When Greg left the hospital a black car waited for him. He got in and as expected found Mycroft waiting for him.
"Everything okay?" Mycroft asked.
"Don't you monitor your brother's room?" Greg asked mockingly.
"Contrary to his belief I don't." Mycroft answered.
Greg nodded. "He is okay." After a moment of silence he added. "He thought I would reject him."
Mycroft said nothing, just pressed his lips together.
"He said most people rejected him."
Mycroft nodded with a sigh.
"Including his family." Greg said, hoping the other man would see the statement as a question.
"I am afraid so. Not our parents, not openly at least. Our father was very shocked when the mark didn't develop. Our mother mostly worried."
"And your grandfather, the one called William?"
Greg didn't miss the strange face Mycroft made, something between disgust and sadness.
"Our grandfather thought of Sherlock as a disgrace for our family and he didn't miss an opportunity to tell him that. He treated him very badly."
"Physical abuse?" Greg asked, hoping that the answer would be no.
"Yes." Mycroft nodded. "But he was clever, he always made sure to be careful, to keep it in a way that nobody would notice. And if Sherlock had any bruises or welts he always had a plausible explanation. Sherlock was a very active and curious child and he never told anybody. My parents never realized what happened."
"But you did?" Greg inquired.
"At the beginning. No. Towards me my grandfather was a perfect caring person, encouraging, helpful. I would have never ever suspected anything. Yes, I noticed that he treated us differently, but I just thought he was annoyed by Sherlock's never ending questions and his hyperactive energy. It was only when Sherlock was ten and I was seventeen. My parents were abroad. I wasn't supposed to be at home either as I attended some special summer courses in Cambridge, but they ended earlier due to the illness of the teacher. So I came home a week earlier. I heard my grandfather was yelling at Sherlock in the study." Mycroft paused for a moment his eyes closed. "And then I made the biggest mistake of my life, one Sherlock never forgave me, right so. I never forgave myself." He took a deep breath. "I didn't step in. I didn't stop my grandfather."
"What did he do?" Greg asked. He wasn't sure he really wanted to know.
"He made Sherlock kneel in front of the desk, hitting his hands with a cane." Mycroft said.
"And you watched?" Greg asked shocked.
"I asked him what Sherlock had done to deserve that kind of punishment. I thought Sherlock must have done something terrible to make my grandfather so angry. But he just answered that a broken one is a disgrace that Sherlock need to be shown his place in society that he needs to get used to pain."
Greg shuddered at the thought of a ten year old Sherlock being treated like that.
"I asked my grandfather to stop, said something about old times and equal rights. But he didn't stop. He wanted me to stay and watch. He started hitting Sherlock again. Sherlock didn't even flinch or made a single sound. I should have stepped in, but I didn't. I just watched." Mycroft sighed.
Silence stretched between the two men. Mycroft had his eyes on the floor.
"When we were both finally dismissed, I wanted to tend his injuries. I brought him some ice, but he just looked at me and said that there was not need to help him now and that he has enough experience to know who to deal with this. He never let me close to him again. He never trusted me again. It was only after the incident at the pool with Moriarty that he came to me and asked for help."
"Didn't you tell your parents?" Greg asked.
"I wanted to tell them, but Sherlock asked me not to. And since I failed him so fundamentally before, I agreed."
"So he was abused for years?" Greg asked, shocked by what he just heard.
"I guess so. We never talked about it. He never answered when I asked. My grandfather died when Sherlock was sixteen. He instantly dropped the name William."
After another long pause Greg sighed. "Well, that explains a lot."
"He was rejected by too many people. Our parents, well mostly our mother tried to comfort him, but in the end they didn't understand. My mother bought the silver band he wears. Well, not that one he wears now. The first one was torn apart by some of his fellow pupils at the boarding school. I can't estimate how much he was bullied at school, but it must have been a lot as he asked our parents to change school, but as my grandfather was paying for the school he wasn't allowed to go to a different school." Mycroft explained.
