Chapter Text
-"What would you like to tell me?" - She paused, looking at the pale man sitting in the front, seven months had passed, the office décor was Prussian style, fine cedar furniture, Monet paintings, just copy obviously, a window with small stained-glass windows that reflect the light on the floor, every the possible colors of the visible spectrum, a shelf full of books of psychology, philosophy and science, Mycroft look over the place, nothing changed, everything was in its place, everything just as clean, as stopped in time, that's how he felt, totally stuck. His gaze suddenly changed - "We're supposed to talk, Mycroft" - She said softly and calmly.
-"I suppose I should not be here" - said Mycroft bewildered, they had never presented themselves properly, and after seven months, Mycroft did not understand how that woman had never called him, Mr. Holmes.
-"Where should you be?" - Mycroft was uncomfortable in every sense of the word.
-"Six feet under" - Mycroft said coolly without looking at her, he never looking into her eyes. Mycroft stood up and walked to the shelf and ran his hands through the books, as if it were his most treasured treasure.
-"You can take whatever you want" - for the first time she saw Mycroft smile.
-"Any self-help book to recommend me?" - Mycroft said mockingly.
-"Better than that ..." - she said quietly, She stood next to Mycroft, take a thin book without appearance of being important - "... this book is a piece of advice" - she offered him the book.
- "Letters from a Stoic - Seneca" - Mycroft read the title aloud, she nodded, and for the first time he looked into her eyes.
-"You do not fear me" - Mycroft said in a low, menacing voice, after he introduced himself to a group of inmates as a serial killer, just for fun, many quickly turned away, and stopped talking to him, it was the effect he sought, he did not need talk to the rest of the human beings locked up.
-"You do not ever look at me, I think you fear me more" - touché! - Mycroft thought with a smile - "Do you think of the men you murdered?" - The voice interrupted his thoughts and Mycroft closed his eyes.
-"Did you ever stop to figure that there's all kinds of dying, but only one way of being dead?- Mycroft said coldly.
-"And in their families?" - The Doctor Weber added cunningly.
-“Family?”- He asked ignoring the intention.
-"Yes, the families, Mycroft" - The older brother closed the book abruptly, the sound echoed throughout the room.
-"Why should I think of them in the first place? Besides, why are we talking about this?" - Mycroft said annoyed.
- "You tell me, Mycroft, you're the smart one here" - She watched him in the distance, each movement, each expression, Mycroft was observed as a virus under the microscope - "Because they also suffer, you robbed them of the possibility that they talked each other, to be forgiven "- Mycroft quickly turned annoying.
- "NO! What I did was to snatch a greater evil from this society, their brothers and sons were rapists!" - Mycroft said almost screaming and she smiled.
-"Mycroft, a murderer and a suicide person, is a mirror of our society too" - Mycroft tiredly leaned on the bookshelf, and there was an uneasy silence between them - "Mycroft, if you do not speak to me ..." - she said before could finish the sentence.
-"Dr. Weber, if you let me remind you, you told me there was treatment for me but not a cure," Mycroft said sadly confused.
- "That's why you're still here -
-"Obviously, but not for long, is it?" - Dr. Weber approached Mycroft putting his hand on her shoulder.
-"The problem is not that, Mycroft, have you had any hallucinations?" - The older brother clenched his hands tightly when he heard that question. His pride was still hurt, he was not crazy.
- "Not, of course, I'm permanently drugged, have you forgotten?" - said Mycroft smugly.
- "I have your final psychiatric assessment here in my hands, and as a patient you have the right to know my final opinion before you leaving" - Mycroft had allowed to deny himself the knowledge, he practically knew everything, he turned slowly, and the Dr. Weber smiled to see that she had all his attention - "First of all, I must emphasize that you have improved a lot since your entry, Mycroft, you have handled your anxiety and your emotional pain, and you have understood how to deal with that adversity, but on the other hand there is something that still worries me "- she said leaning in her chair, Mycroft began to approach slowly with curiosity.
-"What is it?" - Mycroft said impatiently.
