Mycroft opens the door to the motel and steps aside to let everyone file in. Someone flips on the light to the relatively small room. "I'm sorry it's so tiny Mary. Trying to lay low until we can get everyone safe."

"John and I can take the floor." Sherlock places Mary's overnight bag by the dresser and shrugs his coat onto the armchair.

"No. Care can stay in our bed. One of you take the other." Mycroft places his hand on top of Caroline's head and ruffles her hair.

"Dad!" Caroline protests.

Sherlock shakes his head. "Let the kid have her own bed. John can take the couch, and I don't sleep on a case." Caroline wanders further into the room and flops down. "Looks like we have our answer. John, shall we go see if the café is open?"

John nods. "I'm famished. But I thought you didn't eat on a case."

"I don't, but I promised Mye here some cake." Sherlock gestures to Mycroft." Let's go." The two of them turn to leave.

"I'll come too. Mycroft, can you get Caroline tucked in?" Mary follows the two men outside and closes the door without waiting for a response.

Mycroft rolls his eyes and turns to Caroline who'd made her way up to the headboard while they were talking and buried herself in the pillows.

"Get on his level." Caroline's voice sounded muffled and sleepy.

"What do you-?"

"Sherlock's. You're having a hard time understanding him." Caroline flips over and sits up. "But that's because you always act as if you're higher than everyone else. If you want to understand, as Mummy says, put on their shoes and walk in them." Mycroft sits on the edge of the bed, and Caroline crawls over to sit on his lap. "People aren't that hard to understand if you really try."

Mycroft laughs lightly. "Sometimes I wonder how you're only four."

"I just think."

"Well then, I suppose, if I'm going to understand Sherlock, I'm going to need some of that thinking. Give it here." Mycroft picks Caroline up and tosses her playfully back up to the pillows. He growls like a tiger and she laughs, trying to escape, but he catches her and tickles her relentlessly.

They're both laughing when Mary interrupts. "You call that putting her to bed?" Mary pushes her shoulder off the wall she was leaning on. "I came back for some cash and here you are, riling her up. Come on Sweetheart. Into bed."

Mycroft wipes the smile off his face and nods. "Yes. Of course. Sorry." Mary shakes her head, amused, and holds up the sheets while Caroline settles under them.

"Where's Teddy?" Caroline sits up and looks to where her bag was abandoned on the floor.

"I'll get him." Mycroft walks over to her suitcase and unzips the top, revealing Caroline's brown teddy bear neatly stacked on a pile of clothes. He lifts Teddy from his prison and hands him off to Mary who tucks him into the bed beside Caroline. She kisses the top of the girl's head and steps aside to allow Mycroft to do the same.

Caroline closes her eyes as Mycroft kisses her forehead. "I love you Daddy."

Mycroft is slightly taken aback. "I love you too Care."

"Everything will be okay."

"I know. I'll make sure of it."

Mary holds up a small stack of bills and waves it. "Want anything while I'm down there?"

Mycroft looks up from his daughter. "Some coffee would be nice. And a scone."

"Right. Jam?"

"Always." Mycroft smiles lovingly at his wife and she leaves the room.

Caroline's voice draws him back. "Can I have a story?"

Mycroft brushes her blonde curls out of her face. "What kind of story?"

Caroline thinks for a second then responds. "One of Uncle Sherly's cases… that you helped solve!"

"Alright. Let me think of one. There was the Bolivia scandal. And the photo lab…"

"That one!" Caroline grabs her teddy and pulls it close while Mycroft flips on the bedside lamp.

"You ready?" Caroline nods. "This one was weird. So, I was at the Diogenes Club a few years back. You know the one. That club where everyone is always silent?" Caroline nods again. "Well, I got a phone call. I'd forgotten to turn off my ringer, so it was loud. I had to leave quickly. Anyhow, the call was from the police chief. She told me I was needed down Franklin Avenue right away. As soon as the call ended, I left the club and headed there. Sherlock was already on the scene, deducing most everything."

"Then what?" Caroline asked.

"Well, he and I weren't on good terms, so the air was rather tense, however, this was business, so we pushed aside our differences with a few insults. The DI had decided the mess of a photography lab was nothing more than the owner packing up and leaving, but Sherlock believed otherwise. Through careful examination of the surrounding area, he'd noted a broken doorknob, a film cartridge which had been left behind, and scuff marks on the sidewalk where the person had obviously lost grip on the equipment and dropped some of it in their rush."

"Maybe the dead man did it?"

"Dead man? How did you…?"

"Well, obviously. Mummy says Lestrade wouldn't call Sherlock for anything less than a body case so… Elementary."

