Brother Dearest: A Sherlock fanfic part one and two

Brother dearest

'When the going gets tough the tough gets going’ (Billy Ocean)

‘Sherlock?’ John Watson called his friend’s name when he opened the door to their home in 221B Baker Street. ‘Sherlock? Are you here?’
John walked straight through to the kitchen but all he saw was quite a messy table with knick knacks and half empty tea cups. He walked backwards out of the kitchen, turned round to see Sherlock’s coat and scarf lying on his empty chair.
‘So he must be in’ John mumbled to himself.
‘Sherlock? Answer me please’
John called out ones again. Downstairs he heard Mrs. Hudson, the landlady, stumbling round so he shut the door behind him. He took of his own coat and scarf and hung them on the coat rack. Why didn’t he answer? John noticed Sherlock’s bedroom door was closed. It was never closed. John felt a sudden jolt of nervous panic in his stomach. This was odd even for Sherlock. With butterflies of anxiety fluttering around in his stomach, John walked to Sherlock’s bedroom door. He stood there silently for one moment and listened at his door. There was not a sound to be heard. Nervously John knocked at the bedroom door and waited. When there was no answer he knocked again and opened the door: ‘Sherlock?’
Although the curtains where drawn, the bed was neatly made and no one was inside. John sighed. Where could he be? He turned round and stared at the bathroom door, which was also closed. Maybe he was having a bath? He listened but couldn’t hear a damn thing. He coughed and then knocked and opened the door at the same time. ‘Sherlock?’ At first he stood there as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. Cold shivers went up and down his spine. Then he cried out: ‘Bloody hell!’
Sherlock was lying in the bathtub only in his boxers with his head under water. He was white as a sheet. John being a doctor, knew immediately this was wrong. There were no bubbles coming out of his mouth! He leaped forward and dragged Sherlock out of the bath. Just as he wanted to begin mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, Sherlock started to cough and opened his eyes.

‘Hello there’ he said with a hoarse voice from coughing looking at John. ‘It was about time you got here, I was lying there for ages. I was starting to feel like a dried up plum.’

‘Jesus fucking Christ, Sherlock’ John cried out, jumping up angrily.

‘There’s really no need to bring religion into the conversation’ Sherlock said sitting up. ‘Hand me a towel, will you?’

John stared at him, took a towel that hang next to the bathroom sink and threw it at Sherlock. Sherlock got up and wrapped the towel around his waist. John turned round and stampeded out of the bathroom, leaving Sherlock to get himself dried of. He just had about enough of his experiments.

He went to the living room and sat himself down in his chair. He was angry at Sherlock for being so thoughtless. Not only that, he seemed to be angry all the time lately. Ever since; Ever since Mary had betrayed him. He didn’t want to think about that anymore. He knew he had trouble letting people into his life. Sherlock was the first after a very long time who succeeded in befriending him. Strange really, he seemed to put everyone else off. Not John. They were friends from the start and although Sherlock had put him through hell he always seemed to forgive him, always. He didn’t know why, he just did. It was a long time ago that Sherlock had to fake his own death and jump of a building. He had forgiven him for that too. And then there was Mary. She just walked into his life, just as he needed someone to console him. He had trust issues his therapist said. It took a while before Mary could break down that wall he had so carefully build around him. But when she did, there was no stopping him, or his feelings, or so he thought. He missed Sherlock so damn much at the time, Mary understood that. She helped him through all that. He almost had come to terms with Sherlock’s death, almost, or at least that was what he was telling everyone, especially himself. He was ready to move on with his life. That is until Sherlock returned from being dead, or rather not being dead. Then all those trust issues came racing back like crazy. And of course Mary of all people convinced him to forgive Sherlock. Forgive him again, and again, and again. And then…

‘You’re mad’ Sherlock concluded.

‘Hell yes I’m mad’ John turned round to face Sherlock who was now on one foot to try and put some trousers on. ‘What if I hadn’t come in time to yank you out of the tub, hum?  What then? You could have drowned you daft fool!’

‘Surely you’d know I would not have let it come that far’ Sherlock arched his eyebrow and after drying of his back put on his dark red shirt.

