"It's not the endings that will haunt you,
but the space where they should lie,
The things that simply faded,
without one final wave goodbye.
Like a book with torn out pages,
forgetting things you're sure you knew,
A question with no answer
And a song stopped halfway through."
Erin Hanson
"Sherlock, I'm already dead, but you've got to live." Mycroft is still smiling at him, his eyes shine a warm, encouraging glint. Sherlock feels his throat closing up.
"Why, Mycroft? Is that you… you did that to yourself, didn't you? This wound is not caused by others… Why? We don't trade lives, Mycroft! What did you even think? How could you do that?"
.
Somewhere around him, the doctors' urgent voices still ring out. He no longer notices. All he cares about now is Mycroft, that his soul being here with him. His soul! Sherlock feels hot tears welling up in his eyes, tears he cannot hold back anymore, he cries bitterly.
.
Come on. Faster.
Give me a knife and a flat vent.
.
"I have a strong heart, Sherlock. We have the same blood type. You'll be fine."
.
Wells, give me the new heart.
Heartbeat in position.
Get a 3-0 ready.
.
"I didn't ask that, Mycroft. I asked why did you kill yourself, to save someone who is deemed to die soon as me? Mycroft, did you even think at all?"
Sherlock sniffles between words, he sobs loudly.
.
Here, watch that clamp.
Pick up stitch.
Come on, come on.
Load the Milrinone.
.
Mycroft just smiles. His smile looks so sad. He raises his hand, wiping away Sherlock's tears, gently caring his little brother's cheeks as he speaks to him in a deep, distant voice.
"Listen to me one last time, brother. This is the only way. You were dying, you needed a heart. I had no choice. I can't let you die, Sherlock. I'm 42 years old this year, you have to promise me at least you'll live longer than that, you know?"
.
Three-one.
Wet his hands.
Scissor.
Cut.
.
Sherlock freezes, a great sob escapes him, and he covers his face with shaking hands. He is totally speechless. Why did this nightmare even happen to him? Why did Mycroft do that? Why didn't he think about how Sherlock might feel? How can he survive when he is the cause for the brutal death of his only brother? How can he continue to live? Mycroft, why did you do that? Unable to calm himself, Sherlock just cries silently, he can't even utter a sound but just shakes his head while tears streaming down his face.
.
Head down, pressure down.
Cross clamp off.
We got rhythm.
Looks good.
.
Mycroft cannot put on a poker face anymore, he also feels tears start welling up in the corner of his eyes. He has tried to pretend to be strong, so Sherlock could move on with peace on his mind; but looking at Sherlock crying so miserably like this, he suddenly feels a pang of pain from the deepest of his heart. How glad he has felt to still be able to see his little brother here once again! As the immense darkness totally enveloped him, he has truly thought it was his end. Then when he still worried of Sherlock, even after death, his mind suddenly brought him back to 221B and gave him one final chance to say goodbye to his brother. How wonderful! He has really thanked God to still have a little mercy on him. Mycroft didn't think that when he saw him, Sherlock would cry so pitifully. Had he known that, he would not have appeared.
Looking at him now, grown up so tall, yet crying like a baby, suddenly he remembers of a little boy who used to run after him, throwing tantrums all the time, hugging his neck and always asking for a piggyback ride. Life was so easy back then… How he wishes he could go back to that boy's embrace once again. Just once would be so nice… Sherlock saw his brother's eyes suddenly get all watery, then tears race down his pale cheeks, he gets all panicked and quickly hugs Mycroft. Ah, here it is. Just wish then it would come true…
"Mycroft? What's wrong? Are you hurt, Mycroft? Why you cry? Are they hurting you? What can I do for you?… Mycroft… I'm not going, I'm not going anywhere, I can't leave you alone, I'll stay here with you. Mycroft…"
.
Closing the chest. Pressure okay?
No Vicryl.
Sop it wet.
Yeah.
.