- "When you told me about your murders, according to you did it as a way to compensate for your pain, well, Mycroft, I do not think so" - The Dr. Weber stood and surrounded her desk and she stared at him before touching his nose with her finger. - "You were looking for an emotional satisfaction, you felt pleasure in killing those men, Mycroft Holmes, you can not fool me, you tried to manipulate me and certainly you have ideas obsessive, in your words denote a lack of sincerity, insensitivity in your interpersonal relationships, you are selfish and you have a lack of empathy for those around you, absence of remorse and shame, you continue to justify your murders, but nothing can justify it, you have a vision of yourself exaggerated but you have always been an insecure person, it was difficult for me to differentiate what you really are ... because you are very clever and you possess a superior intelligence to any other patient who has had" - She sighed and Mycroft felt he was exposed in the depths of his being.- "I think it makes no sense to go on listing the clearest features of your current pathology and I'm afraid you've always had them, everything is written here" - she took the file once more - "I did get a copy for your brother, Sherlock, who by the way, he is still your tutor and another copy to Lady Smallwood, who is your direct superior "- the older brother smiled maliciously and Dr. Weber looked with mistrust at Mycroft -" Mycroft, I have diagnosed you with a psychopathic personality, of course you know it is not a mental illness but it is abnormal, and that is why in this report I have recommended that after you leave here your treatment be intensively supervised, your rehabilitation is just starting. "- Mycroft looked at her with a burlesque smile.
"Anything else?"- Mycroft said annoyed.
- "Yes, Mycroft, before you return home and your normal life, stay close to those who love you, as your brother, metaphorically speaking, stay close to the light, so that the darkness in you remains asleep, because you and I know, it's like a drug, killing is satisfaction and power, is not it, Mycroft? "- The older brother turns in and before leaving the office.
-"I told Sherlock I would not go back to London." Her blue eyes turned black as night and she felt a slight chill. "What strange expressions you psychiatrists use, psychopathic personality, I do not agree with you, Doctor Weber, I still can become the worst version of myself." - His voice was subtle and low, almost threatening.
Mycroft walked down the white corridor, without saying a word, his guardian was a few steps back, they did not leave him alone at any moment, for him it seemed like a bad dream, he felt permanently drugged, devoid of all reality, he sat outside hours watching the trees, but really the older brother was only the shadow of the man who had once been, in the morning sat with other inmates to have breakfast with plastic cutlery, was forced to have sections of group therapy to which only he remained in silence - the British government himself - Mycroft smiled as he remembered these words, leaning back in his room, watching as some inmates walked down the hall, it was Easter, so everyone was preparing something special, the older brother sat down at his small desk, turned on the light, and took a paper, and start to write. Mycroft knew that Dr. Weber had read his soul to perfection, this no doubt annoyed him and only for seconds he imagined himself taking the poker from the fireplace once again and cut off the Doctor Weber's throat of side by side, simple imagination, for years had never passed from a simple fantasy, the fantasy about killing his Uncle Rudy in every imaginable way, spent hours sitting by the fireplace thinking about this and his imagination surpassed the cruelty of every normal human being, and Mycroft knew that the way he killed the three rapists had been his greatest fantasy come true, his darkest passage no one would ever know - This is what I am - thought Mycroft, recognizing himself at last, his passing through that psychiatric institution had not only helped him to control his emotions even more, but to reveal his inner demons.
Sherlock was still in the same hallway 15 minutes ago - "They're just babies, for God's sake! they do not think and they do not know what they eat" - he thought as he looked puzzled at the supermarket gondola, the variety of baby food was extensive, carrot and lamb, mini beef casserole, chicken pasta tomato and mushroom, completely undecided, the younger brother did not know which option to take, it was a complete enigma, the detective exasperated breath and he only take each of the tiny containers and he put on the basket, Sherlock never imagined doing this, but John had to recover hours of attention to his patients, suddenly he stopped at a magazine and newspaper stand kiosk - A Whithchapel's drug dealer is accused for distributing videos of rapes - Sherlock looked surprised the photo of the cover and quickly recognized the man was his drug provider, and had also had contact with Mycroft, somehow Sherlock was grateful that this man wasn't free walking the London's streets, his brother would return in two more weeks and he must find a way to convince him to stay.
