CHAPTER 13. VINDICATED
Mycroft moved faster than he thought his age would allow, but this was his dream, if Sherlock was eight years old than he was a teenager. The Government man didn't make it to the garden instead he was in a hospital, the nurse talking to someone next to him, her words started to register. The lights dimmer here, but the smell of disinfectant and bleach made his eyes water.
"Just a bit of a concussion, you'll need to keep him awake." The nurse was talking to the nanny who had a frown on her face, she knew she would be fired over this. Mycroft couldn't even remember the women's name, he barely remembered any of Sherlock's nanny's, the younger Holmes ran through them so quickly.
"You can't leave Harry! Not yet. You have to go-"
"Johnny don't worry about me. And I'm not going to some dammed rehab. Where they'll have me sit in a circle and bare my soul. Tell them my daddy never loved me and my mummy is dead. Besides, I'm not addicted to anything." The young female voice sounded breathless and hurried.
Mycroft followed the direction of these voices across from his brothers room. He started towards the open door. He could see the 13 year old John Watson standing with his back to Mycroft, Mycroft wondered why he was curious, how did he know that John's sister had several incidents of alcohol poising. This being her first, and a young John Watson pleading with her to go to reahab, reminded him of how mummy pleaded with Sherlock.
"Johnny! Worry about yourself. You shouldn't stay here, you know they've called him-" John shook his head, and he turned seeing Mycroft, before Mycroft could say anything a taller man pushed past him.
John took a step in front of his sister, the older Holmes brother observed curiously. The girl couldn't be much older than 17 at this point, she'd been lacing up her trainers, and Mycroft understood who they'd both hoped to avoid.
"You, you little slut!"
"Piss off! I don't have to listen to you!"
John caught Mycroft's expression the blond boy moved quickly to the door, blocking Mycroft's view of a young girl sitting on a hospital bed and her very angry father. John stepped in front of Mycroft, forcing him to take a couple steps back, slamming the door behind him, glaring up at the taller man.
"You really shouldn't snoop Mycroft. This isn't your business. Some things should not be in a file, and instead should be left unsaid. This is personal information." Mycroft could hear yelling, unable to make out the words, John clasped his eyes shut. Keeping himself between the door and the taller boy.
"Aren't you going to go in there?" John gestured with his head towards the room across the hall.
"You shouldn't leave her in there alone. She wont go to rehab."
"I am in there. And she will just not this time, she'll go. You already know that." The younger John straightens his shoulder, his wide brown eyes find Mycroft's icy gray.
"Johnny!" John winced hearing his name.
"Why are you even thinking of this? You know I would be angry if I knew you had this information." He heard crashes in the room, "I have to go. So do you."
Mycroft almost wanted to pull him away from the door, that compulsion confused him, "You cant change the past Mycroft."
Mycroft went to grab the shorter boy's shoulder to block the entrance but to late the blond boy disappeared behind the rooms door. He moved away from the muffled sounds, the yelling and the crashing and thuds of objects or maybe a young boy being thrown against a wall.
He retreated into his brother's room, closing the door behind him, he neared the bed expecting to see his younger brother with a cast on his small arm and his head bandaged. Instead he found a teenage Sherlock sitting up.
"Piss off Mycroft! I'm not going."
"You haven't been checked out, you need to get back into bed young man before you injure yourself." The nurse huffed looking pleadingly towards Mycroft.
"He's not my father-just my older brother. And I won't stay here." He moved to pull the IV out of his arm.
"I wouldn't do that." Mycroft recognized the voice, it was less weathered, and the face he turned to meet was youthful, sure this young man had seen some hard times but he had yet experienced the chaos of war. "I'll take care of this nurse."
"Mr. Holmes." John smiled.
"You, you're just a med student."
"And you are just a spoiled brat. I suggest you get back into bed and leave your IV in." Sherlock glared at the blond young man.
"I'm not going to rehab."
"You don't have a choice." John looked over the younger dark haired teens chart.
"Right, we know." John rolled his eyes, he turned to Mycroft shaking his head.
"Why am I here?" Sherlock growled.
"Because you twit! You over dosed! What do you expect when taking a potent drug and shoveing it into your veins?" John tossed the chart at the teen.
"The question I'd like answered is why I'm here?" He started to pull off his white coat. Mycroft could see the army fatigues now under them, and still fresh-faced private Watson looked at the two frowning.
