Disclaimer: This is not mine. The BBC Sherlock comes from the genius that is Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat and is based on the stories by Arthur Conan Doyle.
The first thing Sherlock Holmes did after jumping off the roof of Saint Bartholomew's Hospital, was visit his mother.
John Watson was called in to identify the body, although there was no real need he had watched him jump.
No one informed Mycroft Holmes; he read it in the paper, a day later.
Violet Holmes read it in the very same paper while sitting across from her youngest at the breakfast table. Placing the paper on the table she raised an eyebrow and waited for an explanation.
Sherlock had never been able to deny his mother anything. In fact none of the Holmes men could. Siger Holmes had passed 3 years earlier, much to Sherlock's relief, and thankfully did not see the defiant look on Sherlock's face as he stated that his actions were necessary. Had he been alive Sherlock would not have been able to sit right for a week for daring to look at his mother 'in that way' and for taking 'that tone' with her.
Violet sighed, "Does your brother know?"
"He has undoubtedly read about it, as you have. And they will need to identify the body."
"So he believes you dead." It wasn't a question. The look of disappointment on his mother's face had Sherlock squirming in his chair.
"He gave Moriarty the information to put me in this situation, he can live with the consequences of his actions for a while longer. Besides he will know that it is not me in the morgue."
"How much longer Sherlock? He is your brother and despite what you have deluded yourself into believing, he does care for you!"
"Then why has he betrayed me? It is not as if I particularly enjoy deceiving John or even Lestrade for that matter, but as I have already said It. Was. Necessary." Sherlock slumped back in his seat and crossed his arms, sulking. Why was he getting a row when it was all Mycroft's fault?
"I am sure if your brother knew what his actions would lead to he would have chosen another path, now when do you plan on telling him that you are alive?"
Sherlock let out a sigh "He will undoubtedly call or visit you to help you in this time of 'mourning' I shall inform him then."
"And John? What of him?"
Sherlock hesitated; he did not want to lose John's friendship however his life was far more important. "When it is safe to do so." Well aware that that time may never come.
It was several hours before Mycroft Holmes arrived at the Holmes family estate. He had called in at 221B Baker Street earlier in the day only to be denied entry by one John Watson. Work had been even more stressful that usual, apparently the government did not believe in personal days, however truth be told Mycroft had been glad of the distraction, anything to keep away the guilt no matter how brief the reprieve. He still couldn't bring himself to see the body.
His driver pulled up the drive at around 21.00. Mycroft stepped out of the car and squared his shoulders readying himself to face his mother's tears. He made his way up the stone steps to the great oak front doors and entered. The entrance hall was dim although the flickering light from the lounge indicated that the fire was lit. Moving past the marble staircase he hesitated at the door. His mother had her back to him, facing the fire a glass of red wine on the table by her chair, an ominous sign as his mother almost never drank.
"Mummy?" His voice shook slightly and Mycroft mentally berated himself, Holmes men don't show weakness and he had to be strong for mother.
A movement from the chair drew his attention once more. His mother had risen to face him. He took a second to observe her appearance. The dry eyes, clear face, steady hands. She hadn't heard then. No that was impossible his mother got the same papers as he did, he ensured it, and this was front page news. Even if she hadn't seen the papers surely one of the help would have informed her…she was in shock then.
"Mummy I…" but before he could get another word out Violet Holmes cut across him,
"He's not dead Mycroft." Mycroft paused his mother wasn't one to make unfounded exclamations, though these were hardly normal circumstances.
"I know you want to believe that…" he began as he moved towards his mother.
"Mycroft do you not think that as a mother I would realise when someone I carried for 9 months and cared for all their life passed away?"
"Well mummy a mother's intuition can only…"
"I am well aware of that Mycroft but as your brother is currently in his room sulking because I made him eat his dinner I am can assure you that it is not just a mother's intuition telling me that both my dear boys are safe and well."
Mycroft froze.
"He's really ok?" He couldn't bring himself to care about how childish he sounded, he couldn't even be angry at Sherlock for deceiving him, the wave of relief that washed over him was so great that his knees buckled beneath him and he collapsed into the chair previously occupied by his mother.
"I thought that I… that he was…" Mycroft tried to choke out some sort of explanation to his mother but he couldn't, his eyes glistened with tear. Screw being a Holmes man, the woman kneeling in front of him had seen him at his best and at his worst. Screw the lessons that his father had tried to teach him.
"That I was dead?" the rich baritone of his brother cut through the room.
TBC.
A/N I actually have to study now so I'll get back to this at some point later in the week if you want. For those waiting for the end of reunion I apologise for the delay but rest assured I will finish it. University finishes soon so I will have some free time in which to write. It has mostly been written but I am still not happy with it.
Thanks Reviews are appreciated.