Fix You, a sherlock fanfic

I have a 30 page essay to write, yet, I choose to write and upload two Sherlock one-shots. Please, a round of applause to my stupid/brilliant brain of mine!

Hope you enjoy it at least...

Leave a review, it will be very much appreciated! :D

Mycroft walked in the room and smiled immediately once he met his mother's gaze. She sketched a feeble smile back at him, the best smile she could express given the circumstances. He walked closer to her bed and leaned, placing a kiss on her head.

"Hello mummy."

Violet shakily touched her son's face. "Hello, darling. Take a seat."

Mycroft pulled a chair closer to the bed and held her hand on his. His happy expression faded as he asked. "The time has come, hasn't it?"

"Yes, I'm afraid it has. Where is your brother?"

"He's on his way. He's coming, mother, don't worry."

Violet smiled, affirming. "How can a mother not worry about her children?"

Violet Holmes was known for being a strict but good and loving mother. She was aware of her sons' capabilities and always incentivized and guided them so they'd thrive in life. Once she realized that her boys were now grown men and that she had done a good job in raising them, she allowed herself to expose a softer core. She expresses in other ways how much she loves them.

"You don't have to worry now." Mycroft reminded. "Let us worry about you. We look after each other."

"You still keep an eye on him?"

"Not as much as I used to before. Ever since he got John as flat mate, I don't have to worry in excess."

"True that." Violet spoke. "If John wasn't a trustworthy and good man your brother would never share the flat with him and become his friend."

"When I heard that John was going to be Sherlock's flat mate I met with him and offered him money so he'd keep me informed about Sherlock. He had just met him that morning and yet refused my offer. I knew from that moment he was a principled and reliable man."

"I just don't know how your brother dragged an Army doctor to his detective exploits."

Mycroft grinned, explaining. "You know Sherlock has a way to captivate people. Even if he has to nag them for hours." Violet chuckled, and Mycroft continued. "It's true, I suffered a lot from it when he was growing up, especially when he wanted to go out and do experiments. It cost me the acceptance at college."

Mycroft saddened after remembering such thing. That was the moment that made Sherlock and Mycroft drift apart. When he was enrolled on a university abroad Sherlock lost the only person who understood him. Perhaps, his only friend at the time. No-one knew how to deal with him, only Mycroft, whose brain was much alike his. The two brothers never showed emotions, and so, as the years went by, the distance between them was more aggravated because of that.

"Don't think about it now." Violet grasped her son's hand, sensing what was wrong with him. "What happened, happened and no-one can change their past."

"He once asked me if there was anything wrong with us. We're not like everyone else."

"Everyone's different. You two are definitively special and behave in an unusual and different way."

"Sometimes I wish we weren't that special, you know?"

Their conversation was interrupted as Sherlock opened the door. Like his brother, his lips also drew a smile as he walked to his mother, putting a kiss on her head. Having no other chair in the room, Sherlock took a seat at the edge of the bed.

Violet placed her hand over her son's leg, while greeting him. "Hello, Sherley."

"Hi mummy. What were you two talking about?" He asked, holding her hand on his.

Mycroft quickly jumped in, saying. "We were talking of how you can drive people insane."

"Since when do I drive people insane? And whose people are those?"

"People like me, for instance; you drive me insane ever since we were kids."

"Well, you weren't easy to deal with either. Not even now!"

"Boys." Violet said with a smile, trying to scold them.

"He was the one who started the conversation." Mycroft stated.

"No, I didn't. I just asked what the topic of the conversation was and you immediately retaliated against me. You were the one who started."

"I did not-"

The two stopped bickering because their mother was chuckling. "How much I missed my boys quarreling."

For the next minutes the two helped their mother go through her memories, helping her reviving the times when Mycroft and Sherlock were little kids. After a while the brothers were immerse on the thinking as well.

Sherlock was looking around every once in a while. He wasn't familiar with the place and was confused with the purpose of being there. He has only been there twice, visiting Mother Violet on her birthday and on Christmas.

That was all Mycroft's arrangements. The payment for the best room of the hospital, a nurse accompanying her all along, the chemo sessions that didn't seem to work. For the past year her breast cancer doesn't get better. It gets worse instead.

Nothing worked anymore. Violet had given up, tired of an unfair fight. Mycroft had understood that the moment he walked in that room. Not to mention the fact that he has knowledge of his mother's medical record weekly.

But Sherlock, he did not understand it. He knew about his mother's disease, its gravity and all that, but he was unaware of the gravity of a situation for the first time in years. His mother is his refuge and with her he doesn't think; he goes back to his young self-persona that was carefree.

So, Mycroft watched and smiled along with his mother. His eyes mirrored a deep sadness knowing she wouldn't last long and then he'd put his eyes on his little brother, immersed on her, on their memories, unaware of what was going to happen.

Mycroft respected his mother's decision. He couldn't ask her to keep on fighting if she didn't have the strengths anymore. He wasn't that selfish. But something tougher waited him. He'd have to mend Sherlock's broken heart before healing his, but he knows his brother will never admit that there's a problem.

Violet let go of both their hands and said. "I think it's time you two go home."

Sherlock and Mycroft had different reactions.

The oldest one slightly nodded his head, kissing his mother's hand and walked to the door.

But Sherlock stood there. "No, I'm not leaving."

"Go home, darling." Violet spoke. "I need some rest."

"You can rest all you want when you're dead."

"Sherlock," Mycroft said, pulling him by the arm. "let's go."

Violet raised her hand and waved goodbye to her sons.

Once they were outside the Sherlock had his eye focused on the door, eager to turn the doorknob and enter there again.

"All lives end, all hearts are broken." Mycroft expressed on a sigh.

Sherlock looked at him. He heard the grief on Mycroft's voice. His chin trembled and he looked down once he felt his eyes being drown in tears. Mycroft grabbed him by the coat lapel and abruptly pulled him for a hug.

Mycroft held back his own tears when patting his back. Sherlock hugged his brother tightly and the other reciprocated in the same way.

At that moment Mycroft felt he was hugging his baby brother, just like he years back when he was sent to college abroad. Sherlock hugged tight to him and didn't want him to leave. Even now as grown man Mycroft has the care of looking after Sherlock and he will never neglect his 'duties' as older brother. More even now since they are all that is left of the Holmes family.

Mycroft parted the hug and placed both his hands on Sherlock's upper arms. The two gazed each other for a while and then he said. "Come on, I take you home."

The ride was silent as the two crawled into their usual selves personalities. The two were safe again behind the walls they created.

Sherlock made his way upstairs and didn't say a word to John, even though he spoke with him. Yet, the doctor hushed; he sensed that there was something wrong. Sherlock grabbed his violin and started playing "sad music" as John says.

As for Mycroft, he walked in his office and sat down. The jacket was resting on the back of the chair, his shirt sleeves were rolled up and he put his fingertips together, placed in front of his lips. On the left side there was a cup with whiskey, on the right side his phone. He had just got the call.

Their mother had died shortly after the two left.

All lives end, all hearts are broken. Even the hearts of those that people call the stony heart brothers.