Sherlockshockblanket - It's good to see a new reviewer of my story! You have many chapters to read, friend!

Marcia Santos – I have a thing for protective John and a sick Sherlock, haha. I love the Holmes brothers too. Oh and I'm a sucker for a caring Mycroft too!

Chapter Twenty-One

.o.o.

.o.

Sherlock finished the chapter he was on about the physics and composition of nebulas before he set it down on the coffee table and glanced over at his doctor to see that John was asleep by the fire, his book resting on his chest.

He smiled to himself and stood up before he walked over and transferred John's book to his own chair before he glanced over at their Christmas tree. It looked very similar to the one that he had had as a child growing up in his parent's house.

This thought made him wonder if John had done this on purpose. Perhaps he had bit the bullet and gone to see Mycroft at some point to ask him to describe their childhood Christmas tree so he could cheer Sherlock up a little. Even if he didn't, Sherlock was just glad that John still decorated it and didn't half-ass the holiday.

He scribbled a note telling him that he had gone to see Molly at the hospital and that he would be back soon. He signed it with love and placed it where he knew John would see it before grabbing his coat and headed out of 221B towards the street.

He started walking in the brisk cold, wanting to feel the icy air sting his skin again and enter his lungs. It felt almost as good as letting his own cold metal open up his skin but more importantly, the cold air made him feel alive. It made him breathe more deeply and seemed to restart his heart whenever he got into these dark states.

He walked for several minutes until he finally entered the hospital with a pink face and numb fingers but otherwise, feeling better mentally. He strolled through the halls until he reached Molly's room and glanced around before entering it. His stomach dropped when he saw the young woman lying in bed on her side, her front covered with a blanket and wrapped around her waist and legs but her back bare except for a long white bandage that covered it where she had been struck by her ex-boyfriend's belt.

He took a moment to compose himself before he sat down beside the bed.

"You came to see me," Molly spoke suddenly, surprise laced in her tone.

Sherlock watched as she looked up at him with soft eyes. "Of course I did. You're my friend."

"At the risk of sounding cheesy, you're my hero, Sherlock…"

"Molly, I think that might be a bit of an over exaggeration. I'm not a hero. You asked for my help and being that we're friends, I figured that I should help you. I couldn't in good will ignore your plead when you were obviously in danger. I did what I thought was best," Sherlock stated, matter-of-factly.

Molly smiled weakly. "Well I'm glad you did what you did. He was just… absolutely terrifying that day. He was so angry and I didn't know what to do."

"I understand, Molly. It's quite all right. You're safe now." Sherlock sat back in his chair and cast an observatory glance over her body. He hadn't seen it earlier but the pathologist looked as if she had lost a great deal of weight since the last time he had seen her.

"What's going to happen to Marcus now?"

Marcus. So the ex-boyfriend finally had a name to his face.

"He's going to be in prison for attempted murder and domestic violence. He'll be in there for a very long time. You needn't worry about him anymore."

Molly appeared to relax a little and breathed a sigh of relief. She was quiet for a few moments before speaking. "Have they said how much longer I'm going to be in here for?"

"No, but by the extent of your injuries, I would estimate at least three to four days, maybe another night beyond that under a watch," Sherlock replied calmly but in a gentle voice.

It was now that Molly's body stiffened. "A-A watch? Like… a suicide watch? Why would I top myself over this? I hated that bastard."

"They really are idiots here. They obviously don't know how strong you really are. I'm sure it's just because of liability issues that they'll be keeping you under suicide watch for the last night but I know you're strong enough that you wouldn't resort to that."

Molly bit her lip and searched Sherlock's face. "You really think I'm strong? So if I was having suicidal thoughts, you don't think I'd be strong anymore?"

Sherlock wasn't sure what to make of her question. His brow furrowed. "I would think you're strong no matter what. Are you having suicidal thoughts, Molly?"

"No," she shook her head but never took her eyes off of the young man. "I'm not, but… I was just curious what you think of yourself then. I know that you suffer from depression but I don't think it makes you any less strong. It's a chemical defect in the brain, yeah?"

Sherlock nodded in acknowledgement.

