A/N Hey guys! Sorry this chapter is later than the norm, but English homework, what can you do? *Sighs* It was really starting to annoy (Sorry, National Treasure quote, too good to resist, sorry to anyone who hasn't seen it. Read: If you do get the chance, do see it, it's awesome :D) Also, I've been addicted to Life lately (haha, not that life isn't awesome, I don't write traumatising fics like this 'cos I'm sad, never fear :D I write 'em since I have a sadistic mind :P Do fear that though :D) But yeah, I mean the programme, it got cancelled on NBC a while back, does anyone remember it? It was a great series, but just didn't get the ratings so ended at like, season 2. Shame really. I just bought the box set. If anyone gets the chance to watch that too, then it really is a fantastic series :) Anyway, this is really off track now. Where was I? I don't remember :P
At least this gives us some May Day reading. However, May Day is half over with it being like 1:00 in the afternoon and all. And, how many people get May Day off school/work? I do, but I don't knwo about anyone else :S Lol, I'm so selfish

Anyhows, to all the reviewers/alerters/favouriters: Sorry this is late-ish, thanks so much for your time and effort my good friends and I hope sunshine stalks follows you wherever you go!

Disclaimer: The flying monkeys have saved me! They informed Steven Moffat of my predicament. He laughed and said "Serves her right for trying to steal Sherlock". Fortunately he needed his Tardis back for the filming of the next season of Doctor who. So I'm back, thankfully. With still no recollection of whom I am or why I keep my favourite films in genre order and the rest in alphabetical. Seeking help. Thanks to everyone who put forwards all their ideas and condolences last time, you guys are just too awesome :D

"Mother"

Mrs Holmes looked up at her eldest son, her eyes meeting his as he appraised her, his eyes darker than she had seen them in a long time. If she had been close enough, she would have sworn blind that there would have been a lightning storm crackling behind them. In fact the entire room crackled in a way the woman recognised. It was that pointless anger that came along whenever that child got hurt, whenever she told it the truth. She couldn't really understand why he got so angry over it.

"You're late," she said simply, "it's disrespectful". Mycroft's expression didn't change.

"Yes, well, I had things to deal with" Mycroft said. Mrs Holmes snarled at how he'd said "deal with". As if he was more important than her, as if he was so significant to anyone. Mycroft's smile was tight and utterly fake, the dangerous air about him felt like it was buzzing.

He heard the same as me then, Mrs Holmes thought darkly. She had heard the gossip already, it was a network within the hospital faster than phones, that her son had been here and had collapsed outside the hospital. She was pretty sure she knew why. How pitiful. "You saw that…thing…leave the hospital?" she asked. Mycroft's fist clenched. She had heard about it then. And she had said it as if it was a question about something as normal as the weather, as if it was what he had been expecting to hear. He gritted his teeth.

"No" he said, causing mother's eyes to narrow.

"What?"

"No, I did not see anything leave the hospital, mother. I did, however, see my brother." Mycroft said. His mother gave a tight grin and Mycroft had to dig his nails into his palms just to distract himself. He had never been so angry with a person in his life, never.

Through all of the people who had hurt Sherlock, people who had physically tortured his brother on cases, all of the people Mycroft had suddenly had to report "mysteriously missing" to the authorities if they weren't caught, he had always remained emotionally detached, or as much as he could. Always stood back. But to think, that his own mother, their mother, would say so much that Sherlock would actually believe her, that hurt Mycroft the most. Psychological attacks are always the worst, Mycroft thought. He had always tried to believe in the "happy families" ordeal. He had at some points, ignored Sherlock's pleas in order to make himself believe everything was okay. He had even tried to convince himself sometimes that it could have been Sherlock's fault. You know how it upsets mummy. Mycroft remembered saying that. And in front of John too. Sherlock had barely just moved from the back of an ambulance, after seeing a man shot, after being taken from his own flat. And Mycroft had still jumped on the chance to wind him up like a dog on meat. If he hadn't have been with mother, he would have blushed in shame at the memory, but mother was silently analysing his every movement. It wasn't me who upset her, Mycroft. He had wanted him to believe him, and Mycroft hadn't listened, as always. Why did he never just listen? This entire thing could have been avoided if he'd have just listened to Sherlock in the first place.

Mother was smiling at him pleasantly now, as if she had worked out exactly what he was thinking. Maybe she had. It wouldn't make any difference if she did, Mycroft thought.

"What, mother," he said, quietly "Did you say to Sherlock?"

"I said nothing". She looked at him sweetly. Butter wouldn't melt, Mycroft thought darkly.

"You are a liar" he said softly, and his mother's eyes narrowed further.

"You have no right to say such a thing!" she cried, "You are an impertinent child! How dare you-"

"And how dare you mother," Mycroft cut her off, his voice only rising to a notch above normal volume, "speak to my brother in such a way? Hmm? Answer me that, mother. How dare you?"

"I will not be interrupted Mycroft-"

"And I will not be ignored any longer!"

It surprised even Mycroft. He had never gotten so angry, to actually shout. His voice had been full of authority, strong and loud, and even mother had gone silent. Mycroft had to blink to shake off his own surprise. He had never shouted, but now, he felt like doing nothing more than grabbing hold of the woman and shaking some sense into her. "You," Mycroft said, taking the opportunity of his mother's silence "have no rights to even see my brother anymore after what you have done to him. You are selfish, you are cruel, and this? This is sick. What you think of as fun, has destroyed my brother, do you understand that, mother? He collapsed outside; I saw my own brother fall to the ground, unable to even breathe properly because of whom? My own mother. How do you think I feel mother?"