‘Christ Sherlock, I don’t even want to know why! You scared the shit out of me, again I might add’.

‘Christ has nothing to do with it what so ever, he could walk on water, not lie under it for a long period of time as far as I know.’ Sherlock turned round to face his angry friend. John’s mouth opened and shut again and then opened again. ‘Your mouth John’ Sherlock pointed out as he slipped into his shoes and tied the laces.

‘Damn you Sherlock Holmes’ John whispered as he sank down in his chair. ‘You think you can get away with everything but one of these days… One of these days it will all catch up with you. And you’ll have to wait and see if I will be still around to be there for you then.’

Sherlock stopped in the middle of putting on his jacket, one arm in one out and stared at John. ‘I’m sorry John’ he then softly said in his low baritone voice. ‘I didn’t know it would upset you this much’.

‘That’s just it’ John said ‘You don’t think, you just do, but alright I’ll take the bait this time, what was the experiment about?’

‘No, it’s alright John’ Sherlock put his jacket on and sat himself down in the chair opposite of John. ‘You don’t have to ask’.

‘I do actually, or you’ll sulk all evening long’

‘I don’t sulk, John, I resent that’ Sherlock raised his eyebrow again.

‘Yes you do, but fine, let’s give it a rest, eh? Tell me about the experiment and for God’s sake don’t ever do that again. Texting me to come home immediately because of an emergency while I’m in the middle of a colonoscopy is one thing, but to find you in a bath looking like a dead man is quite another.’

Sherlock looked at his friend, his only friend he might add, and felt more sorry then he could say. He thought it was funny at the time, and yes an experiment, he thought John would laugh with him and they could plunge into this next case he was working on, but he couldn’t have been more mistaken. He saw how his friend looked at him, his face still in shock. He stood up and walked to the small kitchen. ‘Tea?’ he asked. He heard a sigh coming from the other room. Then a ‘Yes please’. And he put the kettle on.

When he had given John his cup of tea and sat down with the other cup he was anxious to talk to John about this case, but he waited till John drank his tea and calmed down a bit. He watched John with his tea, eyes closed, taking small sips at a time. He could see the anxiety fall of him with every sip. Finally John opened his eyes, sat upright and looked at Sherlock. ‘Okay, let’s hear it.’

‘Are you sure?’ Sherlock looked him in the eyes, John looked tired. He had bags under his eyes from not sleeping enough or working long hours, probably both. He needed a good proper shave. His shirt was messy, all wrinkled and a bit smudgy too which was not something John would normally wear like this. His hand was shaking a bit, Sherlock noticed. It never did anymore, only when… only when he was under a lot of stress.
Oh damn, Sherlock thought. I am so sorry John. I did it to you again.

Sherlock took a sip of his own tea and thought back at the past couple of months. It had been very hard on John. He was quite smitten or so he thought by Mary, even to the point he was thinking it would take him a step further into the relationship. But then ‘the incident’ happened. Or so John called it now. If he named it anything. He rather not talked about it at all. As it turned out Mary was conspiring with his arch enemy Jim Moriarty. John met Mary Morstan when she started working for him as his nurse in his practice. She helped him through some rough patches coping with Sherlock’s death, or fake death as it later turned out to be anyway. Slowly he started to have feelings for her. She was the one to tell him to forgive Sherlock when he returned. And help him through all that again. She was nice enough, but Sherlock also thought there was something about her. He couldn’t put a finger on it. This obviously irritated the hell out of him. Of course he did his research and eventually found that she had worked for the CIA, did some undercover work for them. In short, she was quite a killer, our Mary. In retrospect Sherlock should have known there was more. Much more. He blamed himself for not having protected John enough. Moriarty was always searching for ways to hurt him; he now just had found a way to hurt him through John by using Mary. Why Mary let him use her, he still had no clue. The fact of the matter is she did, willingly. She even did so with a big smile on her face afterwards. At least she did to Sherlock’s face, not to John’s. She looked relatively sad when John found out, the final moment there on that rooftop at St. Bart’s of all places Moriarty could pick, he choose that one, the one he forced Sherlock to jump off on a few years ago while John was watching, thinking Sherlock was going to die.