He climbed the stairs with the bags in her hands, Molly was waiting for him more than two hours ago, but there was no one there. - "Molly!" - shouted worried Sherlock, he searched the rooms and the kitchen, but there was no human signal, it was at that moment that the light throughout the flat was cut, Sherlock could only see thanks to his phone that illuminated the place, the detective heard several steps up the stairs - four to 5 men - he thought, his heart pounding and quickly took a knife that was on the table, but when he was ready to do it, he heard a familiar voices , even with the knife in his hand Sherlock saw Molly came in the room holding up a cake with small candles on it, John with Rosie in his arms, Mrs. Hudson with Greg, Sherlock's whole body seems to freeze, he had not felt for years such emotion.
-"Happy birthday Sherlock!" - said Molly smiling.
-"Come and put out the candles, Sherlock, what are you standing there for?" - Mrs. Hudson asked. Sherlock took his hands to his mouth, could not remember when it had been his last birthday this way.
-"asks for a wish, it's the tradition, Sherlock" - said John, still surprised Sherlock approached, could not help but smile, his happy moment in a long time.
-"Why ...?" - He said, still stunned.
-"Because you're our friend, Sherlock," Greg said as he hung his coat behind the door.
- "Sherlock, we do not have gifts but we thought this could be more than a gift for you" - Molly stretched an envelope with a letter inside.
- "What is it? If it is money I do not need it" -
-"Sherlock, bloody hell, just open it!"- Said John, almost losing his temper, Sherlock opened the envelope and there was something in it, and his expression changed rapidly.
-"Mycroft?" -He said in a low, sad voice.
-"Yes, Sherlock," said Molly.
- "If you excuse me ..." - Sherlock walked to his room and closed his door, sitting on the bed once more opened the envelope.
Sherlock,
I take a few hours to think that I would write for you, but it was not difficult to find the answer in my memories, I have always remembered your birthday because that day changed my life, it was a day when my wishes would be fulfilled, I would not be alone anymore, and despite that our childhood was very different to the two that we wanted, I never forget that moment and the sensation that caused me to have a baby brother. Even if I'm not there physically, always I'll be there for you; I just want to tell you, Happy Birthday, Sherlock.
p.s.: Smile for me, will you?
With love,
Mycroft.
The detective read this little note three times, carefully folded it into the pocket of his jacket, memorized it, and after a few minutes he smiled, Mycroft had never forgotten his birthday, there was always an early morning message, a call at the end of the day or an unexpected visit to just tell his baby brother - "It's your day, Sherlock, Happy Day" - that was all, but it was always enough for Sherlock, and despite those little details the detective always forgot the Mycroft's birthday, for some reason always called him a week before or a few days later, honestly, never mind, the younger brother thought that Mycroft did not care about these things, but he was wrong.
-"Are you all right, Sherlock?" - Molly said worriedly from the door.
-"Yes, I'm going in a moment," said Sherlock quieter.
He adjusted his jacket and walked to the living room, Mrs. Hudson was making tea in the kitchen and Greg helped her, Molly had Rosie in her arms.
-"Sherlock, there's something else we need to tell you" - Sherlock changed his expression- "It's nothing bad, do not worry" - said John as he looked at Molly.
-"We've talked, and we think you're right, Mycroft should stay in London" - Molly said, Sherlock sat down in his chair and crossed his legs.
- "I do not think I can convince him, he does not want to live in his house, and insists that he wants to go some boring place in the south of France, the countryside as always" - said sad Sherlock.
-"In theory, Mycroft would not have to come back his home" - Greg said.
-"What do you mean?" - Said Sherlock.
-"What we're trying to tell you is that Mycroft can live with you here." - Sherlock looked at him strangely. - "The point is, Sherlock, I've decided to move away to Molly's home, so Mycroft can live with you here in the flat for as long as he need, we understand that you need to be with your rubbish big brother "- said John with a smile.