Mycroft laughed. "Anyways, this particular photo lab had no security system, and it just so happened to have been developing very important government photos. When we went inside, there was a dead man. The DI decided the man had been in late to get pictures, found the owner returning, and the owner, frightened, killed the man so he couldn't tell anyone he had left while dealing with such important photos. Then after killing him, he packed up everything and left. Sherlock again disagreed. By the angle of the stab wounds, and the direction of the blood splatters, it was a suicide. The dead man WAS the owner. This is where I come in. With permission, I examined the crime scene and procured an abandoned photo of the dead man standing behind a recently shot official and the queen. The picture clearly showed a gun in his hand. Whoever this guy was developing for had captured the moment before a murder and the owner knew it.

I handed the photo off to the nearest police officer and proceeded to make a few calls. By examining street security, we found the owner had come late last night, and, in an effort to make it look like a break in, kicked the doorknob to break it. He took all the equipment and dumped it in the harbor, then came back to the lab and completely ransacked the place before killing himself with several stab wounds to the chest. It was all a set up. I'm sure there were more incriminating photos but when the officers retrieved the equipment, we found the water had destroyed all the photos."

"You're like a superhero, huh Daddy?"

"I guess kind of." Mycroft lowered his eyes, remembering all the people whose lives he'd destroyed.

"Perfect bedtime story Mycroft. Now she'll never sleep." Mary said closing the door after she, Sherlock and John had filed in.

"Oh she'll be fine." Sherlock says, moving the curtain aside and looking out into the night.

Mary hands Mycroft his snacks and sits on the bed. "Daddy, I want to be just like you when I grow up." Caroline tosses the covers aside and jumps up to hug Mycroft around the neck.

"She'll be totally fine Mary." Mycroft sets the scone on the bedside table and hugs Caroline back.

"Here." John holds out a slice of white cake in a box and a fork. Mycroft looks to Sherlock confused.

"Oh just take it. I'd have a fag right now if I had any. Just take the cake. I promised."

Mycroft takes the cake from John with a grateful nod and places both the scone and the cake in the mini fridge beside the bathroom. "I hardly believe you don't have one stashed somewhere on your person." He sips on the coffee contentedly.

"Not at the moment. I left them all at your place. Never mind that now. John, come here." Sherlock beckons John over.

"Yes?" John steps around the bed and stands in front of Sherlock.

Sherlock lowers his voice. "I want you to go with Caroline when we split them up. Don't tell Mary or Mye. None of them, do you understand? She'll be your daughter while you're gone." Mycroft could still make out what he's saying, but pretends not to hear and tucks Caroline in.

"Yes. Yes. I understand. My…" John pauses, "daughter. But why can't she go with Mary or Mycroft?"

"She's safer with you. You know how to defend yourself. Hell, you're a soldier. Mye's lucky to be standing at the moment. Mary… she's sweet, but she can't defend herself as well as you. Knowing my brother, he'll want his kid to be as safe as possible. I believe that's with you."

Mycroft nods, looking his little girl in the face. John would be a better guardian than either of them right now. Mary was untrained, and while she could handle a gun, John would be better at keeping himself and Caroline safe at the same time.

John spoke again, but his words were too quiet to make out.

"Yes. For someone so dim, you are rather bright John." Sherlock said blatantly.

"Thanks? I think?"

"Welcome." Sherlock turns and addresses everyone. "I believe you all should get some rest."

"Yes of course." Mycroft kisses Care's forehead. "Goodnight. No more getting up or Mummy will get mad." Mycroft winks and Care giggles. "Alright boys let's let Mary change. Come outside for a minute." He stands and leads Sherlock and John from the room. "Sherlock, tonight, we need to work."

"No, John and I are going to work on the locations. You're getting some rest." Sherlock tries to speak with an authoritative tone, but Mycroft scoffs. "I'm serious. You need to sleep. Let us take care of the details."

"No." Mycroft's eyes widen briefly. "John can sleep. You and I will do the work."

"You've been up all night. You must be exhausted." Sherlock must have noticed Mycroft's change in demeanor.

"I'm not. I'm more concerned about where you two would send my family." Mycroft lied.

"Then John and I will figure the details and you can approve them, but you're going to sleep while we do."

"A-alright." Mycroft knocks on the door. "Mary, are you done?"

"Almost, give me one minute." Mary calls back.

"John, I'll teach you the code and we'll come up some locations. Smokey, hand me your lighter." Sherlock holds out his hand.