Then John burst through the door and saw Mary holding Sherlock at gunpoint. While Moriarty was having a field day. He danced around Sherlock, around Mary and as soon as John showed up, he laughed and pulled Mary close and kissed her passionately. Oh the look on his friend’s face. He would never forget that look. The disappointment, the betrayal. His gun pointing then at Moriarty then at Mary, not knowing what to do. Mary tried to lie her way out of it, but of course she couldn’t. It was quite obvious she and Moriarty where in it together from the start. And when the police helicopter appeared and she got arrested she had no choice but to confess. It nearly broke John.

All of this was going through Sherlock’s mind while he was watching his friend opposite him. It worried him how John looked. It was strange to feel that way. He never felt anything for anyone before. He learnt that early on in life, not to feel, or simply not to care. It could only hurt him. Caring was not an advantage or so his brother Mycroft always said. But this was different. John was different. Ever since he met him, it was different. Even when John was with Mary, although it was just for a few months since he had been back anyway, he felt as if he had to share John somehow. Share his friendship with someone else. Competing even. He just felt an uneasiness sometimes inside his stomach; he didn’t know how to describe it. Maybe it was some sort of jealous feeling? He didn’t know another word for it. He dismissed it as soon as it entered his head. It was ridiculous. Absurd. Jealous, why on earth would he be? Nothing of the sort, he wouldn’t have it. But at night as he lay in bed, and couldn’t sleep, his mind overactive, he couldn’t help thinking the same things over and over again. John, John, John.

‘Sherlock? The case Lestrade told you about? Why you were head under water in the tub? Are you going to tell me or am I supposed to guess?’

Sherlock didn’t hear a word John had said. He was still thinking and staring.

‘Sherlock? What’s wrong? Are you alright? See, that’s what happens if you keep your head under water to long! No oxygen to your brain. Sherlock!’ John shouted almost and touched Sherlock’s arm.

Sherlock was startled; ‘Hum, what? Did you say something? Ah, yes, well. Sorry about that.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Well, yes, this case.’ Sherlock ruffled his hair. ‘Well, Lestrade phoned me and I’ve been to the morgue already to see the body. Lestrade thinks it may be suicide but I don’t. Why, you ask.’ As he saw John’s mouth starting to move: ‘Simple really. One: Bruises. Odd ones. Two: Way too much water in the lungs than with a normal drowning. Three: The location where the man was found. Floating under Blackfriars Bridge.’ Sherlock looked triumphant. ‘Don’t you see?’

‘No I don’t actually’ John answered. ‘Why is that important?’

‘Because he also had salt water in his lungs John!’ Sherlock jumped up and walked round enthusiastically, his arms in the air. ‘The body was drowned in the sea of course, held there reluctantly, so maybe thrown of a ship or something, holding him in place with I don’t know what yet. But the bruises, John, the bruises, are saying it all.’

‘And why were you in that tub again for so long?’ John still looking a bit irritated trying hard to put the tub incident aside, but still couldn’t.

‘Because I wanted to know how long a man can be under water without having to come up for air. Of course it entirely depends on one’s lung capacity, I realise that. Mine isn’t quite that bad, since it took you, I’d say about ten minutes to get here?’

‘Fifteen and you did breathe, didn’t you?’ John got really upset again seeing Sherlock’s face as he nodded. ‘Damn you, Sherlock, really, damn you!’ John walked away, putting on his coat and scarf, opened the door and walked out.

Sherlock stood there baffled for a moment and then grabbed his own coat and scarf and rushed down the stairs. He ran after him putting on his coat at the same time trying to catch up. ‘John, John wait up. John I’m sorry, John stop!’ He grabbed him by the arm, trying to stop him. John turned around with a face like thunder.

‘You’d best leave me alone now Sherlock’ he said with a clenched jaw. ‘I’m not in the mood for your sick mind games.’

‘John, I am sorry, I really am. I thought it amusing at the time; I wanted to make you laugh.’