Surprised by his brother's sudden embrace, Mycroft staggers back a few steps. It has been a very long time since he had this feeling, when the warm arms of his little brother still holding on him so tightly. Truly wondrous. He wonders… when was the last time he hugged him, he can't remember anymore. Is this death, or is it heaven? Or is he really just imagining this warm embrace while being on the verge of death? Is it because of the utter loneliness he felt when he lay dying on the cold hospital floor, that his mind gives him such an illusion?… Nonetheless, he can't help but smile, burying his face deeper into Sherlock's shoulder, his eyes still wet with tears.
"You silly boy… Sherlock, don't let my death go to waste… John and little Rosamund are still waiting for you to wake up, do you know that? Think of them, and be strong. Okay? I know you can do it…"
.
Scissor, please.
Cut.
Great job.
Well, we do what we can.
.
At the mention of John, Sherlock finds his throat tightened with bitter taste. He still hugs him tightly, shaking his head like a child.
"I can't leave you alone..."
.
God damn it.
He's in fib.
Shit.
Get me an amp of eppy now.
.
Gently patting his head, Mycroft whispers into his neck.
"I don't matter. Sherlock, the dead is not to be worried about. Sherlock… go. Otherwise, there won't be time… Leave me, go…"
.
Come on, Mr. Holmes
We're trying to be heroes here.
Don't make us look bad.
.
Sherlock doesn't answer. He is still trembling. Sherlock presses his face even harder to Mycroft's shoulder, still holding him tightly. His hands lightly squeeze, seem like he wants an even closer hold on him. Mycroft sighs, feeling a lump in his throat. What can he say to make Sherlock return to the world where he belongs? Where his little family is still waiting for him, where he is no more, but there are still many others waiting for Sherlock?
.
He's still in fib.
Charge the paddles.
We're losing him.
.
"Sherlock… listen, Sherlock. You have to be strong, do you hear me? John and little Rosamund are waiting for you to wake up, do you hear them calling for you? Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. I don't know how long I'll stay here in this form either, maybe I'm about to disappear too, maybe I don't have much time left... So listen to me, Sherlock… Brother, look at me. I'm fine, see? And even if I will have to stay here all alone, I don't mind either… I never minded being alone, not like you… Sherlock… I'm sorry… I knew that when you were a kid you were always afraid of being alone… but… I do remember the day I left home and followed Uncle Rudi to London … I didn't mean to leave you behind, Sherlock, I really didn't mean to make you feel so neglected… I was so thoughtless… up to this point, I really regret it… Along all these years, how much things might have changed if I acted differently… Please forgive me… and give me a chance at redemption… will you? Sherlock, live on for me, so I can feel like my apology has been accepted..."
.
200.
Clear.
Come on.
Come on, Holmes. Come on.
.
Sherlock chokes on his sobs. He shakes his head, hugging Mycroft even tighter as if he is afraid that when he let go of his hand, he would disappear into thin air.
"I don't care… Mycroft, you promised you'd always be there for me, didn't you, Mycroft? You promised, didn't you?"
.
No change.
Give me 300.
Start mixing amio.
Holmes, come on.
.
Surprised by his brother's somehow childish words, Mycroft feels tears threatening to spill once again. He really regrets the time that already passed, that they couldn't go back to. Smiling sadly, he pats his back as encouragement.
"I can't be with you any longer, not even a second, not even a minute… But Sherlock, I've spent my life taking care of you, haven't I? I didn't go back on my word… I love you, brother mine… Thank you for being my brother. I really wish we can still be brothers in the next life, so I can make it up for you..."
.
Charge.
Clear.
Still in fib.
Give me 360.
We lost him.
.
Gently pushing Sherlock away, Mycroft takes a few steps back. Putting up a brave smile while his tears are still flowing freely, he lightly waves his hand. Go, Sherlock, go. John and your baby are waiting for you. Leave now, Sherlock, or you won't make it in time.
.
No. Again. Stay with us, Holmes.
360.
Clear.
.
Sherlock is still trembling with anguish. He looks back regretfully, eyes blurry, he can still see Mycroft standing there, waving his hand to encourage him to move forward. That's right, go, Sherlock. Be strong, you can do it. Sherlock, brother… goodbye.
.
Stop. We got him.
Welcome back, young man.
Welcome back.