Of course Sherlock noticed he'd taken up smoking again. "I thought you said you didn't have any cigarettes?" Mycroft reaches into his jacket and pauses with his hand on his pack and lighter, waiting for Sherlock's reply.

"I don't. Just hand it over." Sherlock twitches his fingers, once again instructing Mycroft to hand over the lighter. Mycroft pulls out his pack and takes out one of the cigarettes, handing it and the lighter over. "I thought you stopped smoking."

"I get stressed sometimes too Sherlock." Mycroft puts the pack back in his jacket.

Sherlock lights the cigarette. "You need sleep. You'll feel better."

Mycroft swallows the lump in his throat and looks down. "I don't want to," he says quietly.

Sherlock takes a long drag. "Don't you trust me to keep all of you safe? Go."

"Of course I do. I just don't-" Mycroft's legs suddenly refuse to hold his weight and he stumbles into the wall, barely managing to stay standing. John rushes forward and helps support him while Sherlock knocks on the door.

"Mary? Can we come in now?"

"Yes. Just be quiet. Caroline just fell asleep." John helps Mycroft to the bed. "He alright?"

Sherlock looks out the window again, now obviously looking for something or someone. "He's fine Mary. Just tired. Practically dropped where he stood."

"I'll take it from here. You two do what you need to." Mary takes Mycroft from John and the two other men head back out.

A few hours later, John has fallen asleep on the couch and Sherlock is once again staring out the window. Their plans were all set up, and the notes burned in the outside ash tray. Sherlock looks up at a small moan from Mycroft. In the early dawn light, small beads of sweat can be seen glistening on his forehead. After yet another shuffle, Sherlock stands and shakes Mycroft's shoulder. "Mye." Sherlock whispers, trying not to wake Mary. "Hey. Mycroft. Wake up would you?" There's no response, so Sherlock grabs a water bottle from the fridge and carefully drips the water onto Mycroft's face. He sits bolt upright, bouncing the bed and causing Mary to turn in her sleep. His breathing is labored, and it takes him a moment to shake the dream from his mind and focus his eyes on Sherlock. "You alright?" Sherlock whispers. He struggles to keep his balance as Mycroft grabs at his shirt. "Mye. It was just a dream. You're safe, alright?"

Mycroft stays silent for several moments, slowing his breathing and holding tightly to Sherlock. He swings his legs off the bed before speaking, "I'm… fine."

"Mye, look at me."

"Nothing's wrong. Just a dream."

"Whenever we'd stay with Auntie, you never had nightmares that bad. What happened?" Sherlock stopped. "It was me wasn't it?"

Mycroft shifts his gaze to the left, clear indication of a lie. "No."

"Don't lie to me Mycroft."

"It's nothing. Really."

Sherlock takes Mycroft's hand awkwardly, imitating compassion he often sees from others. "How long have they been happening?"

Mycroft stares at Sherlock's hand as he reluctantly responds, "About a week. Every one about someone else. Mary shot, Caroline tortured, you-" Mycroft's already quiet voice breaks.

"It sounds like you're punishing yourself. Your subconscious is showing you what you're most afraid of. You don't believe you've helped enough or been there enough. But listen Mye. You've done more than Father ever did for us, that's a giant leap right there."

Mycroft suddenly looks ill and runs to the sink, vomiting violently. Sherlock follows calmly and rubs his brother's back. Mycroft spits the taste of bile from his mouth. Sherlock offers him the water bottle and he takes it, swishing the water in his mouth. "Thanks." Sherlock leads Mycroft to the armchair and lifts his coat out of the way so Mycroft can sit. "I don't know what's wrong with me lately."

"Try… being scared. That's an emotion the humans feel right?" Sherlock perches on the armrest. "What happened to me?"

"You…" Mycroft takes a gulp of water and composes himself. "There was a man. He had a gun, and… he, he blew your head off, then continued to pump your corpse full of bullets all whilst laughing and staring at me. I couldn't move."

"So that's how much you love me." Mycroft looks up, horrified, but Sherlock interrupts his protest, "I'm only joking. Did you get a good look at his face?"

"I… it kept changing. One minute, it was Moriarty, the next, Sebastian, and then a man I've never seen before."

"Moriar…? Describe him."

Mycroft looks up. "Who? The unknown man?" Sherlock nods. "About 1.8 meters (5'11) tall with dark hair and snakelike green eyes. Bulky arms and a short neck."

"Thank you Mycroft. You've just described a criminal. I'd hoped your subconscious would point out someone you'd seen recently. You're sure you've never seen him before? Not on a street corner, or while you were working with Lestrade? Did he come by your house trying to sell you something? Anything?"

Mycroft shook his head. "No. Why does it matter? He was a man in my nightmare."