‘Oh, right. Ha ha see, I’m laughing. Very funny indeed Sherlock.’ John brought his face very close to Sherlock’s. ‘You might not have noticed Sherlock, but in the past six months I’ve been betrayed by the woman I thought I was falling for and whom I just starting to trust which is a lot for me, since I have trust issues as my psychiatrist says. That same woman turned out to be an ex- CIA agent working for and with your arch enemy James Moriarty. To get back at you, they decided together to come after me! Now isn’t that a laugh! And now you, whom I thought was the one friend left in the world, is trying to make me laugh by letting me think he has drowned in the bath tub. So excuse me if I’m not amused. Excuse me if I’m not laughing because THIS IS NOT FUNNY!’ John started shouting in Sherlock’s face. He wanted to turn around and walk off again but 

Sherlock stopped him by taking his arm. ‘Let me go’ growled John.

‘No’ Sherlock took his arm and put his other arm around John’s waist. ‘No I’m not letting go. I will never let go. You are my best friend, John. You are my only friend and I can’t stand to see you like this. I am entirely to blame. Because of me you are hurt and I can’t stand it. I lay awake at night thinking about it, I see you suffering, in pain. It’s all over your face. You try to burry yourself in your work and it’s not helping, now is it? Please, John, let me help you. I should have protected you better, I should have found out more about Mary, warned you earlier. I know I did but I only knew of her CIA background not the rest of it, I should have. Now you are so depressed all the time, I tried to help with involving you in this case, I’m sorry, I have no sense of what you need apparently.’ Sherlock looked down, feelings of guilt swooped over him and he couldn’t stop it. He looked at John again; his hurt and angry face and the tears welled up in his eyes. ‘I’m sorry’ he whispered.

Sherlock let go of John, turned around and started to walk back to their home. He felt like he let John down in every possible way. Tears were filling up his eyes as he entered the hallway of 221B Baker Street. He closed the door and leaned against the wall with his eyes shut. Before long the door opened again and John entered. Sherlock was still leaning against the wall and opened his eyes. John walked up to him.

John looked up at Sherlock and saw his guilt stricken face. His eyes filling with tears. Sherlock and tears. He has changed since we first met, he thought. The anger melted away when he saw his friend like that.
 

‘It’s alright’ he softly said. ‘I’m not angry anymore. But please don’t do that to me again, okay?’
Sherlock looked hesitant and that scared John even more. That was nothing like the pompous, self-confident Sherlock he normally saw. He took his hand and led him upstairs. ‘Come we’ll have another cup of tea and talk some more’ he said. He guided Sherlock to the stairs and walked behind him. ‘Yeah, go on, I’m right behind you.’

‘Everything alright dear?’ Mrs. Hudson’s voice came from her kitchen downstairs.

‘Yes mrs. Hudson everything is fine thanks. Have a good night.’

John shut the door behind them with a bang. Damn. Mrs. Hudson was a nice enough woman but nosy to a fault. He turned around to face Sherlock who still wasn’t himself. ‘Sherlock? What’s wrong? Why are you taking this so much at heart? It’s not like you.’ 

Sherlock stood in the middle of the room fiddling with his scarf.

‘I let you down John not only just now, but ever since we first met I’m doing things that hurt you, that cause you harm. And I’m so sorry.’ His voice broke and again John saw tears well up in Sherlock’s eyes. With one step he was next to Sherlock and took his arm.
 

Sherlock held John’s arm and his other arm was around John’s waist. ‘I lay awake at night John. Contemplating cause as you know my mind doesn’t stop thinking, not for one bloody second. And all those things go around in my mind what I’ve done to you, all damn night long. And still I thought it funny to step into that bloody bath tub to have a laugh or to make you laugh. I see the way you look, your appearance. You haven’t slept for days yourself, you look terrible, no offence, and you have bags under your eyes, you’re clothes are a mess, you neglect your duties and above all, you tolerate me. Not much but you do. And I do this to you? What kind of friend am I John? What kind I ask you?’ Sherlock started sobbing softly.

John looked up at him and was quite shocked at what he saw. He never would have believed it. Sherlock Holmes sobbing because of him. He grabbed hold of him and hugged him tight. ‘It’s going to be alright Sherlock, don’t you worry. I’m going to be alright too. You didn’t let me down. Other people did, you were always there for me, always.’ He felt Sherlock’s hands grabbing his coat. John looked at Sherlock’s shaking body, his head bent on John’s shoulder and hesitated for a brief moment but then put his hand on Sherlock’s curls.

