Sherlock was crying. He was sitting on the sofa in the Watson's living room, his legs too short to touch the ground. His dark hair seemed deflated, the curls flattened. His usually keen, grey eyes were swollen and red rimmed. He was alone. Mycroft had deserted him. It hurt so badly inside, his chest crawling with guilt and horror and despair. It had been his fault. That was what father had shouted at him, when the Watson's called him. Father had yelled at him, calling him names, and Kevin didn't manage to stop him before he smacked the small boy around the face, knocking him down. He had cried a lot the last two days. Lizzie came into the room, trying to look less miserable than she felt.

"Would you like to visit him today?" She asked.

"Yes" Sherlock murmured. He stood up, going to his foster mother. She put an arm around him, and he leaned his head on her chest. They had bonded over the last few days when Mycroft had been in hospital. Sherlock had had to donate blood. There wasn't anyone his blood type in their banks. They got into the car and drove in silence to the hospital, Lizzie reaching over occasionally to touch Sherlock's knee.

"Remember, Mycroft isn't very well. He's still a bit sad, and he might not want to talk to us. If he doesn't, we'll have to leave. It needs to be his choice."

"Okay. Why did he do it?"

"I don't know. Your brother was very sad, Sherlock. A lot of bad things happened to him, things he protected you from."

"But we're not with Daddy anymore. He didn't need to be sad any more"

"I know it seems like that, but it's more complicated. People are very complicated things, Sherlock. We can't solve them."

"I don't like people."

"What makes you say that?"

"They're unexpected. And they do bad things. And they're noisy."

"I know. Keep trying, you'll get the hang of it" Lizzie laughed as they pulled into the hospital car park. Sherlock got out of the car and walked towards the hospital, his hands in his coat pockets, his long, multicoloured scarf dangling around his neck. They knocked on the door to Mycroft's room, and he called to let them inside. Sherlock stepped forward carefully, biting his lip.

"It's okay Sherlock. Nothing bad's going to happen."

"Are you all better now, Croft?"

"Yeah Lock, all better." Mycroft croaked

"Why did you do it?"

"Because... because it hurts too bad, Lock. You don't know, you never had to do any of it. I hope you never have to. Father hurt me, Lock, in ways I hope you can never imagine. And I couldn't stand it any longer."

"You were going to leave me" Sherlock said, accusingly.

"You would have been fine. The Watson's would have looked after you, right Lizzie?"

"Of course we would have. But let's not talk about this any more, okay? Mycroft, I'm going to take Sherlock to the play room, and then I'll be back, okay?"

"Yeah" he muttered. He knew what was coming. Lizzie and Sherlock left the room, and Mycroft turned over. He was going to be in so much trouble. He'd told them that the only way to punish him was to hurt him. She would use that against him. At least she wasn't as strong as his father. It wouldn't hurt as bad. He shook slightly, dreading his inevitable return to pain. When Lizzie came back in, he flinched away from her.

"Mycroft? Are you all right?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you mad. I didn't mean to not die." His eyes were tight shut, his hands shaking violently, gripping the covers for support.

"Mycroft, I'm not going to hurt you." She said softly, gently stroking his hair. He flinched away, but she kept running her fingers through. "You have nothing to be sorry for"

"I'm sorry."

"Mycroft. Mycroft, don't worry, no one's ever going to hurt you again, I promise."

"But... but..." he rolled over and looked her over, his eyes wide with fear and dread of more pain "I did bad things, Lizzie, really bad things."

"You haven't done anything wrong, Mycroft. Don't worry. You just concentrate on getting better, and we'll take it from there, okay? You just go back to sleep." she stroked his hair for ages, until she felt his gentle breathing slow down and turn into tiny snores. She leant over and kissed the top of his head. It was time to go home.