything that may try to hurt him.”
The same light that had enveloped the younger Holmes boy trapped him, this time glowing a brilliant white, before dimming, sealing his own fate.