"Don't you have a war to go to?" Sherlock's voice was deeper and Mycroft could see his brother wasn't the same teenager, just a bit older.
"I guess you're right. Catch you in a few years."
"Whatever." Sherlock growled.
"Well Mycroft, don't just stand there, get me out of here."
"Sherlock you need help."
"Oh great are you really going to send me back to rehab, isn't four times enough. Everyone there is an idiot-"
"And I suppose nearly killing yourself makes you a genius."
"It was a miscalculation." Sherlock growled.
"A miscalculation?" Mycroft felt like shaking his brother. "You almost died! A miss calculation is getting a chemistry equation wrong and causing an explosion that burns off your eyebrows! This, this almost killed you, again! Not to mention dear brother what the stress does to Mummy."
"I need a cigarette."
Sherlock grumbled pushing past his brother, leaving Mycroft in the empty hospital room.
Irritably Mycroft decided to follow his brother outside, he wouldn't be treated this way again, especially by a hallucination of his petulant little brother.
Instead of finding himself outside the hospital he was standing in his family home staring out the same window as before, but the stars shown brightly instead of a sun, and the gray stone of the garden wall was covered now by IVY.
"This is your! Fault!" Sherlock's baritone voice growled. And Mycroft without turning knew this act, he'd played it over and over in his head some sleepless nights. So he was doomed to repeat the same lines and he did, not feeling as passionately as he had the first time around, he turned to face his brother, putting the memories of the garden behind him.
"Don't look at me that way I know you planed this! This was it the whole time, to force my hand! People could have been hurt!"
"What do you know of hurt? This maniac threatens more than just a handful of acquaintances we both know it. You cant keep hiding away feigning ignorance brother. And despite what you think I had no intention for this to happen."
"You rarely do anything without a reason! Your every word and move is calculated before you act. You pushed me into play."
"For what it's worth I didn't mean for any of this to happen, not like this."
"I find that hard to believe. It is of no great concern now. Here I am, I'll do this for you. I will track them down each and every one of them that had a hand in this, that are linked to Moriarty's web. And after, I will return and you will not come to me for any kind of help. Foreign or domestic! This only works as long as they are kept safe, I could care less about those you care about, seeing how you have no concern for those I do."
"Sherlock-" a tired plea.
"Just say you will do this. You owe me this much. I want your word that Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, Molly and John are out of harms way, that they are kept safe." a simple but complicated demand.
"Yes. I can do this. They must never know that you are alive. And you do understand, you can not contact them until this business is cleared."
"I understand that more than you could know. This is what I want from you, I want you to clear Lestrade's name. He doesn't deserve this backlash, this mark on his career. Mrs. Hudson will need checking up on, and of course to be suplmented for the income lost over my leaving. Molly is trustworthy I will not have you or your goons harassing her. And John." Sherlock ran a hand through his hair, he stopped pacing.
"Yes, Sherlock I am capable of watching over a handful of civilians."
"Are you? Are you brother? "
"Sherlock-"
"No, understand this. They are not chess pieces, they are not! They were put into play because of the choices you-" the fight suddenly leaving him Sherlock slumped down into the uncomfortable chair in front of Mycroft's antique desk. "and I have made. And I can not do this if I am not certain they are safe. He is my friend Mycroft. You couldn't understand this." It wasn't cruelly said, Mycroft noted, it was a statement a fact. "But he is the one person that understands me. One you didn't have to bribe , blackmail or threaten."
Mycroft poured a drink for his brother and the two sat silently staring into the flames dancing in the fireplace. Mycroft wanted to say more, but he closed his eyes against the heat of the flames, knowing that this timeline of events was nearing a crescendo. Upon opening his eyes he found himself feeling more weary than ever, how exhausting sentiment could be. Exactly why he chose to lock it away in the deep cells of his own mind. Squinting against the brightness of the mid noon day he scanned the streets looking for his brother.
Slowly registering that he was standing outside St. Barts hospital and Sherlock was nowhere to be seen. He did find a troubled John Watson squinting up at the bright sky. No, not the sky, John was frozen now holding a phone to his ear. Yes, Mycroft finally decided, this is a nightmare, a dream would bring some kind of comfort but this-this was a slide show of past mistakes and misjudgments. Frame by frame his most haunting memories and thoughts-