"So that shouldn't define how strong or how weak you are. It's something that can't really be helped, I mean. It's nothing against the person themselves. I think you're strong for not listening to all those bad thoughts in your head, quite truthfully, Sherlock," Molly weakly shrugged. "Anyway, you were the one fighting him that day, not me. I was just on the floor, taking his abuse. You were the strong one, not me."

Her words made Sherlock's heart ache. He leaned forward now and gently took her hand in his own. "You are strong, Molly Hooper. We both are. We've both been through hell and back and we're still here. We're still alive."

"We're both still fighting," Molly nodded now.

He smirked. "That's correct. We are."

Molly looked at him thoughtfully. "You're fighting right now, aren't you? It's another bad day for you. I can see it, in your eyes. You look sad."

Sherlock dropped his smirk now and nodded. "You're right. I am a bit sad today." He paused in thought now and took a shaky breath, running his thumb over the top of Molly's soft skin. "What if I want to stop fighting?"

He watched as concern and worry filled her eyes and he immediately felt something he barely recognized as guilt. She swallowed hard and chewed nervously on her lower lip before her jaw became defined suddenly. "You can't. You can't stop fighting, Sherlock, even when you want to. You can't give up, not when you have people that love you. Whenever you want to give up, that's when you should ask for help. You don't have to do this on your own. You have other people who are more than willing to step in and fight by your side."

"And you're one of those people, are you?"

She gave a smile now and nodded. "Yes, Sherlock. I am… and so is John."

Sherlock nodded knowingly now and gave her hand a gentle squeeze before he let go of it and stood up. "We'll fight alongside each other then, I suppose. Get better soon, Molly Hooper."

"Thank you, Sherlock. I mean, for everything. I meant what I said, by the way. You really are my hero."

He felt heat rise in his cheeks now before he leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Well, you're my hero too."

When he saw her smile a bit brighter now, he waved goodbye and exited the room, nearly running into another person and losing his balance from the impact.

"Jesus! There you are… I've been looking everywhere for you," Greg Lestrade's voice exclaimed as he caught Sherlock's arm just as his body swayed unsteadily.

The young man regained his balance now and looked at him curiously. "Well, Scotland Yard manages to successfully find me, good job. What is it you wanted?"

His ex-guardian seemed to hesitate at first and looked Sherlock over from top to bottom before meeting his blue eyes. "I just wanted to see how you were fairing, after everything." His eyes trailed up to the healing cut on Sherlock's forehead by his hairline.

"I'm fine," he replied shortly, not really in the mood to have a chat with Lestrade today.

"You say that even when you're not. Are you really okay or… do you need to talk about anything?"

The way Lestrade spoke made it seem like he had either been eavesdropping outside Molly's room or talking to John. Sherlock shook his head as convincingly as he could. "I'm actually okay, Lestrade. Thank you for your concern but I don't need anything. Now, if you'll excuse me."

Sherlock strode past Greg but was met with a firm grip on his arm. He searched Sherlock's face. "Are… we okay?"

He nodded but didn't meet Lestrade's eyes. "Yes. We're fine."

"All right, then. Just thought I'd check in."

Sherlock sighed as he finally made it out of the hospital and then cursed when he saw Mycroft standing outside, having a smoke. He growled now. "For God's sake, am I going to have to see every single person I know today? What the hell are you doing here, Mycroft?"

"I heard about Molly Hooper. I thought I'd come and see how she was doing…"

He watched as his brother blew out his cigarette smoke. "You don't care about other people. Why are you really here?"

Mycroft was quiet for a bit before he took another drag and turned to face Sherlock. "Why do you think I'm here, dear brother?"

"I'm not in the mood to deduce your reasons for stalking me today. Save us both time and energy and just come out with it, will you?" Sherlock glanced around, seeing if maybe John was somewhere watching his every move.

His brother rolled his eyes now and gave Sherlock a disapproving look. "I'm here because you've stolen morphine as well as needles from this very hospital in the not too distant past and one of my people saw you make a beeline from 221B to the hospital."

Sherlock took out his own cigarettes from his pockets now and lit one before taking a long drag. "So you assumed I was depressed because I came here. You were hoping to catch me in the act of stealing medical supplies again. Your faith and trust in me is just… too much, Mycroft. Really, you might consider toning it down a bit. It really is embarrassing."

"Save the sarcasm, Sherlock. It's not a surprising assumption. You have been depressed as of late. People do slip up. I came here in the hopes of talking you out of doing any such thing. I'm trying to help you. Now, would you mind greatly if I searched you?"

