The Final Deduction
Mycroft looked up warily at the sound of approaching footsteps. It was highly improbable that Eurus had come to haunt him again, yet the most obvious conclusion was one he liked even less. His little brother always did have the worst timing.
Sherlock took a few seconds to look his brother over. The deductions he made were so obvious, even Andersen with a blindfold on couldn't fail to see it. The creased suit, Mycroft's hunched over position on the sofa, his bloodshot eyes lined with purple bags, combined with the stubble on his chin, told the tale of the breakdown of the British Government.
"Allow me to make a deduction, brother dear," the younger man spoke up. The older man did not respond, so the younger one stared straight into his eyes and continued, his voice as soft and serious as it could ever be.
"Every path you've ever taken, every choice you've ever made—the man you are today, was guided by your interactions with Eurus."
"Why…" started Mycroft, then trailed off. "Why are you throwing my words back at me? Is this some kind of revenge?"
"It's the truth, pure and simple. Now that I have the facts, it allows to make some deductions and reach the obvious conclusions. You weren't always the way you are now, an ice man and loner. You obviously care about your family, and you have an actual, beating heart. I will tell you what I assume happened and you can correct me if I'm wrong."
"Sherlock, I do believe I've had my share of scoldings to last me a while, why don't you just go play some deduction games with your little doctor friend and leave us grownups in peace," Mycroft interrupted him with his most condescending sneer.
Sherlock gave a half smile and responded, "Because I need to say it, brother mine, and you need to hear it." Taking a deep breath, he began.
"When you were seven years old, I was born. Being an older brother gave you a sense of responsibility, and you made it your mission to protect me. One year later, Eurus was born. Quite soon afterward, it became apparent that she was different. You were the one who came closest to understanding her, because of your extraordinary mind and talents. Our parents had a hard time dealing with your differences, but were completely lost when it came to Eurus. So you did what any proper older brother would do—you made it your responsibility to take care of her and help her.
Your job became infinitely more complicated. Now you had to watch over another sibling, and not only that, but protect one sibling from the other. You realized early on the our sister was not only capable, but willing, to hurt others weaker than her."
Mycroft sat mutely on the sofa, his expression blank, only his eyes betraying a trace amount of confusion and hurt, as Sherlock went on:
"You cared about her. You tried desparately to save her from herself, yet you couldn't figure her out. When she cut herself that time, our parents and all professionals tried to figure why she tried to kill herself, but you were the only one who understood that she must have had different intentions. She tried to explain herself to you when she was younger, but eventually gave up when she realized even you didn't understand.
"You were a teenager when the incident with, you know, that…Sorry, it's still difficult for me to process what happened, but once you realized what she had done to him, to our parents, to me, you made the most difficult decision in your life: to rip out a part of your heart, to stop caring about your sister, to ensure the rest of the family was safe.
"Mummy and Daddy were brokenhearted when they took her away, and never made peace with what she had become. They were somewhat in denial about her condition, talking about their hopes for her being cured, dreaming about bringing their little girl home. They visited on rare occasions, and came back home each time devastated when she didn't acknowledge them.
"Then came a time when you were an adult, and our parents requested you keep an eye on her. With Uncle Rudy's help, you climbed the rungs in the government, and had access to more records and classified information. You must have found out some shocking information about our sister, which led you to recommend her transfer to Sherrinford, and then lied to our parents to spare them the heartbreak of what their daughter had turned into.
"While you were protecting our parents, you kept a close eye on me, swearing to yourself that you would do better by your other sibling, and not let me break. Our parents were again lost by my reactions to the incident, but only you could somewhat understand my unique mind. You realized I had manipulated my own memories, and resolved to let it be while watching for any signs of memory resurgence.
"You have been following and protecting me my entire life, yet you can't let yourself show that you actually care. You have cared for someone and been let down horrifically, having to take action against someone you loved. You numbed your heart because you can't bear to be let down again, and built walls so nothing can touch you, as you are terrified of becoming like Eurus, or even me. Yet you can's stop caring, because you do have a heart somewhere, as you have pointed out several weeks ago in that prison."
Sherlock stopped his monologue and leaned against the wall, waiting. "So why have you come to tell me all this? I am not one of your silly clients and I don't need to hear deductions about my heart or whether it exists. I would appreciate if you got to the point, brother mine" Mycroft burst out petulantly.
