And here goes the second chapter of today's update! I have to edit the rest, and that'd be it.

Oh, and you may have noticed my poor attempt at fanart as the cover ^^ Sometimes, words are not enough to transcript ideas...

Hope you'll enjoy! :)

Critics & feedback more than welcome.

Chapter 21. Family reunion

The three of them looked in the given direction. Indeed, there was a black car with stained windows near the ambulance. Exhaling a heavy sigh, Victoria headed there, followed closely by the dynamic detective duo. They planted themselves two yards away and waited. Eventually, the door opened and Mycroft emerged from the car's depths. His face resembled a mortuary mask, pale and motionless. His siblings stared intensely at him, one with growing irritation, and other with doubt and relief. John just stood in the background, observing the scene while silently dealing with the strange of curiosity and empathy his sentimental mind managed to produce.

The youngest sibling ended up breaking the awkward silence: "Long time no see."

Her memories of Mycroft were quite fragmented. He was the one holding authority. The one ultimate protection. The one who was gone to the uni far away. The one who was too busy with his studies to play with her.

Mycroft stared back at her. There was no doubt left. This woman was Victoria. She was his sister, indeed. The same little girl whose grey eyes silently pleaded him to stay home while Sherlock was throwing a tantrum on the final day he spent at home before the uni first term. The same person who would often bring him a tray with tea and Mummy's cookies when he was studying late at night. The woman whose bloodied piece of cloth he cried over fifteen years ago. The silly girl who went to confront his psychotic classmate and got nearly killed. The girl who managed to make Sherlock smile when she was just a baby and when the boy was shutting everyone out after their father's death.

And then John had the biggest surprise of his life – a tear flowed slowly down Mycroft's emotionless face. They all stared at him with eyes as wide as saucers. After a little time of hesitation, Victoria stepped forward and gave her older brother a hug. Mycroft pated her head and took a step back to have a better look on her.

"Glad you're alright." Here was the impassible Big Brother again. This man's control over his emotions was truly terrifying. That skill had always had the knack of exasperating Sherlock.

The consulting detective struggled to regulate the flow of memories from his childhood invading the mind palace's corridors. There was the day Mummy brought the baby home for the first time. Dad hadn't been there for a while. Sherlock had yet to realize that it was a 'forever'. He was a three-years-old back then, and it was really nice taking care of the baby-girl, playing with her and teaching her things. For once, he was unconditionally listened to, and was never lectured by her, and she always admired him. Well, not always. When she grew up, they had fights, and they hit each other, and said mean things, but they would always come back to laughing together and making Mycroft mad, and observing neighbors.

He remembered the 'stupid bullies' case. He caught Vick in the bathroom while she was trying to conceal her bruises. He remembered clearly how he analyzed, compiled data, came to the conclusion and got seriously angry, how he fought the boys in the park and how he made all the adults stressed out by deducing their deepest secrets. Mycroft's input had left him confused. He was kind of thankful to his brother for covering up, but it greatly upset him that he hadn't been able to fully protect their baby-sister. Not strong enough.

He remembered the day he came down the dining hall in his boarding school, and caught a glimpse of a newspaper in his teacher's hands. The deadly cold he felt once he recognized Victoria on the photo and the meaning of the words 'missing, presumed dead' sank into him. He had never ran that fast, to the station, to their home, to her room, but she wasn't there, she was nowhere to be found, and Mummy was crying, and Mycroft was white as a sheet, and why didn't he call him right away? He could have helped, he knew Vick better than anyone, he could have been able to find her, why, dammit, why didn't he tell him?! Back to the present, he deleted the helpless anger again.

And there were days spent without her, without her annoying and pertinent questions about his experiments, without her talking him out of trouble with other kids, without her sneaking into his room at night with chocolate bars. And the persistent feeling that something had to be done, this awful feeling nagging at him, the drugs he used to flee it, the Work he immersed himself in instead of chemical oblivion. Then he met John, the army doctor who was haunted by his past as much as himself. His best friend. He attempted to move on, never forgetting, never letting go, despite Mycroft's efforts to make him believe in her death.

"May I remind you whose merit is it?"

The older Holmes reacted instantly: "You should not put the blame on me, brother dear."

"Oh, right, you were acting in my best interest…"

"Indeed!"

"Stop it!" Victoria shouted. This fight seemed rather pointless to her, however judging by her brothers' glares it was not their opinion. She glanced at John for help, but he just shrugged. He was already used to this attitude. Oh my, were they that stubborn?

After briefly considering her options, she decided to go with the surprise tactic. "You're too noisy." And then she left them standing by the car, not letting a single chance to react. John smirked. This girl might be the only person in the world to be able to silence the Holmes brothers in such a drastic manner. Ready to step in if needed, he followed her to the ambulance. It was great time for Victoria to get checked at the hospital.