Mrs. Holmes was a lovely woman. There was no one who had ever met her that would protest this. The wife of a well respected surgeon she was beautiful, graceful, and extremely charming. She was on the board of as many charities as would have her and was always found in attendance at every society function that she was invited to. She was the picture perfect high society wife, without a single care in the world. But with one call from the doctor all of that changed.
Mrs. Holmes had never been a worrier not until the doctor told her she was going to be a mother. From that day on all she seemed to do was worry. She worried that the baby wouldn't take. She worried that she wasn't eating enough for both her and the baby. She worried that she wouldn't fit into the dress she had made for the Thompson's party next month. She worried about whether or not her child would love her and when the doctor placed her little Mycroft in her arms she worried that she wouldn't be enough for the tiny bundle in her arms.
The more Mycroft grew the more she worried. She worried that he wasn't developing correctly. She worried that he might injure himself. She worried that she was codling him. She worried that she spent too much time on her charities and that her poor little boy might get lonely with her away so it was a blessing when she found out that she had another little one on the way.
With her second pregnancy Mrs. Holmes didn't worry as much. There just wasn't enough time in the day for it as she ran around after her toddler and tried to maintain her involvement in the few charities she had managed to stay on with, but once little Sherlock had entered the world she learned to fit more worrying into her schedule.
While Mycroft had been a fairly quiet and easy child, Sherlock was loud and cranky and difficult. Mrs. Holmes had done everything to sooth her poor child but nothing worked. She had even consulted the doctor but he had said it was colic and there was nothing that could be done. Mrs. Holmes worried that her youngest son would never be happy.
On one particular night where Sherlock would not stop screaming Mrs. Holmes stood pacing in the nursery trying to think of anything to soothe her little boy. The creek of the door brought her out of her own mind as her eldest son entered the room. 'Why won't he stop screaming?' Mycroft had asked. She'd had no answer but she didn't need one. Mycroft walked right over to his little brother's bassinette poked his head over the side and quite firmly told him to stop it and for one brief shining moment the room went quiet. Mrs. Holmes walked over to her children; Mycroft peering down at Sherlock pointing a finger in his face and Sherlock just staring back up at his big brother. 'It looks as though he listens to you' Mrs. Holmes whispered to Mycroft who turned his head and smiled at her. As Mycroft turned his head away Sherlock took the opportunity to grab his brother's finger and take a nice big bite. Mycroft screamed out and Sherlock followed suit and that was the end of the peace in the Holmes household.
From that moment on Mrs. Holmes could not let her boys alone together. Somehow, someway they always managed to get into trouble. It was as though they were born with an inbred animosity, and it only got worse the older they got. As children they fought over their parents' attention as adolescents they fought over the attention of girls, in school they constantly fought over who had the higher marks and who could win the most accolades and as they grew into men she saw them fight over who had the better job, or position in life, and always she worried.
She worried that her boys, her precious, precious boys would tear each other apart if given the chance, it was her biggest fear in life. She had spent their lives keeping them from harming each other, and she loved them more that life itself. That was all she could think about as she laid in her hospital bed listening to them bicker over something she was too weak to eaves drop on. 'Boys' it was quiet but it stopped them in their tracks. Calmly each took his place on either side of their mother. 'Will you ever stop fighting?' She asked with a smile already knowing the answer. Mycroft would look sheepish at upsetting his sick mother and Sherlock would gawf under his breath. 'Not Likely' It was Sherlock. She could barely hear it but it made her smile to know that she was right about her boys even after so many years.
She began to cough violently, a red substance coating the handkerchief she held in her hand. It was Mycroft who ran to get a doctor as Sherlock held her free hand and rubbed her back until the coughing subsided. 'My darling,' she began once she had her breath back, 'I want you to promise me something' 'Anything' 'Promise me that you will never forget that your brother loves you.' She watched Sherlock shake his head and open his mouth to speak, 'I mean it Sherlock. I know that you and Mycroft have never truly gotten along, but he is your brother and when I die…' 'Mother you're not going to…' 'Do not patronize me. I am not a well woman and I am not long for this world, now Mycroft has made his promises to me and now I want you to do the same. When I die I do not want you and your brother to fall apart from each other. Even if it is no more often than Christmas Day, remember that Mycroft is your family, and that despite all appearances you two do love each other. Promise me that, my love, and everything will be alright.' Sherlock brought his mother's hand to his mouth kissed it once and promised her. Mycroft was soon back with the doctor who tested, prodded and poked her before leaving her alone with her boys again.
Both boys fought hard when the doctor told them that visiting hours were over. They ranted and raved until a quiet command from their ailing mother told them to be quiet and do as the good doctor said, assuring them that she would see them again in the morning and that all she needed was a rest. She kissed them both on their cheeks and sent them on their way listening as they bickered down the hall. Oh her boys. Mrs. Holmes smiled, perhaps a rest would do her some good, the lord knew she hadn't had a proper one in quite some time. Slowly she closed her eyes and with one last thought she drifted off. 'Maybe now I can stop worrying'.