"Is it true or not? Answer that first" Sherlock demanded. Mycroft smiled in his typically condescending manner and responded "Alright. You're mostly correct. I won't tell you what exactly Eurus did or tried to do to you, as it's the stuff of some of my nightmares. I did care for her, and our parents were in a fragile emotional state for a long while. If you want to know, I deduced that she had gotten at least three residents of her former residence to commit suicide and one to commit homicide on another by choking him with his bare hands. What frankly alarmed me the most was the thought of her trying to get revenge on our parents or you for abandoning her. So I sentenced my own sister to hell."
"Wrong." Sherlock interrupted him. "You said you cared for her. You still do. You feel guilty for locking her up. You still tried to talk to her, even gave her the violin, and don't tell me it was about some silly government mission."
"I try not to, but that's not how sentiment works, unfortunately. Now, why are you telling me all this, besides for trying to prove how clever you are?"
"Because I want to say something I don't believe I've ever told you before." Sherlock stepped forward and leaned forward. "Thank you. Thank you, brother mine. Thank you for taking upon your shoulders the burden of protecting your family. Thank you for all those times you worried about me, and all those times you extricated me from hopeless situations. Thank you for sticking by me, even when I rejected your help and resented your presence."
There was an odd sheen in Mycroft's eyes and a slight tremor in his hands. Sherlock knelt down and gently took his brother's hands in his. Mycroft stiffened, but did not pull away. "There's something else I need to tell you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not realizing you were carrying such a burden. I'm sorry for pushing you away. I'm sorry for never appreciating how much you cared for me, how much you cared about me.
"I was upset at you for lying to me. I was upset at what you did to Eurus. I let you be scolded by our parents. I was an idiot that didn't see that you had done the very best you could. Recently, I told someone else to look after you because I couldn't be bothered. After all those times you saved me from my messes, I wasn't there for you the one time you needed me." His voice broke a little. "I'm sorry, Mycroft."
Mycroft still didn't speak, but slowly squeezed his hands. Sherlock suddenly smiled mischievously and said, "You know, saying all these sweet things is getting quite dull. I think I'll do an experiment." He quickly stood up, tugging Mycroft along with him. He removed his hands from his brother's hold and suddenly threw them around him. Mycroft sputtered a moment before sighing "Oh, Sherlock…" and gently putting his arms around his brothers head, guiding it to rest on his shoulder. He picked up one hand and slowly ran it along the dark curls, up and down for several moments. The wetness in his eyes was starting to spill over, yet he didn't pay it heed.
"I used to do this for you when you were younger, when you were younger. Until you stopped letting me…when you changed." Mycroft spoke quietly. "You have erased many memories of your past, not just the traumatic ones. You recreated your past in your mind to suit what was in the present, to make life less confusing."
"I'm starting to remember things…bits and pieces- it's hard…figuring out what's real and what's fake," Sherlock babbled into his brother's shoulder, before releasing a sob.
"Shhh, little brother, we'll figure it out. Don't trouble that idiot brain of yours now," the older one murmured, while starting to rub circles onto the younger ones back. "I was here for you before, and I'll always be there you." They held their embrace for several long minutes while the sobbing subsided, while the elder's tears had managed to stop their silent descent. "This time, I want to be there for you to," Sherlock whispered, and his brother rubbed his hair again. "We'll be there for each other, brother mine."
Much later, when they had finished the tea Mycroft had managed to make and spent the morning in games of deduction, Mycroft asked, "So, will you tell me what experiment you were talking about earlier, Sherlock?"
Sherlock got his familiar grin back on his face when he answered, "Oh, I've been hugging all sorts of different people lately. Let's see, there was that serial killer that nearly killed me, that psychopath of a sister that nearly killed me, that army doctor colleague who also nearly killed me… So I figured, why not try to hug one more person who wants to kill me, and see if I actually end up dead this time?"
"Goodbye, brother mine," Mycroft responded in his most dangerous tone, as Sherlock watched him reach for… "NO! Not the brolly! Please, anything but the brolly!" he begged, while quickly running to hide behind the sofa.
"You shouldn't have sent a CLOWN after me!" Mycroft yelled. They were both silent a moment, Sherlock peeking out from behind the sofa, and then simultaneously burst into laughter. It was good to laugh again.