Sherlock was sitting on an exam table in the nurses' station, marveling at the small cut on his left cheek. There wasn't anything particularly exceptional about it, aside from the fact that someone had gotten the punch in without him realizing what was happening at first.

The nurse on duty rubbed an alcohol swab over the broken skin, and Sherlock closed his eyes.

"Are you certain you won't be pressing charges then, Sherlock?" Sherlock's mouth tightened, which brought a small reproach from the nurse. He relaxed again as she began to rub some antibiotic ointment on it carefully.

"Of course I'm sure."

"Sherlock."

"Drop it, Mycroft." Sherlock took in a long, slow breath. He had to admit he was rather impressed with Harry. The Watson siblings were an interesting pair. Sherlock smiled.

"There's nothing funny about this, Sherlock."

"Everything is funny about this, Mycroft."

"How so?"

Sherlock was quiet a moment, which gave the nurse the chance to pronounce him finished. He opened his eyes and thanked her, hopping off the exam table and striding out the door of the station. Mycroft followed.

"You haven't answered the question, Sherlock."

Sherlock turned and glared at his brother. "Well, you seem to know all." He stepped back, arms spread wide. "Have a go, then." Mycroft's disapproving expression made Sherlock smile. "No? Tut tut, brother dear, you seem to be losing your touch."

"He loves you, you know." Sherlock froze, eyes widening. Mycroft's expression turned to a cheshire grin. "Oh come, come, you saw it, Sherlock. That's why you went through the charade of not wanting to be near him now. You saw that he was falling in love with you."

"He was not."

"Well, not anymore." Sherlock could not stop it - his face gave everything away, betrayed him at those three stupid words. Mycroft continued on. "So what will you do about that?"

"There is nothing to be done."

"You don't believe a word of that."

"Shut. Up." Sherlock stepped closer, leaning into his brother's space, faces mere inches apart. "You know nothing about John. Nothing."

"I know you, Sherlock. And having met John, I can safely believe that I know him well enough-"

"No you don't!" Sherlock did something very, very uncharacteristic of himself - he reached out with both hands and shoved Mycroft, shoved him hard, as hard as he could. Mycroft stumbled backwards, looking shocked and a little shaken. "John is a beacon of light I'd never dared dream of finding! John is a better man than you would ever give him credit for. John..." Sherlock was breathing hard, and he stepped back quickly, hands going to his face as he willed himself to stop, just stop this, because emotions were useless when you couldn't express them properly, and he would never be proper. his hands dropped enough that he could look at his brother.

Mycroft stared at him, dumbstruck. If he hadn't been so upset by the situation, Sherlock might have enjoyed a very rare sight. Sherlock kept his hands over his face, breathing raggedly. Two arms encircled him, and he tried to pull away for a second before leaning into the embrace in defeat.

"I can't keep doing this, Mycroft." His voice was soft, and Mycroft had to lean in even closer to hear him correctly. "These... emotions, feelings, whatever they are... it's too much."

"I see you are finding they are not as easy to turnoff as you would like, Sherlock."

"I used to be able to turn them off with a single text."

"And I wanted to throttle you each time you used that as your escape."

Sherlock let out a mirthless laugh. "Yes." He pulled away, and Mycroft dropped his arms. "Your disappointing little brother, always the screw-up, always making mistakes. If only you could have stopped it all, Mycroft."

"I wanted to save you."

Sherlock shook his head. "Can't save someone who's chosen damnation."

"Sherlock-"

"Always second best, Mycroft. Always. Father favored you, Mother favored you, you were given everything. And I couldn't be you. What else was there for me?"

"They would have given you anything, Sherlock." Mycroft's voice is tired, and sounds far older than it should.

Sherlock looks away, feeling tired and useless and lonely, which is not something he'd ever truly experienced. He takes a deep breath in through his nose, blowing it out again through his mouth.

"Talk about anything you want to, Mycroft." His voice was still soft, still quiet, but there was genuine menace behind it too. "Except John. Just... I want just this one thing that is only for me."

"I shall say only this, then: if you don't do something soon, he won't be for you, Sherlock. He will move on, and you will be left in the distance."

Sherlock nods. "Then I shall want him from afar."

"Sherlock."

"It's for the best."

Mycroft sighed. "Who's best?"

Sherlock looked back at him. "Everyone's." Then he strode back out to the grounds, leaving Mycroft to catch up.

Oh look, a bonus chapter! Just one this time. There will be one bonus chapter next week, too. :)

Next week's post will conclude Act I of The Minor Fall, which basically means we're about halfway there! After that, Act II will start up, and it's all part of the same story, so there won't be any need to worry about what to look for next (yet!). Once Act II is done, I'll announce the title for the second "book" in this series, and let you know how soon it will start posting. (And in case you're wondering, I've already got "Book 2" roughly mapped out, and a few scenes written.)

So, TL;DR - Next week we're halfway through this one. I'm excited. :D