When the ambulance arrived, Sherlock was unconscious. The doctor came forward asking questions of the paramedics who told him that his heartbeat had been irregular and he was bleeding. They wheeled him into the surgery where he stayed for almost five hours.

John Watson called an hour into the operation, and Mycroft sent a car to get him. He couldn't imagine why it had taken him so long to call but he had no time for him now. He had Sherlock's operation on one screen while he handled other business on the phone. A military operation was going on in Eastern Europe that demanded his direct supervision. He had taken over a secure boardroom as his impromptu office. He wasn't leaving the hospital until he saw with his own eyes that Sherlock was all right. Even now, his men were doing a security screen on the hospital staff. They were all ex-military, so it was quicker. He would have no more escapes, no more threats to his brother's life.

The surgeons were successful in stopping the bleeding. When they closed up the chest cavity, Mycroft let out a sigh of relief. Sherlock was wheeled into a secure recovery room, and Mycroft sat beside him listening to the steady beat of his heart. He sat back in his chair, letting the reassuring sound calm him. Then he closed his eyes.

He had been only a child when he had pushed open the door to find Sherlock clutching his stuffed dog toy to his chest. Why Mother had thought it funny to name her son's toy after a nuclear weapon, he would never guess.

Mycroft sat down at Sherlock's side. His face was turned away as he tried to hide his tears.

"What's wrong, Billy?" Mycroft asked.

"Ronnie left."

"Ronnie who?"

"Ronnie from school. He promised to play pirates with me, and I waited all weekend but then he didn't come back yesterday, and today the teacher said that he wasn't ever coming back. He was my friend, but he didn't come back."

Mycroft lowered his voice. "Ronnie won't be coming back. He's dead."

"Dead?"

"Yes, mother didn't want us to know, but I heard them talking. Someone kidnapped him to get information from another scientist in mother's lab. When he refused to tell them, they killed Ronnie."

"Why?"

"I don't think they meant to kill him, just to hurt him, but it went wrong."

"But if it was Ronnie's dad who had the information, why did they take Ronnie?"

"Because Ronnie's father cared about his son. They felt that he'd care more about getting his son back than the information."

"I care! I wanted Ronnie to play with me."

"I know. Billy, things will likely change for us from now on. Mother is being sent to a more secure base, and we will be going with her. It is very likely that there won't be any other children there."

"Then who will I play pirates with?"

"I will play with you."

"You won't!" Sherlock said sticking his lip out as he turned away. "You won't play with me. You think that playing games is stupid!"

"I don't."

"Yes you do! I won't go. I'll run away, and find people who will play with me."

"Don't be a Silly Billy"

"Stop calling me that! I don't like it. And I'll run away if I want to. I know how to get past teacher. It's easy."

"But Billy, that isn't logical. If you run away then maybe they will kidnap you!"

"I don't care. I want someone to play with."

"I'll play with you."

"No you won't. You'll find something else to do, and you'll tell me to go away. I will go away. I'll go where people will play with me."

"No, Billy don't try to leave. I promise that I will play with you, whenever you want to, whatever you want. I will play with you, I promise, just don't leave me! I mean... don't leave us."

Billy turned to face him. "Do you mean that, Mycroft? You'll really play with me, whenever I want, whatever I want?"

"Unless something life and death takes precedence, I will take time to play with you, whatever game you want."

"Then, let's play pirates!"

"Alright," Mycroft said, and Sherlock rose to his feet a crooked smile forming on his lips. He picked up his hat and placed it on his head, then he grabbed his toy swords and handed one to Mycroft. He placed the stuffed dog on the table and said, "Redbeard is Redbeard the pirate, of course, and you are the evil captain Mycroft of the Spanish Navy."

Mycroft stood on his knees and waved the sword vigorously, "Okay. Who are you then?"

"I'm Sherlock the pirate."

"Sherlock?"

"It is my name isn't it?"

"Of course, but."

"And I don't like you calling me Silly Billy. I want to be called Sherlock the pirate from now on."

"But Billy..."

"Sherlock!."

"All right, Sherlock the pirate. Even though I've agreed to play with you. I won't let you take my hoard of Spanish doubloons."

The child smiled wide and jumped onto his bed bouncing and waving his sword as he cried. "Oh yes I will! I will ram your hull and hang ye from the mast. I will slice ye up to feed the fishes! Defend yourself you lily-livered coward!"

John was sitting by Sherlock's side when Mycroft finally woke. He was strangely deflated, curled in his chair as if it was he who had been shot.

"John? What's wrong?"

"It was Mary. Mary shot Sherlock. She's an assassin. She's been lying to us all this time, since I met her. "

"But why? Why would she shoot Sherlock? He wasn't her target."

John lifted his head and turned toward Mycroft. "What do you mean 'he wasn't her target'? Did you know that Mary was an assassin?"