"Our subconsciousness can make up situations but has a hard time making up faces. If you see a face, you've seen them somewhere before."

"But that doesn't make him a murderer."

"You're right, but it doesn't rule it out. You made him the bad guy. There has to be a reason. Why did he want to kill me? What did I do?"

"Nothing. He just came out of an alleyway and shot you."

Sherlock closes his eyes, thinking. "Alright. Go back to sleep Mye. John and I finished deciding tomorrow's travel. May have stolen your fags and had another one, or two. Maybe three."

"I don't blame you. I think I've eaten more cake in the last 2 days than in the whole month combined."

Sherlock exhales. "I was doing so well too." He looks at his brother again. "You would have been so proud of me."

"Who says I'm not?" Mycroft shifts his position in the chair to better face Sherlock.

"You? Proud of me?" Sherlock scoffs. "Yeah right."

"Why not? You're not a total lost cause. You've got some brain in you."

"Not like you. We could play a game of Scrabble and you'd beat me, hands down."

"So I do a lot of crossword puzzles at the club. And?"

"Afraid of old age?" Sherlock chuckles and Mycroft pushes him lightly. "Alright fine. Any board game, you'd win. You're just…" Sherlock catches himself in the admission.

"Just what?" Mycroft presses.

"Better." Sherlock leans over and holds his fingers against his lips. "You always were."

"You're a better detective than me." Mycroft mimics Sherlock's pose and looks up at his face. Sherlock snorts sarcastically. "Let's go walk around a bit. I don't want to sleep anyways."

Sherlock glances at the window hesitantly, but slowly stands. He shakes John's shoulder. "Mycroft and I are going out. Won't be long."

John sits up, rubbing his eyes. "Alright." He yawns and stretches.

Sherlock puts his coat on and walks to the door. "Coming Mycroft?"

Mycroft looks over his girls and then at John, who nods. He'd protect them. "Yeah. I'm coming."

"He doesn't mind. I promise." Sherlock takes Mycroft's shoulder and squeezes it. "They're perfectly safe. So." Sherlock closes the door and glances out into the dark parking lot. "Why we out here? Did something else happen in your dream?"

Mycroft takes the stairs down to the parking lot. "No, just need to walk. You were just massacred before my eyes."

"I thought you'd be used to that by now. Besides, I always come back." Sherlock struggles to keep up with Mycroft's swift pace. "Slow down would you?"

"You're still human Sherlock. Humans do die eventually." Mycroft slows his pace slightly.

"That's what they want you to think."

"But they do. Our older brother did. Our unborn sister did."

Sherlock stops. "What was Sherrinford like? I never got the chance to meet him."

Mycroft walks back to meet Sherlock. "He was the kind of man to look up to. Strong, kind, brave. It was a shock to find out bravery was his downfall."

"What happened?"

"He was a soldier, like John, but he fought close to the front lines. One night, the enemy bombed his base. Never even found a body. There was nothing left but his dog tags which were found nearly a kilometer away." Mycroft turns and continues to walk toward a park nearby.

Sherlock follows close behind. "How do we know he was there when it exploded?"

"One of the other bases. A member of the brigade saw him there. Saw the base destroyed."

Sherlock lowers his eyes. "Oh."

"It was a war. No one can be sure of anything. But if he were alive, wouldn't he have come back to us by now?"

"It took me several years, didn't it?"

"Sure, but the war's been over for almost 30 years."

"Were we really that far apart? How old was I?"

"You may have been about three when we got the news."

Sherlock continued walking, taking the lead on the path around the park. "And that's all he was? Just someone to look up to. How did Father treat him?"

"Like he was God." Mycroft fell into a powerwalk, already starting to forget the nightmare he'd woken from.

"For some reason, that doesn't surprise me. Did you actually look up to him, or was that Father telling you to?"

"I looked up to him. Father didn't become… Father, until Sherrinford left. He was a nice man until Share announced he'd signed up for the military to pay for school. Father wanted him to take over the family business."

"If Sherrinford was alive, do you think Father would have…"

"Probably not." Mycroft slows his pace and puts his hands behind his head.

"Right. Feeling better yet?"

"Yeah. It's nice not being cooped up." They come to a park bench and sit down to rest.

"Smoke?" Sherlock holds out Mycroft's pack of cigarettes.

"Just finished a run and already making it harder for me to breathe?" Mycroft rolls his eyes amused. "Sure, why not. These are unusual circumstances. Why not keep it unusual?" Mycroft takes the pack and hands one cigarette back to Sherlock.