He whispered: ‘It will be alright Sherlock, I promise it will. Please stop it, you’re scaring me.’

Sherlock’s hands were still clinging on to John’s coat for dear life. He tilted his head and faced John. His face wet, eyes a bit puffed and red and John thought, his eyes looked scared. John had never seen Sherlock looking scared of anything. ‘Sherlock? Please tell me what’s the matter? I’ve never seen you like this before, you’re frightening me.’

Sherlock shook his head. ‘I can’t’ he whispered. ‘I just can’t. Forgive me John, please.’ He took of his coat and scarf and walked away to the bathroom to clean up his face. Leaving John baffled.

------------------------------------------------------

‘When you try your best but you don't succeed

When you get what you want but not what you need

When you feel so tired but you can't sleep

Stuck in reverse’ (Coldplay-Fix you)

Sherlock moved quietly to his bedroom while John was making another cup of tea. He was feeling embarrassed about his outburst which was nothing like him.  A good night’s rest would do the trick, he thought, getting into bed. He heard John doing dishes and with a deep sigh he covered himself with his blankets and closed his eyes, knowing very well he wouldn’t sleep until his mind would settle a bit. Which it hardly ever did anyway. At least he would try to get some rest, God knows he needed it.

John finished doing the dishes and walked over to Sherlock’s bedroom door. Again, this was new for Sherlock, going to bed early. John was a bit nervous about the whole situation. He didn’t know what to do about it. Mycroft one’s asked him to report anything unusual. He never did, of course he didn’t. He was no spy! But now Sherlock was like this, he couldn’t help himself but thinking of giving Mycroft a call. 
John walked into the bathroom and looked at his reflection in the mirror. Sherlock was right of course. He looked tired and there were bags under his eyes. No wonder, now was it? The way things were going for him lately. He opened the bathroom cupboard and got some toothpaste and his brush. Suddenly his eyes got a glimpse of a small container which he hadn’t seen before. While brushing his teeth he took the container in his hand and turned it around and around. After brushing his teeth he tried to open the small container. The lid was screwed on very tight and when John finally got it open it almost flew out of his hands. Inside where dozens of small white pills. 
‘O Christ Sherlock’ John muttered. ‘Not again.’ With a sigh John screw the lid back on and with the container in hand he walked straight to Sherlock’s bedroom. He knocked first but when there was no answer he opened the door without knocking again. A large pile of sheets and blankets lay on the bed. John thought Sherlock must be somewhere inside there but when he came nearer he saw the bed was empty.

‘Sherlock?’ John knew he must have disappeared while he was in the bathroom. He turned to walk out of the bedroom and in the darkness of the room he saw Sherlock sitting on a chair in the far corner wearing his pyjamas and his robe. He was barefoot. 

‘Sherlock, are you alright? Why aren’t you in bed sleeping? You must be tired from not sleeping for days!’

Slowly Sherlock turned his head to look at John. His eyes red en swollen. His pupils where dilated.

‘My God Sherlock what have you done!’ John cried out.

Sherlock couldn’t answer him anymore, he just stared at him.

‘I’m so sorry Sherlock, but I’m calling Mycroft’ John said. ‘You’ve taken pills haven’t you?’

Again, Sherlock didn’t respond, he just looked at John standing there being all frantic. John took his phone and dialled the number. As he walked away to make the call, Sherlock followed him with just his eyes, as if his body could not respond anymore. 

‘Why didn’t you call me right away then dr Watson?’ Mycroft Holmes stood in Sherlock’s bedroom staring down at his brother shaking his head.

‘Well never mind that now, we’ll take care of it straight away, little brother; it’s going to be alright’.
Mycroft shook his head a bit and leaned on his umbrella.  ‘Right, well, we’ll have to get him dressed now don’t we, come on Sherlock, up on your feet.’

It took quite some time to dress Sherlock but when they were done Mycroft and John took him down to Mycroft’s car.

‘Where are you taking him?’ John asked.

