Ladies and gentlemen, I present you: Mycroft's Mind Palace! I also have a game for you! Try to guess what part of Mycroft's mind is represented by each person appearing in his head. And tell me in the comments!
Special thanks goe to TheTolkienGirl for helping me figure out few things about Mycroft's Mind Palace!
Diogenes Attic
Sherlock had heard the short conversation between his brother and his mother at three am. It gave him some more things to think about after such a long, eventful day. From the state of things on dinner, he deduced that Daddy already apologized sincerely, but Mummy was postponing her apologies for some reason… Or maybe the tirade from the afternoon was a bitter reminder of Mummy's rant from that fateful day from four (five?) weeks ago. Maybe Mycroft decided to throw an epic temper tantrum for the way he was treated back then; for being called "idiot" and "limited".
Funny, how earlier he was so reluctant to tell their parents about Sherrinford to not hurt their feelings, but he initiated the reveal, after all, with his sudden outburst. Seeing him crying was hard to watch, and he certainly didn't mean to say that he hates Mummy and Daddy. It started like a tantrum of angry child, but it was obviously something more than that. It was a moment when Sherlock's big brother voiced his feelings, not in a sarcastic remarks like last Christmas, but in a honest way. In three sentences he told them what pained him. At that moment Sherlock was proud of him… but also felt an urge to give him a hug.
On the other hand, why didn't Mummy apologize to Mycroft already? Did she feel like she didn't need to? She was talking about something with Anthea. They had only one thing in common, so the number of topics was rather narrow. It was almost given that their conversation covered (at least to some degree) Mycroft's current form. When he, Sherlock and Daddy came back, Mummy looked solemn. And earlier, during the dinner, she had the same look, when she occasionally gazed at the little boy that was now her eldest offspring. Sherlock thought about it, wondering if what he said to her earlier made her realize some things.
Either way, once he woke up the next morning, he came out of his room and knocked to his brother's door to check on him. But when he didn't hear any response for about ten seconds, he came to realization that Mycroft wasn't there. The detective raised his eyebrow and decided to look for brother dear downstairs. There was no Mycroft in the kitchen and in living room. His jacket was also absent, so Sherlock – knowing his older sibling's habits – sighed deeply.
Oh, this will be a sight to see, and part of Sherlock thought it will be hilarious, but the other part – the one, that was reminding him he was supposed to be responsible now – prepared for the incoming battle.
And so Sherlock took his coat off the hook, put it on and entered the garden. And sure, half of his predictions turned out to be true.
Here he was – a five year old boy sitting on the bench, but – to detective's relief – there was no cigarette in his hand (yet). Mycroft was only observing the view in front of him, deep in thought.
"You shouldn't be there." Sherlock said. "You will catch a cold."
Mycroft gazed at his little brother, but didn't say anything. Sherlock took a liberty of sitting next to him. He glanced at the boy once again to make few quick deductions, before he spoke again:
"Don't worry. I'll convince her to apologize."
"Even if you do," Mycroft turned his gaze at him. "I will stay a child forever."
"Ah, the third condition…" Sherlock stated. Mycroft only nodded.
Sherlock spent many hours thinking about possible ways to make Mycroft feel like his burden has been lifted. There was no denying here – his brother's burden was enormous. All those secrets, all this responsibility of Great Britain's safety, all those threats he had to keep an eye on… Not to mention, all the pain he went through and all the emotional baggage he was carrying ever since his teen years. Most of the time, Sherlock felt that there was too much things to handle. Thankfully Lady Smallwood was all for giving Mycroft vacation and lifting at least some of his burden connected with work. And John was trying to reassure the elder Holmes brother that he was in good hands. And Sherlock… Sherlock was doing everything he could. But all of this seemed to not be enough.
"You know, I was thinking…" He started, looking at Mycroft. "Maybe when this whole thing will be over, you should see a therapist." His brother gazed at him with raised eyebrow, so Sherlock added: "You know, to talk about Sherrinford and Eurus."
Mycroft turned his eyes back at the view in front of him.
"It would be a waste of time."
"You went through traumatic experience at young age. You deal with a lot of pressure at work and few weeks ago your own brother was pointing gun at you. Even you can't be okay after all of this."
"And obviously therapy worked wonders for Doctor Watson…" Mycroft chuckled cheerlessly.
"Well, he did start a blog, didn't he?" Sherlock smiled, but then went back to being serious: "You need professional help."
"The last thing I need is to talk with some glorified hippie about my feelings and childhood. They will probably say nothing I don't know already."
"And did you even try?"
"Look, I'm not going on therapy, Sherlock." Mycroft cut in harshly. "I can deal with my demons on my own."
Sherlock looked at him with concern. Yes, he sounded as sure of himself as ever, but the detective knew him too well. He knew Mycroft's mask of a stern politician, always in control; and he knew when his brother was overwhelmed by too much things happening too fast. That was when he smoked; that was when he was starting to act defensive; that was when he was sitting in solitude.
"The thing is," Sherlock began. "you don't need to deal with them on your own." He smiled.