"A search? You want to do a search on me?" Sherlock put his arms up now and spread his legs. "You could've just asked Lestrade to do it himself. He's inside right now."

Mycroft ignored his younger sibling's sass and started to pat him down, moving from his chest area down to where his pants pockets were and then took a step back.

"Satisfied now? May I finally be on my way back home now?"

Mycroft took one last drag before he put out the half smoked cigarette on the ground and waved to a black car with tinted windows. Sherlock sighed as it pulled up to them.

"I thought we would go somewhere for lunch. I can assume correctly that you haven't eaten yet today?"

"No," Sherlock shook his head, putting out his own cigarette. "Obviously you can't, because I have eaten today. I had two pieces of toast with a side of antidepressants."

Mycroft opened up the back door. "Well, eating lunch won't do you any harm. Get in, little brother."

The younger man decided it was easier to just give into his brother's demands than arguing so he slid into the back before Mycroft did the same. The car sped off down the street, as if it already knew where it was going.

The two brothers were silent, leaving Sherlock to check his phone:

1 Missed Text from John Watson.

Sherlock opened the message and read it.

I know I'm being paranoid but please just let me know you're okay. I'm sorry I didn't wake up before you left. – John

He knew his brother was reading over his shoulder but he wasn't about to stop his affections for his partner because Mycroft couldn't mind his own business.

John, I'm fine. I'm just about to have lunch with my brother. I'll be home soon. – SH

"How is it, dear brother, being in love?"

"It's agonizing," Sherlock confessed. "I'm a constant disappointment. I feel sorry for him."

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Why is that?"

"He has to deal with me every day. I'm not the most pleasant person to be around. It can't be easy for him."

The car stopped and the two brothers stepped out and into Speedy's café. Good; at least Sherlock wouldn't have to go far to get home. He was running low on energy. There was something about the cold that seemed to zap everything out of him.

They ordered two coffees and two sandwiches before finding a table in the corner by a large window. Mycroft motioned that he wanted to sit with his back towards it so Sherlock sat across from him, finally realizing that his brother was trying to make Sherlock feel as at ease as possible right now.

Mycroft was being… considerate towards him!

Sherlock took a sip of his coffee and wrapped his hands around it, letting the heat warm up his frozen fingers. He nibbled at his sandwich even though he didn't really feel all that hungry. If his brother was going out of his way to make Sherlock comfortable, then he figured he might as well make an effort to appreciate the gesture.

"How long will it take the antidepressants to work? I assume it would take some time?"

Sherlock nodded as he swallowed some more of his sandwich. "John said it would take a few weeks for my body to get used to the medication so… I suppose I just take them every day and it's a waiting game."

Mycroft nodded awkwardly in understanding and cleared his throat, making an obvious effort to act as civil as possible. "Sherlock, tell me… what do you usually do when you feel depressed? Besides, self-injuring?"

"Well, John's been trying to help distract me when I'm depressed. He talks to me, I've taken up reading about cosmology again. I studied it in university and… I forgot how interesting it can be," Sherlock remarked.

Mycroft sat in his seat, relaxed and nodded once. "I've read some of those books as well. Cosmology can really be fascinating. As a matter of fact, I've read how humans contain carbon, nitrogen, and oxygen atoms in our bodies… along with other heavy elements. Do you know where else these elements are found, Sherlock?"

He had a feeling where Mycroft was going with this conversation but he didn't want to stop. This topic had fascinated him as well when he had read it in his textbook earlier. "Of course. They're elements found in the universe, in stars."

Mycroft nodded and gave him a small smirk. "Think about what this means, Sherlock."

He took a moment to think about it, even though he didn't really need to. He had known about these two facts but he had always thought about them separately, not as a whole other line of thinking. He took a drink of his coffee. "It means we're made up of stars."

"That's right," Mycroft nodded, satisfied. "Each of us has a universe inside our bodies. Isn't that amazing? We're made up of the same components of the cosmos that we look up at every night."

Sherlock had never seen Mycroft act so excited about anything that didn't have any vital importance to himself or the country before, but he liked this new man. He couldn't help but feel an excitement about this information as well. He hadn't ever thought about it this way before.