‘He won’t be gone long, don’t you worry, he’ll be back on his feet before you know it. He is needed you know, but I probably shouldn’t mention that right about now. Maybe later. I’ll call on you tomorrow, and we’ll talk.’ Mycroft put Sherlock in his car and went in himself, nodded at John and then they drove off, leaving John alone at the curve.

The next day Mycroft arrived early at 221B Baker Street. John was just making breakfast and tea when he heard the knock at his door and Mycroft entered.

‘I just thought I let myself in’ Mycroft said.

‘Good morning to you too’ John replied. ‘How is Sherlock?’

‘Ah well, our boy is in rehab as one so calls it. Mind if I sit down?’ Mycroft sat himself down on Sherlock’s chair before John could answer. ‘He got himself in a little pickle I’m afraid. Couldn’t sleep for ages, so he thought it a good idea to take some pills, and you know my brother, when he takes a few it usually doesn’t stop there, with a few I mean.’

John sighed. He went to the kitchen to fetch the tea and handed a cup over to Mycroft and sat himself down in his chair.

‘Ah tea, thank you’ Mycroft said. ‘Well, I thought I’d come and explain some things to you. It has been quite the eventful months now haven’t they? To top it all off there is something I haven’t mentioned that I might have had to mention earlier. It’s quite nasty actually. If you’ll indulge me then I will start at the beginning.’

John nodded and sipped his tea waiting impatiently.

‘Our parents had once three sons’ Mycroft started. ‘Me being the oldest, Sherlock the youngest brother, but there has been another brother between me and Sherlock. The boy was about 3 years old when he was abducted from the playground and never found again. My parents of course where devastated and mother cried every day and night. I can remember that much, I was about six years old. Sherlock wasn’t even born then. A few years after Sherlock was born, they found the man who had taken our brother. His name was …‘  Mycroft took a pause.
‘Gilbert Moriarty’

John who was just taking a sip of his tea, choked. He coughed and said; ‘You said what?’

‘You heard me the first time, John’ Mycroft said softly.
Our brother James was abducted by a cruel man, who had made our brother even crueller then himself. Although we knew he had our brother, he was nowhere to be found. We all grew up, without ever hearing or seeing our brother ever again. Until..’

‘Until he became Sherlock’s arch enemy’ John squealed.

‘Indeed’ Mycroft shook his head. ‘I let him get away. The first time, he and Sherlock where on that rooftop, he made Sherlock fake his own death. And faked his own too. He had help with that you know. As did Sherlock with his of course but that’s all water under the bridge. We never thought of keeping an eye on the rooftop, we were just concentrating on Sherlock just as we should be. We didn’t know he had help faking his own death on the rooftop whilst we were busy with Sherlock.’

Mycroft was talking like John wasn’t even there. But John knew of whom Mycroft was talking. ‘You mean Mary. He had help, even then, of Mary.’

Mycroft nodded. ‘I’m afraid so, dr Watson. I’m very sorry about that. We didn’t know.’

‘So you and Sherlock keep telling me’ John said with an angry tone in his voice.

‘And if we say that, we mean that’ Mycroft looked at John. ‘You seem angry, dr Watson. I can assure you we didn’t know.’

‘You’re practically the bloody government, you should know everything that goes on’ John uttered.  

‘John, when I helped Sherlock fake his death, I did so to protect you meanly, his friend, and some other acquaintances

of his. I didn’t know there was someone like Mary that helped him, Moriarty, fake his death. I didn’t know until after sometime after your marriage to her. I got an anonymous tip and that’s why I could be there in time with the police helicopter to save all of you from that rooftop, the second time on that same damn rooftop. I didn’t particularly like seeing Sherlock being held by gunpoint by Moriarty and Mary. Or having to watch you seeing Mary being with Moriarty, you have to believe me on that. I just was glad Lestrade and I where there on time. James is... well we tested his DNA and he is indeed our brother.

Mother and Father have mixed feelings about it all. And frankly so do I. Sherlock doesn’t know it yet. He is not in a shape to know anything at the moment. He blames himself for everything you know. He blames himself for putting your life at risk, for making your life quite messy and what does my dear brother do when it all gets to him? Well, his mind goes on and on you know that. He can’t sleep, he keeps on thinking. So, he needs to escape. He seems to think he can escape with drugs, or pills or whatever will ‘fix him’.’ Mycroft sighed. ‘Poor little brother’.

