Hello, Ritsuka here! And I'm back with another fanfic.

Warning! This is going to be a very brutal and hard fanfic, it is based on a film called La Rafle (or The Round About in English) based on a true-story.

We are in 1942, during World War 2, France is divided in two, one in collaboration with Hitler (zone Pétain) and the other rebelling against the Germans (zone libre).

Mycroft is 16, Greg 17, John 14 and Sherlock 12.

Have fun reading!

The Lies We Succumb To.

Paris, 25 june 1942.

It was such a wonderful summer.
The sun was shining brightly, not a cloud in sight. Kids and soldiers were riding the carousel, a man soldier filming them as they laughed and played. The man then focused on another kid with a grayish-blue berret on his head next to him. He smiled at the boy who held his school bag to his chest. The child, unhappy, lowered his bag, to reveal the yellow star glued on his clothes with Juif printed on it. The man's smile faded as he noticed the star and backed away, towards his friends. The child watched the man go and quickly left the park. As he left, he glanced to the side, spotting the large sign sporting the phrase Interdit aux juifs.
The child walked through the streets before stopping as he spotted familiar black curls amongst the crowd.
"Sherlock! Where were you? We're going to be late, come on!" He grabbed his brother's hand and tugged him along.
"But I don't wanna go Myc! Mycroft!"
"Sherlock!" They sped through the streets, arriving at their school just as the school bell rang. He and Sherlock parted ways to go to their own class. Mycroft could already hear the students singing the morning song. He squeezed through the students to settle next to his best friend, Gregory Lestrade.
"You could've waited for me!" he whispered, under the disapproving glance of his teacher.
"Sorry! My mum walked me to school today. Couldn't leave her sight even if I wanted to." They joined the other students for the last verse of the song.
"If anyone thinks he can fool around for the last week of school, he will get a kick in the arse. Understood?"
"Yes sir!" They responded in unison.
"Good, now go inside! Come on boys!" The teacher stopped Mycroft before he could enter and took off the hat. He smiled at the boy as he ruffled his ginger hair before ushering him in.

A few hours later.

Greg and Mycroft ran out the school and into the streets. They laughed as they slithered through the crowds, enjoying every second of their day even when people called them names. As Mycroft descended the stairs, Greg slid down the railing.
"Gregory! You're going to hurt yourself!"
"Nah, I'm a pro don't worry." They laughed and passed the baker who swung his broom at them.
"Hey! You little brats! Not here shoo! Go away you filths!" They laughed again as they dodged the baker's broom and ran away.
The boys lived in a residence mixed Jews and Catholics. Their rooms were small and old but it was home. There was a large courtyard and despite the odd mix, the Catholics respected the Jews unlike some others.
Aryeh Holmes, the father of Mycroft, was a hard working man, specialising in architecture and art, Nava Holmes, the mother, was a calm and quiet woman with long curly strawberry blonde hair and light green eyes.
Noah Lestrade, the father of Greg, had gone to the north not wanting to stay in Paris and Shoshana Lestrade was a woman with four kids, Michael (25), Rafael (20), Greg and Tikva(6).
"Boys, haven't you forgotten something?" scolded Shoshana, a light smile on her face. Mycroft face-palmed and Greg groaned.
"Come on Myc, let's go back." They ran back towards the school. When they arrived, a elderly woman (teacher?) was waiting at the front door with three kids around her. She looked very unhappy. She shoved the kids in their direction before going back into the school and slamming the door shut.
"This is the third time this month Mycroft!" whined Sherlock, holding the hand of his best friend John, Tivka was in Greg's arms, too tired to walk.
"Sorry Sherlock."
"Sorry's not going to change anything Myc!" Sherlock pouted.
"At least you're not alone, you've got me and Tikva." John smiled brightly. John had dark blonde hair and sea blue eyes, Tikva had short curly brown hair and brown eyes.
When they arrived home, they picked up Greg's brothers and went straight for the church to their secret hideout. As Mycroft lock-picked the lock that held the small door to their hideout, the others looked out for the Father.
"Mycroft! He's coming!" whispered Michael. Mycroft scrambled to his feet and put on a smile as the Father passed.
"Good afternoon Father!" They said in unison.
"Good afternoon kids." He smiled and left. When he was out of sight, Mycroft was once more on his knees and quickly finished his business with the lock.
"Yes! Let's go!" He said as he went through the small opening. The rest followed. As soon as they were inside, Greg pulled Mycroft in his arms and kissed him softly. This was the only place where they could be themselves.
"Hello love."
"Hey..." Mycroft stood on his tip-toes to kiss him again.
"Ain't that cute! Rafael! Greggie's younger than you and he's already in a serious relationship!"
"Shut up Michael!"
"John, do you want to see my snails?" asked Tikva. She collected snails in a small box that she kept in the hideout.
"Yeah, sure Tikva. Sherlock?"
"Hmm?"
"Do you want to come and see the snails?"
"Boring." he replied.
"Okay."
The boys and Tikva played until sunset. It is unwise for Jews to stay out once the sun had fully set.

Berlin, 05 July 1942.

"We had an accord! You were going to hand us all of your Jews!" cried the German representing Hitler.
"All of them is too much, furthermore we are not allowed to touch the Zone Libre (South) of France. That belongs to de Gaulle." replied the French representing Pétain.
"We should organise a new rafle." The French froze.
"Another rafle? Is Pétain going to accept?"
"I'm sure he will. When should we start?"
"The night of the 14th of July. First all Jews must be noted as foreign, we wouldn't want a scandal now would we?" The French smirked as the German laughed. The message was passed on to all necessary assets in Northern France and Germany. In a few days, all Jews were foreign and the French police was ready to round all Jews the morning of the 14th of July.

