A/N: Ok so this chapter is more about Mycroft and Sherlock than Johnlock, but I hope you enjoy! Don't forget to review, favorite, and follow!
Another day has passed. John is sleeping and Sherlock is slumped over in an uncomfortable plastic chair trying to stay awake. Just as Sherlock is about to drift off, the door bursts open. In walk Mycroft and Lestrade, hand in hand. Sherlock feels something breaking inside of him. "No! You don't get to show off your affection when the love of my life might die! Go away!" The detective has never hated his brother more than now. Mycroft's face twists angrily and he shoos a shocked Greg out.
"Do not insult my boyfriend." His voice is dripping poison. Sherlock is too full of rage to be afraid.
"You were too busy making out with your precious Lestrade to come see me?"
"I came as soon as I could."
"John got shot a week ago! That is absolutely not as soon as you could. You abandoned me, Mycroft. Just like you always have." Mycroft is silent for a long time, tears trickling down his face.
"You didn't used to hate me. I used to be your best friend."
"You were never my friend."
"You…you deleted it? HOW COULD YOU DELETE ME? YOU COMPLETE AND UTTER BASTARD!"
"Of course I deleted it. You abandoned me for boarding school. To a small child, that is traumatic."
"It's not fucking traumatic!" Sherlock is shocked. Mycroft never swears. "You are no brother of mine. I was happy on my own. I never wanted a burdensome little brother who always fucks up his life." Sherlock is truly hurt by this and starts sobbing. Suddenly, a wall in his mind palace his knocked down and a flood of memories invade his brain. Mycroft playing pirates with him, Mycroft helping him with homework, Mycroft making fun of people with him, Mycroft rushing him to the hospital when he overdosed.
"I…I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry." He blubbers. Mycroft wraps his arms around Sherlock.
"Do you remember now?" He whispers softly. Sherlock nods into his brother's shoulder. They pull apart. "Are you going to be okay?"
"Yes." He wants to apologize but all that comes out is "Tell Greg you love him. I never did, and I may not ever get the chance. Please." Mycroft is pleasantly appalled at this. Sherlock never remembers Greg's name. Not to mention he appears incapable of feelings, but we all know that's not true.
"I will." Mycroft turns on his heels and exits the room. I should take my own advice, Sherlock thinks. So he does. He take off his shoes and lays down next to John. As he falls asleep, the detective feels his blogger's arm pull him closer.