John looked white as a sheet by the time Mycroft was finished speaking.
‘You knew Moriarty was your long lost kidnapped brother who was after revenge on his younger brother? And you did nothing about it? You knew my wife had ‘something’ to do about it? And you did nothing? You didn’t even warn me? ‘O John, by the way, your wife? She is a criminal, shagging with Jim Moriarty who is my brother by the way’ Damn you Mycroft!’

Mycroft looked shocked at John’s outburst.

‘O yes and did I mention the fact that you let him escape again too?’ John screamed at Mycroft. ‘Or was that all on purpose?’

‘What on earth do you mean?’ Mycroft tried to remain calm and dignified as always but he felt a little uneasy at the accusations. 

‘THIS!’ John shouted holding up today’s paper which said;

Moriarty out on bail.

James Moriarty, the man who was imprisoned not long ago was released today on bail. Moriarty, the man of whom is said he is not on good terms with consulting detective Sherlock Holmes, was in prison because of threats against Sherlock Holmes. His accomplice Mary Morstan is still in prison for a life sentence for murder charges. She shot and killed a police officer last spring.

Mycroft’s face went a whiter shade of pale when he read the article in the newspaper. ‘Excuse me’ he said after reading it. ‘I have to make some phone calls and see on Sherlock.’

‘Tell him, Mycroft’ John growled almost. ‘You tell him or I will’.

Mycroft walked towards the door and turned around. ‘Don’t worry’ he said. ‘I will.’

Mycroft was driving through London in his car with chauffeur and had just made some phone calls. He had to talk to Sherlock before he heard this from someone. He thought back to when Sherlock had just killed Magnussen and had to go out of the country. He was talking about what to do about his brother with Lady Smallwood and some other highly influential people.
He had pleaded a case for his brother. There would always be a time when they needed Sherlock Holmes after all. Sir Edwin thought it was some expression of familial sentiment towards Sherlock. Although he was probably right, Mycroft wasn’t the man to admit such a thing. He had said: ‘Don’t be absurd. I am not given to outbursts of brotherly compassion. You know what happened to the other one.’ Sir Edwin was quieted quickly enough, but by ‘the other one’ he was referring to Moriarty of course, his long lost brother. After James Moriarty had tried to take everyone’s attention, especially Sherlock’s, by breaking into the Tower of London, he was arrested, but Mycroft had let him go. He couldn’t tell anyone now that he knew then, all those years ago, that James was his brother. Mycroft knew Moriarty knew they were family, but he didn’t know at the time, at least he didn’t think so. But Mycroft had made an enormous mistake by letting him go, almost at cost of his little brother’s life. A mistake he would never make again, as long as he lived. Sherlock may have thought in the past that Mycroft didn’t have any brotherly feelings in his bones; he himself knew better and wanted to do anything to make it up to Sherlock.

The car stopped at a clinic and Mycroft got out of the car. The doctor was waiting for him at the door.
 

‘Good afternoon’ Mycroft nodded.

‘I still feel it is way too early to take Sherlock home with you’ the doctor started immediately. ‘He has been here no longer than 12 hours for God’s sake!’

‘Well’ Mycroft said walking past the doctor. ‘It really isn’t up to you, now is it, doctor?’ The look the doctor got from Mycroft made him close his mouth as he had opened it to start protesting again.

‘Good, now show me his room please’ Mycroft started walking and the doctor was already catching up.

As they entered Sherlock’s room Mycroft turned around and softly said; ‘Please leave us.’ The doctor closed the door behind him and left.

Sherlock was lying on a bed staring at the ceiling. He didn’t seem to have heard Mycroft entering the room. Mycroft approached the bed, took a chair and sat down.  ‘Hello Sherlock’ he said.

Sherlock slowly turned his head towards his brother. His eyes weren’t so puffy anymore and he seemed a bit more relaxed then the night before.

‘How are you?’ Mycroft asked.

Sherlock smirked.
 

‘Ah’ Mycroft said. ‘You’re being yourself again. Good boy.’