Mycroft sighed.
"For the last time, Sherlock: I'm not lonely."
Sherlock wanted to reply: "Oh, but you are, brother dear…", however, he didn't say anything. He was just sitting next to Mycroft and observing him. He didn't know how long his brother was outside this morning, but it was obvious, he was cold, because he rubbed his hands absent-mindly. He came here for peace and quiet. He wanted to think about all the things that was happening around him. His mind was working the most efficiently, when he was sure nobody will bother him with unnecessary questions… but at the same time he will be provided with snacks and, occasionally, alcohol. He needed Diogenes Club with its soothing atmosphere and people who understood the importance of silence. He even said once that it was where he was visiting his Mind Palace the most.
Sherlock grinned. He got an idea.
"Come on," He stood up and extended his hands towards Mycroft. "I know a better place for you to mope."
"I'm not moping." Mycroft protested.
"Just…" Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Just come with me."
After a short moment of not moving at all, the boy sighed, took Sherlock's hand and stood up. His brother first let him inside the house, then they both took off their outwears and when Sherlock put Mycroft's jacket on the hook, he led him upstairs. They passed their rooms and directed to the ceiling entrance to the attic. Sherlock opened it and soon both brothers found themselves in the place full of boxes, old furniture and dust.
"Okay, Sherlock." Mycroft looked at him. "What are we doing here?"
"One moment, brother mine." The detective raised his finger, before he took a deck chair, unfolded it and turned back to Mycroft. "Voila! Diogenes Attic!"
"Diogenes Attic?" The boy asked, raising his eyebrow.
"A peaceful place for you to meditate. Even if Mummy and Daddy will be their usual selves, they won't disturb you, because barely any sound from downstairs can reach the attic. So sit here, relax and go to your Mind Palace."
"What if Mummy will want something? Or if I will get hungry?"
"I will tell our parents, you can't be disturbed. And I will stay near so if you would need anything, just give me a sign."
Mycroft was watching Sherlock with light confusion, before his face lightened with a small smile.
"Thank you, Sherlock."
Then he sat comfortably in the deck chair, while the detective retreated to the first floor and slowly closed the entrance. Only when Sherlock disappeared, Mycroft closed his eyes, relaxed and entered his Mind Palace.
He was still in the attic, but he was an adult again. And he had company.
His mother was standing at the study that wasn't there before (it certainly belonged to her old cabinet in Musgrave Hall, with all the books and papers scattered around).
"I still can't believe this is happening…" She sighed.
"Ah, but we already established that this is reality," Mycroft replied. "so what else is there to do than find a way to reverse it?"
"Right." Sherlock appeared on his left, sitting on his armchair from Baker Street, wearing his night gown. "You can't stay in that shape for too long… You have work to do, so you need to think about the solution."
"Look," Mrs. Holmes started. "even if Mummy will apologize – which she won't, because Mummies are stubborn – you know that there is still a problem of third condition."
"The third condition…" Mycroft repeated to himself. "My burdens…"
"Yes, your burdens." Sherlock said, but this time it was his younger self and he was holding a small globe. "You have important work to do."
"You will do as we discussed." Lady Smallwood appeared next to Sherlock and she was sitting on her chair in a way revealing authority. "We will keep an eye on the buffoon in the White House and monitor the refuges. And, of course, there is the problem with diplomacy. That one is far more tricky."
Mycroft smiled.
"Yes, it is." He sighed.
"No, no, can't you see, honey?" Mummy cut in. "You can't think about it. The more you think about your work, the more stressed you are. And we can't have that."
"But you can't wait, am I right, sir?" Anthea kneeled at his deck chair and grinned to him sympathetically. "You already miss your desk. Sure, the work is hard and sometimes frustrating, but you like it. You're always feeling like you're a right man in the right place."
"Well, sometimes I am." Mycroft replied, still smiling.
"We should check on Putin." Lady Smallwood added. "You can't be too careful with Putin."
"Oh, definitely." Mycroft nodded. "And Saudi Arabia…"
"Stop it!" Mummy hit her study, turning everyone's attention on herself. "Focus on the task at hand! What have I told you about politics in this house?"
"You didn't come up with the 'no politics' rule. It was the real Mummy's idea." Mycroft pointed out.
"Either way, focus!" Violet Holmes came around, so her study wouldn't separate her from son. "What did cherub said?"
Mycroft moved his eyes on Herbert, who stood right in front of him. The cherub repeated:
"Mycroft Holmes deserves a break. He deserves to be released from his responsibilities once in a while. So I figured out that the best way to go with it will be turning him into a carefree child…"
"Everyone keep saying that I'm a child…" Mycroft started.
"You are a child." The cherub repeated. "Therefore Great Britain isn't your responsibility. Neither is the safety of your siblings, nor the happiness of your parents…" And with that he disappeared.
"But it IS your responsibility." A grown up again Sherlock pointed out. "Only you can keep them safe…"
"Oh, and he did such a good job, didn't he?" A mocking voice came from behind.