"So in short. He was bullied at school, abused by his own grandfather and rejected all his life." Greg summarized.
Mycroft just nodded while Greg held his head down and ruffled through his short hair.
"Well, that will change." Greg said with determination.
"It changed already with you and John in his life." Mycroft said with a small smile.
The next day Greg had to work but he definitely wanted to visit Sherlock again. It was late evening when he entered the hospital but fortunately Mycroft had made sure that he wasn't bound to the visiting hours. When he entered Sherlock's room he noticed that the lights were already turned down. Only a dim light behind the bed gave the room a soft yellow glow. Sherlock was still attached to a heart monitor and an IV line but they had removed the chest tube so he was able to move a little bit more. He was sleeping when Greg entered the room and so he carefully sat down on a chair beside the bed. And he equally careful placed his hand on Sherlock's hand. Sherlock's mark was covered with the silver band again to make sure that no accidental touches could occur. Greg was thankful for that. He really didn't want to cause his soulmate more pain. Without thinking about it Greg started to draw small circles with his thumb on the back of Sherlock's hand. He didn't notice that Sherlock woke up.
"What are you doing here?" Sherlock asked with a sleepy voice.
"Watching you sleep." Greg answered with a smile.
"I am awake." Sherlock said plainly.
"Yeah, I noticed. Change of plan then. Watching you awake." Greg said, still smiling.
Sherlock watched him with an intense gaze.
"What has he told you?" Sherlock asked after awhile.
"How did you deduce that? Well, never mind. Yes, Mycroft told me something, but he only answered my questions. About your grandfather."
Sherlock crunched his face.
"I wanted to know why you didn't use the name William."
Sherlock nodded. "You could have asked me directly."
"Would you have told me?" Greg asked curiously
Sherlock hesitated. "Yes." After a pause he added. "Maybe." Sherlock really didn't want to talk about it, but if Greg would ask he would answer. But Greg didn't ask. He just continued to softly stroke the back of Sherlock's hand, until he noticed that Sherlock watched him do it.
"Sorry." Greg stuttered.
"No, it is okay." Sherlock replied hastily, wondering at the same time why he felt this urge to feel Greg, to be close to him. He usually hated to be touched, but with Greg it was different. This whole soulmate thing was very confusing.
"Why didn't you want Mycroft to tell your parents about how your grandfather treated you?" Greg's question stopped Sherlock's musing.
Sherlock sighed and was thinking about how to answer that question.
"If you don't want to you don't have to talk about it." Greg added hastily.
"No. it is fine. My parents kind of knew that my grandfather punished me physically for things I did wrong. With that my parents, well at least my father, didn't really disagree. He was raised that way too. And I wasn't an easy child." Sherlock said with a shrug.
"I cannot image that you could have done anything that would justify that kind of treatment. And if I got Mycroft right, your grandfather hit you not as a punishment for something you did but rather for who you are." Greg said barely hiding his anger.
Sherlock couldn't help but smile about Greg's consternation.
"I guess so. The point is that I didn't want to find out if my parents agreed with him on that."
Greg had to process what he had just heard. "You weren't sure?"
"Not really. My guess was 50:50, at least for my father, maybe 60:40 for my mother. So I made a decision. I'd rather lived with the imagination that they disagreed than with the possibility that they might agree."
Greg was shocked. He thought that after he had heard the story from Mycroft that it couldn't get worse, but he was just proven wrong. He remembered his own parents and his carefree childhood. His parents were always utterly supportive. To imagine that one wasn't sure about the love of your own parents made him shudder.
Sherlock seemed to sense Greg's thought. "My mother was always supportive. And her mother, my granny, she always loved me." Sherlock smiled at the memory of his only true solace in his childhood. "But my father was different. I was never sure how he felt about me being …" Sherlock didn't finish the sentence.
"I am sorry." Greg said.
"Not your fault." Sherlock answered a bit confused.
"I know, but one can be sorry despite of that." Greg explained.
Sherlock thought about that before he fell asleep again.