-"If you ask me, Sherlock, I have no problem with that a serial killer live in my house" - said Mrs. Hudson with a mocking smile, Sherlock finally dropped his body into the chair, his head tilted to one side.
-"Thank you" - Sherlock looked at his friend, at least the detective had them, his family, his friends, Mycroft had no one or at least that would have always believed.
He took Rosie in his arms, and Sherlock wondered how Mycroft would behave with her, wondered how much his older brother had changed, and if he would be willing to stay with him, the detective knew it would be a challenge, he once again scrutinized Mycroft's final psychiatric assessment - "Psychopathic Personality and Suicidal Behavior, Final Diagnosis" - Sherlock read aloud, John took the report without saying anything, not only that worries Sherlock. - "It seems that Mycroft is more like Eurus than me, John, I feel that there is a certain kindness and humanity in him, that I can still save, I think" –
Mycroft looked at his left hand, he was missing his umbrella, he felt ridiculously helpless without it, he looked at the blue sky with some clouds, it was a spring day in London, in front of him was the black Jaguar, he missed these petty luxuries, got into the car and his only destination in mind was the airport, after an extended meeting in the Cabinet office he just wanted to escape from London, every place, every street was just a bad memory for him, and start to feel the anxiety that drowned him at night.
-"I suppose this is a new short route to the airport" - Mycroft said when he realized the driver was heading north to London.
-"No, Sir, I have orders to take you to 22B Baker Street" - said driver.
-"What? Orders from whom? - No way, I do order you to drive me to the airport" - Mycroft said, annoyingly.
-"Sir, I'm sorry, these are orders from Lady Smallwood" - said the driver.
-“Obviously," - he answered in frustration.
The black car proceeded slowly down the Baker Street, Mycroft loosened his tie a little, his breathing was a bit agitated and his heart pounding and leaping in his chest, he got out of the car, and he knew that Sherlock was watching him from the window. The door was open, on the hanger was the his younger brother's coat, could not help but smile, slowly climbed the stairs, despite that, Mycroft had to stop to catch his breath, Mycroft's heart was not the same as before.
-"Tired, brother mine?" - Sherlock said looking at him from the top of the stair, his voice was soft but with a worried expression.
-"I'm fine, Sherlock,"- Mycroft said with a soft smile, finally come in his brother's flat, everything was unusually ordered, or it had simply been too long for Mycroft to notice the difference.
- "You were going to leave without saying goodbye, Mycroft" - said Sherlock seriously and the older brother could discover the tension in his voice.
-"Why am I here, Sherlock? A flight awaits me!" - Mycroft asked, pretending to be surprised, both brothers standing in front of each other.
- "A flight that will never clear or land" - said Sherlock
-"Sherlock, please, we've already talked about this." - His voice is more like a throaty growl, as if to convey some frustration as well and he puts his hands on his hips with his elbows out to the sides.
-"Not for this, we have not yet spoken" - Sherlock rounded the chair, crossed his arms and continued - "We must do something neither of us have done before" - Mycroft looked confused - "We have never really spoken, brother mine, I need you to just listen to me, this is important for me "- said Sherlock, the older brother frowned and nodded.
He put his hands to his face, he did not know where to start, and he was only thinking about what Molly had said to him. - You need to do this, maybe this hurt you, but before continued, both need this - after a few seconds of looking at the dining carpet.
-“I borderline hated you, Mycroft, I thought for years, life, as was were growing up, was always a contest for you, you needed to win, no matter what, blaming me for your mistakes, telling on me for any misdemeanor you deemed me guilty of, everything was a competition – I was always the competition, you taunted me, you kept me insecure and stupid boy, humiliated me every time, you resented me and I could never figure out how to please you – Sherlock looked at his brother's pale face.
-"Sherlock, I ..." Mycroft said before he finished, the younger brother approached him, almost feeling his breath on his face.