Mycroft slowly turned back. There she was, in her hospital gown, with long hair and smile that was always creeping him out. Suddenly the attic drowned in red light and for a moment he was standing in that cell in Sherrinford.
"No!" He protested. "Get out of my head, Eurus!"
"You think, you can rid off of me that easily, big brother?" She asked, taking two steps forward. "Don't kid yourself, I'm always in your head."
"You won't torment me!" He screamed and for a moment he felt like a thirteen year old boy again. "I won't let you torment me ever again!"
"Oh, what's that?" She took another two steps. "You're going to cry?"
"Focus!" Mummy yelled, hitting the study again, this time louder. "You idiot boy, focus!"
He was back in the attic with everyone, but Eurus remained.
"Now," Mrs. Holmes calmed down. "it's obvious you can't think about work."
"Good, I can do that." Mycroft replied. "I won't be watching news."
"That's not enough." A new voice spoke.
Mycroft rolled his eyes with annoyance and turned them on his father, who was standing next to Mummy, leaning on her study and smiling to his son warmly. After moment of silence he added:
"You need to get lost in the moment, son."
"Great, I only needed YOU here." He growled.
"You may resent me, but it doesn't change the fact that I'm as much part of you as she." Still smiling, Siger Holmes pointed Mummy with his eyes. "You even let me lead once or twice."
"Yes, and it ended with a disaster." Mycroft argued. "Every time."
"Oh, come on," Daddy went on. "without me you would go insane."
"I doubt that." Mycroft snarled.
"You know, there is this song…" Mr. Holmes put his finger up and suddenly a music started to play from somewhere in the air:
All you need is love,
all you need is love,
all you need is love, love.
Love is all you need.
"Get this stupid song out of my head!" Mycroft barked and even covered his ears.
Daddy's smile weakened. He straightened himself and walked to his son, before he kneeled in front of him and with sad expression, said:
"You are not alone. You have people who care about you…"
"Oh, please!" Eurus sneered. "Mummy called him an idiot! And Sherlock wanted to shoot him!"
"Sherlock cares." Siger replied and looked at Mycroft. "Don't you remember how safe you've felt when Sherlock carried you to bed? Or how nice it was that he bought you a chocolate cake? He promised to turn you back to normal. I don't know how about you, but I think that the first condition has been already met." He touched Mycroft's cheek. "Alicia respects you, Anthea checks on you… And your parents… Your father admitted that he was scared about you…"
"But Mummy doesn't care!" Eurus cut in, still mocking. "He's a disappointment and an idiot. He couldn't even save stupid kid from drowning!"
"Shut up!" Mycroft screamed at her, teenager again.
"And the overdoses…" Sherlock added. "How many brother dear had already? Three? There shouldn't even be one…"
"Don't take her side!" Mycroft yelled at him.
"All you need is love." Siger sung out of nowhere.
Suddenly there was too much noise. Everyone started to talk at once.
"And Korea… We definitely need to keep an eye on Korea…"
"Poor, baby Mycroft… You would be better off dead…"
"Brother mine, Mummy and Daddy said you need to look after me…"
"All you need is love…"
"What do we do with the file on Mummy, sir?"
"Your failures are of truly epic proportions, big brother…"
"All you need is loooove…"
"Ignore them!" Mummy called.
"Trump, Brexit, terrorist cells…"
"Focus, honey!" Violet shouted. "Ignore the noise!"
"I'm trying!" Mycroft replied, covering his ears.
"Focus!"
Yes, he had to focus. He had to get rid off of the unnecessary thoughts and focus on the important things. And so Mycroft took a deep breath and raised his hand. Next he pointed it at Eurus.
"The real Eurus isn't here. I left her on Sherrinford. Be gone." He waved his hand and his sister disappeared. Next he turned to his brother. "The real Sherlock is downstairs and keeps anyone from disturbing me." One wave, no Sherlock. Mycroft turned to Lady Smallwood. "I appreciate your presence, but the real Alicia is in her cabinet." One wave and she was gone too. "Anthea, we see each other in about week." He said with a smile and waved at the girl.
Now there was only him and his parents. He pointed his hand at Siger but didn't wave it. For some strange reason he was hesitant.
"What are you waiting for?" Mummy called to him. "Hurry up, we have things to discuss!"
But Mycroft was staring at his father, who smiled to him warmly. The warmth was tempting… so tempting to get lost in it… The warmth was honey in tea, it was Mummy's pie, it was the way Sherlock teased him. It was the thing Mycroft loved and hated the most at the same time. The greatest obstacle and the sweetest escape…
"You can't let him talk." Mummy said. "You need a cool head."
Mycroft looked at Daddy again and after a short moment finally waved his hand… banishing his mother from his head. Still looking at Siger, he spoke:
"This better be good."
His father's smile grew even wider.
"Love is all you need." He whispered.
"You know, in spite of popular opinion, you can't fix everything with love." Mycroft said.
"But it certainly helps at times." Siger replied, still smiling.
Mycroft shook his head and opened his eyes…