Paris, 14 July 1942.

Mycroft and Sherlock's POV.

It was 6 in the morning according to the clock, it was still dark outside and Mycroft hadn't slept all night and neither had Sherlock. They thought about the news they heard yesterday in the afternoon. There were whispers that said that another rafle would begin early in the morning. The groundskeeper said that she would shout for her cat if the police ever arrived.
Mycroft was about to fall asleep when he heard it.
The sound of heavy footsteps on pavements, the sound of carriages rolling in every direction and the screams and cries of women, children and men in the dead of the night.
It was happening. They were taking the Jews away, they were going to take father away from them!
"Kiki! Kiki, Kiki! Come here girl! THEY'RE HERE! RUN! RUN!" screamed the groundskeeper.
Mycroft and Sherlock jumped out of bed to their mother, who was standing in the kitchen, eyes wide in fear fixated on the door. The stairs were rattleing as the police climbed them. Their father refused to leave them and came by their side, hugging them tightly.
Screams and shouts could be heard, Mycroft recognized a few of them, including the Lestrades and the Watsons.
"THEY'RE TAKING THE WOMEN AND CHILDREN! THEY'RE TAKING THE CHILDREN! RUN! RUN MYCROFT RUN!" He heard Greg scream. Mycroft couldn't believe it. The last rafle he understood why they took the men, they said they needed them back in Germany, but now, why would they take the women and children? It didn't make any sense! Sherlock took his box full of marbles and went out the door. He opened it and threw all the marbles down the stairs. He watched as one of the officers slipped on the marbles and fell to his most probable death. However, the trick hadn't fooled the other police officers. Sherlock ran back in his apartment and hugged his mother tightly.
"Mummy, I'm scared!"
"It's alright, it'll be okay." She whispered. Two police officers slammed the door open and walked into the room with a threatening glare and baton in hand.
"Names!" said one of them, a paper in his hand.
"Aryeh, Nava, Mycroft and Sherlock Holmes sir." said Aryeh. The other officer sneered.
"Okay! Now go and pack everything and anything for two days time! Clothes, blankets, silverware go go go! Quickly!" He snapped at them. Mycroft was about to put food in their case when the officer held the baton at his neck.
"No need for that now, there will be some of that at the place you're going." The officer retracted the baton with a caress. Mycroft shivered in disgust. Soon enough they were led downstairs with a shove. A boy in Sherlock's class was crying as he watched them go.
"And look! There's Sherlock! Please take him Mum, take him please! Don't let him go!" He begged his mother. The mother simply held him close with a look of sorrow on her face.
"Goodbye Louis." said Sherlock.
"Goodbye Sherlock. Goodbye Sherl... Sherlock, Lockie..." Sherlock waved one last time at Louis before he disappeared out of sight. Once on the road, they quickly joined the Lestrades, none of the Watsons were in sight.
"Gregory!" cried Mycroft, running towards Lestrade.
"Myc!" Lestrade met him halfway and hugged him close. Sherlock tugged at Michael's shirt.
"Where's John?" He asked.
"The Watsons escaped Sherlock, they managed it. They're hiding in a church as we speak." He whispered. Sherlock suddenly felt enormously betrayed. How could John leave him? Why? They were best friends, they were supposed to stay together!
"Michael! Where's Tivka?" cried Shoshana.
"Wasn't she with you?" replied Rafael.
"I can't find her, oh God!" She sobbed. They all froze as they heard a sickening crack near by and someone scream.

John's POV.

Mother, father and Harriet were all gone. They had packed everything while John was at the hideout with his friends. There was nothing left.
He heard screams, cries and shouts. They were coming, the police. If they found him they were probably going to take him away.
He pulled at the floorboard, making a small entrance and hid in the small space below. He was so tall for his age, he could pass for an adult and they would take him away if they saw him.
He replaced the floorboard at it's proper place and controlled his breathing. The door slammed open and he heard one, no two, people enter the apartment.
"Damn! They left!"
"Let's not waste time on this! We've got orders." John heard a noise of affirmation and listened as they left the apartment. He quietly crept out of the hole and watched for other police officers. The door was still wide open. He watched as other families were led downstairs with the occasional shove and shout. Then, and just then, an officer fell down the stairs and landed in fronton his door. He quickly grabbed the officer and pulled him in his bathroom. He checked if he was really dead, knowing all the necessary moves since his father was a doctor, and confirmed that he was dead. He then stripped him and put on his clothes. They fit him perfectly, John thanked the Gods that he looked almost identical to the poor soldier, he was in serious luck. He then pulled out the officer's identity card and effectively memorised everything. He was now Guillaume Colas, age 24, police officer.
He marched out of his room as normally as possible, with what he hoped was a disapproving frown. He then searched for Sherlock but found Tivka instead. He would save her, yes, he had to.
"Tivka! Come here!" He said as he approached her, but Tivka ,apparently, did not recognise him and zoomed up the stairs towards the roof.
"Dammit..." He muttered as he followed her. Once on the roof, he looked around for Tivka and saw her looking at him with a frightened look on her face.
"Tivka! Tivka, it's me John! Don't you recognise me?" As he advanced Tivka backed up.
"Tivka... Come on please, Tivka..."
She did not realise it was John, she simply backed away.
"You collect snails and you let me see them remember?" Her eyes finally widened in recognition but it was to late, she realised the the wind was rushing too quickly for her liking and she looking at the sky instead of John.
"TIVKA!"

"Juif" means Jew in French.

"Interdit aux Juifs" means no Jews allowed basically.