-“just be quiet, Mycroft, I don’t finish it yet…For years I resented you, for all of it, I was a sensitive child, but you and our parents never understanding of, or open to emotions, for years I blame you for the emotional scars and insecurities you’d successfully cultivated in me, I wanted nothing do with you, I drugged myself because it made me feel good, Mycroft, away from you mentally, away from your control, I borderline hated you and for long time we only spoke occasionally, when family get-togethers required, I couldn’t relax in your company, I couldn’t trust you…the truth is that we were brought up in an emotionally inhibited family, we did not have bad parents, Mycroft, I think, but lacked emotional guidance” – Mycroft was emotionally affected, he could not look at Sherlock –“ and I understand your pain too brother mine, I understand now your overprotective action, your insecure, but I can see you have changed, we can never have that perfect childhood but we can still have a future friendship, I need a my brother, I need a my friend, I need you, Myc, if I told you all this, was not to hurt you, but to overcome our grudges and differences.”-
Mycroft was silent, looking at the fireplace and the amount of books above on it, Sherlock expected some kind of reaction from him.
- "I know you have something to tell me, I have not been the perfect brother ..." - said Sherlock
-"You're right, Sherlock, in every single thing you said ..." - Mycroft said in a faint, almost inaudible voice.
- "But not when I hit you ..." –
- "Not, when you pointed the gun at me ..." - said Mycroft, the younger brother finally smiled, this was what Sherlock expected. - "I know, Sherlock, that I will never be your first choice, that you will only see me as your annoying brother, you wish to be far from me and I can understand it, I can live with that, you never respected me, you always looked for the way to make fun of me front your friends, but you are my brother and I always found the way to forgive you for that… after a while our conversations were one discussion after another, I tried many times to talk to you but it was useless, I never understood what you felt ... maybe Sherlock I'm stupid for not understanding your emotions and feelings as you expected, and I'm sorry for all the damage I made to you, I hope you'll forgive me someday "- he said in a broken voice, his throat tightening -" My only relief is that he has a great friend with you, John, and that you will not be alone, Sherlock, I know you do not need me, I'm really proud even if you do not believe it ... you're great man" - Mycroft took his coat and looked at Sherlock -"I must go now, Sherlock, take care, do you want? "- he said in a low voice and before out the door.
-"I forgive you," - said Sherlock distressed, Mycroft stopped, and turned slowly. - "…and…I want you to stay, this can be your home, and maybe it's not ..." -
-"Sherlock, please do not make this harder" - Mycroft said in an anguished voice.
-"What will you do when you get there, write a suicide note and hang yourself from some beam? That’s your plan?" - Sherlock said seriously, - "instead you can stay and help me in my stupid cases, take care of Rosie ..."
- "Take care of whom?" - said Mycroft surprised.
-"Forget it, will you stay?" - He said with a smile.
- "One of the two will at some point feel miserable by this decision, Sherlock" -
-"No, Mycroft, if we have any problem, we will speak as the rest of mortals do."-
- "Okay, just a week, then I'll leave ..." - said Mycroft.
- "Say it, I want to hear you, say it, Myc, say it, say it, say it..." - Mycroft looked confused.
-"Stop repeat! what? Are you eight years old or what? "- Mycroft was losing his patience
- "Say it, say it, say it ..." - Sherlock said smiling; Mycroft took a deep breath, made a gesture with his hands.
- "Finel! ... I will stay, brother mine" - happiness, was what the younger brother felt at that moment.
- "Brother mine? it's been years!" - Sherlock approached Mycroft. - "Promise me that if you feel any need... hurt yourself, call me first"- Sherlock looked at his blue eyes.
- "Sherlock, I remind you that I am..."-
-"Promise me" - Sherlock said seriously.
-"I promise you" - Sherlock smiled. - "Where are you going?" - Mycroft asked.
- "I'll get your suitcase ..." - Sherlock under the stairs and Mycroft followed him - "The suitcase is heavy, what do you bring, a corpse?" - Sherlock said mockingly, the older brother rolled his eyes and looked at him seriously but after a few seconds both began to laugh, as if they were accomplices of something - "Did you miss me?" - Sherlock suddenly asked, looking at Mycroft.
-"Always" - Mycroft said, and he could see that perhaps everything would change between them, at last.