Sherlock turned his head away. ‘Go away Mycroft. Go and annoy someone else will you?’

‘I wish I could brother dear, but we need you.’

‘What now? Can’t I be away for one night? Whose dog is missing this time? One of her Majesty’s corgi’s?  So sorry to disappoint her, I’m not feeling up to it.’

‘Sherlock! Behave! No I have to talk to you. I am so sorry I waited for as long as I have. But please hear me out. Then you’ll understand hopefully my reason for waiting so long. Maybe I should have brought dr Watson with me.’

Sherlock rose and sat upright. ‘What do you mean? What has it to do with John?’

‘I just left John’ Mycroft said. ‘What I’m about to tell you, I told him this morning. I wanted to tell you sooner, but there never seemed a proper time for it. You were faking your death and all, or just all the dreadful things that have happened lately. You must know I am very sorry I didn’t tell you sooner and the reason is to protect you.’

‘Mycroft, just tell me now!’ Sherlock jumped up and almost shook Mycroft by the shoulders.

Mycroft told him the whole story, he told earlier that day to John. All about that Moriarty was being their long lost brother, about their parents knowing, about since when Mycroft knew it although he left out the part about precisely how long he knew. He observed carefully Sherlock’s face as he was telling the whole truth, well almost the whole truth.
 

Sherlock was quite in shock, he could tell. He felt the urge to put his hand on his brother’s shoulder to comfort him. He didn’t. ‘I’m sorry Sherlock, I really am. I just wanted to protect you, if you didn’t know, he wouldn’t know either I thought. You would be safe; all I ever cared about was your safety.’

‘You… should… have… told… me…’ Sherlock said very slowly with a hoarse voice and clenched jaw.

‘Look at the state you are in, Sherlock’ Mycroft said. ‘Look at the state you were in the past months, maybe even years. You were hardly capable of hearing this too, now where you?’ Mycroft could bring himself to putting his hand on Sherlock’s arm. ‘I know it has been hard on you, being with him, having to see him with ‘that woman’ I know, I see it every time I look in your eyes when I visit.’

‘I don’t know what you’re on about’ Sherlock still talked with his jaw clenched.

‘Yes you do, don’t deny it Sherlock. You know I’m smarter then you are. I see things, I know things. You love him. I see that. I don’t know if he sees that, but I do. I do wish for your sake he saw it too. You’d do anything for him. Look at what you’ve already done for him over the past years!’

Sherlock’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Stop it Mycroft. Just stop it.’ He whispered. ‘I can’t take it anymore, none of this. My mind won’t stop; I have nothing left to live for, now this bloody news, everybody knew but me. Even mum and dad knew, they probably know what you’re saying now too aren’t they?’

‘Mother does yes, she’s the smart one, always has been. She let it slip ones to me. Father looked at her and smiled and said; ‘Nothing passes by your mother you know.’ and went on reading the paper.’

‘Have you told him?’ Sherlock looked up at Mycroft like a puppy with wide open eyes.

‘Of course I haven’t! What on earth do you think of me? That’s your job. And I wouldn’t wait with that if I were you. Dr Watson is quite a mess himself you know.’

Sherlock glanced at Mycroft. ‘John doesn’t know and John will not know! No Mycroft I am adamant about that! I don’t think he feels the same way. He had a wife for God’s sake! You don’t tell him either! Understood!? And I can’t believe we are having this conversation! Bloody hell!’

Sherlock leapt out his bed and went for the cupboard to put his clothes on. He went into the bathroom and when he came back he was wearing his suit. ‘Well, come on then? Let’s go! I need a ride back to Baker Street don’t I?’

Mycroft handed him his coat and scarf and they went out the door. ‘Are you sure you aren’t going to take any more drugs, pills whatever?’

Sherlock sighed ‘No never sure of that. But I promise to try to be a good boy this time.’ He looked over at his brother as they got in the car. ‘Thank you Mycroft, really.’ And when he saw Mycroft looking surprised he said; ‘I know I’m a bother sometimes. I’m sorry for that. Thank you for trying to help me. And that’s it for the brotherly feelings for now.’ He smirked and the car drove off to Baker Street. 

- To be continued-