"I just meant, why was she there with Magnussen?"

"No, you said that he wasn't her target. You know what she is. You've always known."

"John."

"Did you know who she was when you let me get engaged to her? Did you fail to tell your own brother that his best friend was marrying an assassin? Did you send her to kill him?"

"No! How can you think that. Sherlock is my brother!"

"And what does that word mean to you?"

"It means that I will always protect him."

"You didn't protect him from Moriarty. You told Moriarty what he needed to destroy your brother what kind of protection was that? And Mary, maybe you don't care about me. Shit thing to let me walk into, but your own brother! You let him walk into that room blind. Your own brother."

"I told him to stay away from Magnussen. How could I know…?"

"If you don't get out of this room this instant, I swear, I will kill you with my bare hands."

Mycroft glared down at John who smiled up at him. He weighted his odds, then he turned and left the room.

The guard stood to attention as he left.

"Give Dr Watson whatever he needs, but don't let anyone else into that room until you've heard from me first."

"Yes sir."

Mycroft entered his car and headed for his office.

Sherlock hadn't woken yet, but he could remember when he had looked at him with eyes like John's. Eyes full of hate a betrayal.

"I know about Redbeard," he'd said just as Mycroft had entered the door. Sherlock was strapped down after another drug binge had almost cost him his life, and his eyes had bored into Mycroft's flesh like a hot poker.

"Which Redbeard?"

"You know which one."

"You're not a child anymore."

"No, I'm not a child. And neither were you when you had him killed."

"Put to sleep. He was ill."

"He wasn't ill. Victor's half sister worked in the clinic where it happened. She heard them remark upon it. The illness wasn't fatal, but they put the dog to sleep anyway. Mother wouldn't have done it, much less father, so it had to be you who convinced them to kill Redbeard."

"And why would I do that, Sherlock?"

"You always wanted me to be like you, didn't you? All my life you've shaped me, taught me, dictated my feelings to me to the point that sometimes I don't know where your thoughts end and mine begin. I am your toy, your creation. You put me together from scraps like Frankenstein's monster. I loved Redbeard, and you couldn't allow that. Love is a weakness. You couldn't stand that my heart wasn't as cold and twisted as yours, so you had him killed."

"Sherlock, you're delirious?"

"Am I? I think that I'm finally seeing the truth. All of those people who might have become my friends, moving away. Once is normal, twice can be coincidence, but how many times has it been now, Mycroft? Was it all you? Were you the one who made Victor leave me?"

"His father was the one who made Victor chose between his inheritance and you. He had divorced one wife for not giving him an heir. He wouldn't tolerate that heir carrying on with a man. Where would his precious family name be then?"

"There was no 'carrying on'. He was my friend...We were best friends."

"The fact that he chose money and position over your 'friendship' should tell you that he was undeserving of your affections."

"Who are you to determine who my friends are?"

"Sherlock. You are just trying to distract me from the fact that you have yet again put your life in danger. Mother..."

"Please don't try to pretend Mother had anything to do with this. Let us talk honestly for once, Mycroft. Did you give the order that my dog, Redbeard be put down?"

Mycroft looked down at his feet and clutched his hand before answering, "Yes."

Sherlock blinked his eyes. "Why?"

Mycroft looked down at his hands. Then he looked up into Sherlock's bright blue-green eyes. "All that I do, All that I have ever done, I did it because I love you, brother mine."

"Liar!" Sherlock screamed. You wouldn't know love if it bit you on the arse. You killed my dog for love? Love of whom? The only person you love is yourself, your pride, your ego? You think yourself above everyone in the world, including me, but because I'm your brother. It isn't enough for me to be normal like the rest of them. I have to be special. Something other than ordinary. The brother of Mycroft Holmes can be no less than a genius, and since the only person you consider worth aspiring to is yourself, you tried to make me into you. Well I'm not you! Mycroft. I'll never be you! And I'm tired of being your lab rat. I won't let you keep experimenting with my life!"

"I'm not. Sherlock, I don't want you to be anything other than what you are."

"Do you even hear the things that come out of your mouth? Of course you want me to be different. You don't want me to take drugs, you don't want me to have friends. You don't want me to interact with anyone. Well you've won, because I don't want to interact with anyone anymore, Mycroft, especially not you!"

"But Sherlock..."

The door is behind you, brother mine. Don't let it hit you on the way out."

Mycroft stared into eyes sharp with hate and anger. He laid a hand on Sherlock's arm, but he flinched in his restraints. Mycroft lifted his hand.

"You're wrong."
"GO!"

Mycroft stepped back, but when he didn't go, Sherlock closed his eyes and feigned sleep. A glance at the monitor told Mycroft that his heart rate was racing. When the door opened, a concerned nurse coming to check on the patient, he had turned and fled.

"You are wrong, brother, so wrong. I only ever wanted to keep you safe.