The woman remained motionless. Not even her smile came back, a sight that made Mycroft feel an insane amount of pride. He shouldn't feel proud, he knew it, but he did. He never wanted her to smile like that at Sherlock ever again. And if this was what he had to say to do it, then so be it. He stared her out. And then, inexplicably, she laughed. Outright laughter filled the room and Mycroft could barely contain how much he was shaken with rage.

"You," his mother gasped breathlessly, the laughter taking its toll on her already uneven breathing, "You call it your brother do you? Mycroft Holmes with his high position and his good business skills and his money, and he calls that thing his brother? And how does it feel to do that, hmm? Shameful? Do you feel as terrible as I feel for having that disease in the family name, to have the same blood? Something so filthy to be sharing your blood? Imagine it for me, when I also have you, with your delusions of grandeur and your high-and-mighty self! It's disgusting!"

Mycroft could swear right here, right now, that he had broken the skin on his palms; his nails were pushing so hard into them. It wasn't enough just to taunt Sherlock, but to fend off any protectors he had too. He waited a moment, composing himself, but he felt sick to the stomach just doing that. Why was he composing himself? He should show her how angry he was, but again pride stopped him, as it always did. If he was ashamed of anyone, it was himself. He couldn't even defend his own brother properly. And he was, although he could never admit it out loud, still that small bit afraid of the truth in what she said about him. Of her. He gathered up what was left of his tattered composure. It was a lie, it had to be. She lied to Sherlock, made him believe it. And now, the same was happening to him.

He took a deep breath.

"I promised him that I would look after him, from the likes of you" Mycroft hissed, "And so far, I've failed. And don't try and make me feel bad by saying that it's like everything else I say, because I already do feel bad. But I also feel like persevering with that promise for a long time, until the day when I don't have to try so hard. I am proud of him, and of myself and the only person I feel disgusted with is you."

"Proud? Of what? Your own father left you both to-"

"Father left you" Mycroft said coolly, "Like everyone else did. And you will be alone, mother. And Sherlock certainly won't have to listen to your lies again"

"He already believes the truth Mycroft, why can you not see it?" The voice was as sweet as honey, but it felt like a slap to the face and Mycroft's mind reeled at the words.

"The truth?" he said, so soft that he was glad the room amplified the noise, "The truth? You would not know the truth, mother, if you were told it. In fact, John did tell you it. That man, my brother, has stood up to more in his life than you ever had, and he still has the strength to come here, so you cannot even think to judge him on if he is better than you are, I can tell you for a fact right now, that he is"

Mycroft's thoughts coalesced as he spoke and he remembered just how much Sherlock had stood up to, even being as young a man as he was. Mother, father leaving, bullying, university, the drugs, the mockery of even the police force, the distrust, the disgust from people who didn't even know him, his brother, this. It was about time Mycroft did some of the standing for him, this was about how tall his brother really could stand, if only he had someone to lean upon.

"I've given you your chances; I've stayed scared of you for his sake. I'm choosing a side and it's not yours"

His mother's eyes widened in surprise before darkening. She looked like she was about to say something but Mycroft shook his head.

"It's about time Sherlock got his life back together. If you're not going to be there for him like a mother should, I will be". He straightened. "I'm done"

And with that, Mycroft turned and left the room, leaving his mother, for the first time in too long a time, thoroughly wiped of that smiled. And, Mycroft noticed, it seemed to have been the only thing holding him back from doing the one thing he himself hadn't done in a long time as, leaving the room, Mycroft gave his first genuine smile in a long time.

It felt good.

Heading out of the hospital, he waited for the car to arrive.

"You seem happy" his assistant said as he got in. He smiled and it felt like a weight had been lifted from him.

"Good visit?" she said, partially paying attention as always, phone in hand, but she seemed to be genuinely taking notice in Mycroft's sudden smile. Mycroft nodded, waving a go-ahead to the driver.

"Yeah. Good visit" he said.

"Going anywhere in particular sir?" the driver asked. Mycroft's smile widened. Anywhere in particular. He knew where he wanted to be, it was just getting there. Giving the driver his instructions, he settled back into the seat. But then, Mycroft thought, I come from a family of problem solvers. Looking out of the window at the passing people on the street, he sighed. I think we can both figure this one out.

He listened to Anthea's daily report with only half interest as the car drove, his mind wandering onto other things, happily noticing that for the first time ever, his mother didn't even come to mind. He was going to make things right, he was sure of it.

Lean on me little brother.

A/N I know how short this is in comparison to my other chapters but I was gunna add something else onto this, but I think it deserved a chapter of its own so I'm putting it into the next chapter. Forgive me if I'm wrong *Goes into anime mode: "Please regard me kindly* And sorry it's short, I just thought it'd be more impactive. I'll try and get the next one out earlier to make it up to you guys.

I was thinking while writing this, maybe their mother has the more opposite version of what the two brothers have? As in, instead of being unable to understand complex emotions and dealing with that, she can't understand that and so wants to cause the emotions she does know. Just a thought. Or she could just be sick and twisted. That works too :P

And since my friend Monika Watson is insisting on reading and reviewing this, a reply to her: Why do you never listen to me? I even asked nicely! And I haven't had breakfast yet but I think I might grab an apple, but I've got homework to do and Mad Men to watch. And I stayed up late last night watching Life, not writing *shame faced*. So there.

Anyway, back to it: Next chapter will be on time *sheepish grin*, hope you enjoy your day, that Fanfiction is good to you for another week as ever and that you may always have someone to lean upon.