When his parents, Sherlock and John finally left and the door clicked closed behind them, Mycroft slumped down in his chair and rested his elbows on his desk. He felt completely wrung out and like his world had collapsed around him. He gave a bitter laugh at that thought. For all practical purposes, his world had collapsed. The only thing salvaged, apart from their lives, had been the thing of least import... his career.
The government official looked up at the sound of the door opening and didn't manage to suppress his groan upon seeing Sherlock enter. "The parental units didn't berate me soundly enough, brother-mine? You've come back to finish the job?" Mycroft leant back in his chair and closed his eyes. He was simply too tired to spar with his brother.
Pulling up a chair, Sherlock sat down across the desk from his brother, the odd lighting of the room playing across his face. He was silent for quite some time, then he cleared his throat and spoke, "Mycroft, that's not why I came back." He took a deep breath, then continued, "John and I have started talking in the last few weeks, no lies, no deceptions. We're trying to be honest with each other to avoid... misunderstandings. There have been too many of those, far too many. I think it's time you and I do the same thing. Talk."
"What could possibly be gained by that?" Mycroft asked wearily.
"Understanding," the detective said simply. When his brother didn't react for several moments, Sherlock filled the silence. "I regret that my actions and words over the years made you believe I could kill you, even to save John."
"Your feelings toward me have been more than justified. I think that's been proven."
"Get over yourself, Mycroft. It's not like you to wallow in self pity. I've been an idiot and that is something I won't say again. Now that I remember everything, I understand why you did what you did." Sherlock waved his hand around the room. "You never wanted this position, did you?"
At that, Mycroft smiled thinly. "No, I never did, but Uncle Rudy explained that I had no choice. Obtaining a certain level of power was the only way I would be able to oversee Eurus and to try to keep you from being confined as well. The government was afraid of you, Sherlock. Actually, they still are."
"Now that I know, I'll try to make things easier on you." The detective stood and looked at his brother. Mycroft looked so tired and worn. "Forget about Lady Smallwood. You would bore one another to death, besides... I know your tastes better than that. Call Lestrade. Have him over for dinner. Watch crap telly with him. You deserve something for yourself."
"What about you, Sherlock?" Mycroft asked. "Will you be okay?" He needed to believe he would. He couldn't stop worrying instantly, not after so many years.
Sherlock smiled. "After I see our parents off, I plan on watching crap telly with John... and Rosie, of course." He walked to the door and opened it, then looked back over his shoulder. "I want to get to know you again," he said, then left the office, closing the door behind him.
Mycroft was in a different kind of shock than he had been before. He felt the first stirrings of hope at his brother's words. Maybe the future promised more than the endless drudgery of his governmental position, maybe the future promised life.