Rise and Fall

by Astra H. Lowelle

Even the ever-cool Sherlock Holmes can lose his cool. To be fair, he was seven at the time. For lack of any other options, Mycroft was forced to take care of his brother.

3. Chapter 3

Mycroft carefully lifted his brother out of the bed, grabbed the heavy blanket and pillow that Sherlock had been lying on, and walked out of the room. Sherlock dropped his head weakly onto Mycroft's shoulder, his forehead burning against his brother's neck.

"Mycroft?"

"Yes?"

"Where are you taking me?"

The voice was so small, so trustingly innocent. Mycroft couldn't remember the last time his normally imperious little brother had sounded like this.

"We're going back to my study. There's a couch there. I want to keep an eye on you."

"Not to the doctor?"

"No, Sherlock, not to the doctor."

"Am I going to die?"

Mycroft, his hand on the doorknob to the door of his study, froze.

"What makes you ask that?"

"Great-Uncle William died," Sherlock whispered. His arms tightened around Mycroft's neck. "I don't want to die. Am I going to die, like Great-Uncle William?"

"Great-Uncle William died because he was old," Mycroft answered curtly. "You aren't going to die because of a fever."