"It is an interesting concept to think about," Sherlock agreed. "It's a shame that I've been letting the universe leak out of me."

This comment caught Mycroft's attention, as he knew it would. His brother shifted in his seat now and set his jaw. "You're made up of unbelievable things, dear brother. You shouldn't keep letting it leak out of you like you do. It's a terrible waste. You should keep it inside of you always, so you can remember how magnificent you actually are, Sherlock, and how lucky you are to be living and thinking… and loving."

The small speech almost made Sherlock's jaw drop but he made sure to keep himself in check. He blinked a bit, however, surprised that his brother would say any of these things to him or at all. It felt like Invasion of the Body Snatchers but it was working in Sherlock's favor. He wanted it to continue forever and ever.

"I… honestly don't know what I should say right now, Mycroft."

His brother chuckled now and finished his sandwich before he stood up. "You don't have to say anything, Sherlock. John told me that he has to work tomorrow. Did you want me to stop by for some tea and company?"

Sherlock considered this offer and almost took him up on it but then his depression started to whisper in his ear again.

You don't deserve to be near your brother.

You don't deserve anyone to talk to.

You deserve to be alone, Sherlock.

John probably asked to work tomorrow so he wouldn't have to be near you.

You are a burden on everyone.

Sherlock took a deep breath and shook his head. "No, that's… that's all right, Mycroft. I appreciate the offer but I'll be fine. I don't need babysitting all of the time. Have a nice Christmas Eve."

Mycroft looked surprised and maybe even a little worried but he slipped his coat back on. "Well then, I suppose I'll see you after the New Year then."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "You have big plans, I take it?"

"Oh dear Sherlock, you have no idea," Mycroft smirk grew bigger now and he chuckled once again. "Merry Christmas…"

He suddenly thought about the impossible now.

No, it couldn't be.

"Mycroft, did you find yourself a goldfish?"

The elder sibling gave his brother a Cheshire cat-like smile before he started walking past him. "Merry Christmas," he repeated softly.

Sherlock blinked again and then couldn't help but chuckle to himself now. He shook his head and then finished his sandwich and coffee before he stood up, grabbed his own jacket and walked back home next door, unsure what to make of his brother's words but knew that things were going to be okay somehow.

He walked inside the flat and hung up his coat before he walked over to John and planted a kiss to the doctor's lips. John dropped his newspaper and placed his hands on Sherlock's shoulders as he returned the kiss.

When they parted, Sherlock sat down in his armchair.

"Well, you seem to be better…"

"Is that a bad thing?"

John shook his head now. "No, of course not. I'm just pleasantly surprised. Sherlock, are you…?" John trailed off, fearing the worst.

Sherlock instantly knew where he was going with his question and he rolled his eyes. "No, of course not. It was just a very interesting day is all."

"Oh? How so?"

Sherlock smirked to himself. "I believe my brother might actually be capable of romantic love. He was acting very suspicious at lunch. Apparently he has plans for Christmas and I won't see him until after the New Year."

John raised his eyebrows but shrugged. "So he's in love. That's fantastic. You should be happy for him."

"I am happy for him, John. I just wish I knew who it was. I didn't get a chance to ask him. He rushed out so quickly…" Sherlock started going through his phone and deleting old messages.

John sighed contently and turned back to his paper. "Does it really matter who it is? I mean, this sounds like a rare occurrence. Maybe he's trying to keep it hush hush, with him being in a government position and all."

Sherlock nodded as he pondered this.

Hush hush.

If it was someone who others may know or maybe it could appear to be taboo in some places, of course Mycroft would want to hide it.

He decided to let it go for now but he let his curiosity swim just below the surface, not far enough to wander off and be forgotten but just slid to the side for now. Sherlock felt like the cold winter air, the warm coffee, and the possibility of secrets kicked his adrenaline as well as his pleasure center, into high drive.

He stood up and grabbed John's hand, causing him to drop the newspaper. He expected the doctor to be upset but only heard him laugh.

"Sherlock? What are you –"

His words were cut short though as Sherlock pressed his lips against John's again before pulling off the doctor's clothes almost hungrily, making sure to plant warm kisses all over his skin. John passionately kissed him back before taking off Sherlock's own clothes and playfully shoving him onto the bed before quickly becoming another distraction for the young man.