Sherlock lights both smokes. "It's going to take a while to get me back off of these. God, why did I start?" Sherlock shakes his head and takes a deep breath of smoke.

"It's my fault. I wasn't there for you. You were being rejected everywhere. You got stressed and began using. Cigarettes were just the beginning." Mycroft breathes out the smoke watching it dissipate above him. "I shouldn't have let my anger out on you. I was supposed to be there for you, and I wasn't."

"It wasn't your fault I started using, Mye."

"Too bad. I'm taking the blame."

Sherlock drops his head back against the bench. "God, you're as stubborn as Father."

"But not quite so uptight?" Mycroft smiles at Sherlock's snort of laughter and breathes in another puff. "Mummy would be furious with us."

"We're grown. What she doesn't know won't kill her."

The two sat in silence for a few minutes. It was Mycroft who broke the silence. "She came back for you, you know. Mary did. However, you were so caught up in your drugs and 'under the counter' detective cases, you failed to notice that crucial detail. She needed someone to pay attention to her. And I… hey, are you okay?" Sherlock was staring off, seemingly not hearing anything Mycroft was saying, and his hand was shaking so hard he couldn't get the fag back in his mouth.

"Yeah… fine. Just… th-thinking." Sherlock clears his throat. "Thinking."

"How many have you had?" Mycroft asks, gesturing to the cigarette between Sherlock's fingers.

"Inc-including this o-one?" Sherlock lifts a hand to count on one hand but it's shaking so badly, he puts it under one leg. "Six."

"Give it to me." Mycroft holds out his hand.

"What's wr-wrong with th-that? I used to be-be a chain-s-smoker, remember?"

"And you've been clean for 10 months now. You're not used to all the nicotine, and certainly not that much in the span of three hours." Mycroft stomps out his cigarette on the sidewalk.

"I've used a dozen patches in an hour. I'm f-fine. Just let me have th-this one. I'll be-be okay."

"Give me the rest."

"You t-took the p-pack back."

"Sherlock. I know you kept a few. Give them here." Mycroft looks at Sherlock over top of his nose. Sherlock rolls his eyes and pulls three from his coat pocket. "Thank you." He returns them to the pack and puts it away.

"Whatever." Sherlock mumbles and sucks the last bit out of his smoke before stomping it out as well.

"Have you taken anything else tonight?"

Sherlock shakes his head. "I'm clean, Mye. I s-stopped everything a long t-time ago."

"Just had to check."

"That sh-shouldn't concern y-you." Sherlock stood from the bench.

"I'm always concerned. I worry about you constantly." Mycroft follows Sherlock's example and the two start to walk toward the park entrance.

"You shouldn't."

"And yet, I do." They arrive back at the motel just as the sky is beginning to lighten. "Stay here. I'm going to grab Caroline so she can see this once before we're separated." Mycroft heads inside and comes back with Caroline's sleepy form in his arms.

"Morning Care."

Caroline yawns. "Morning Uncle Sherlock."

"Think you can handle the roof?" Mycroft asks Sherlock.

"Sure."

"The roof?" Caroline looks up.

Mycroft smiles down at Caroline. "Don't worry. I'll keep him far from the edge." They make their way around the side of the building where there's a ladder attached to the wall. Mycroft sets Caroline down and she climbs up behind Sherlock, Mycroft bringing up the rear. Once up, they find a place to sit and Mycroft pulls Caroline into his lap. "Ready?" Caroline nods and they watch the sunrise in silence. Caroline leaps up just as the sun breaks the horizon and begins to light up the entire world. Mycroft instinctively grabs for her but misses as she runs for the edge.

She stops, her hands on the brick wall. "Wow!"

"Told you it'd be worth it." Mycroft steps up beside her and admires the light. Caroline nods enthusiastically, a huge smile on her face. After a moment, Mycroft turns to Sherlock. "How did you do it?"

"Do what?" Sherlock blinks in the sunlight and Mycroft moves so his shadow is over Sherlock's face.

"Fall."

"You sure we should discuss this in front of Caroline?"

Caroline turns and takes Mycroft's hand. "I've been wondering that too. Heights are scary."

"You mean, just how I fell? Not lived or anything? Just how I made myself fall? I just… closed my eyes, told myself John needed it, and… plummeted."

"Why did John need you to die?" Caroline steps up onto Mycroft's feet and he grabs her other hand to help her keep balanced.

Sherlock kneels in front of Caroline. "There was a very bad man that would have hurt John if I didn't do it."

"I'm not stupid Sherlock. You can tell me who, and why."

"I don't think your mother or father would appreciate me telling you." Sherlock glances briefly up to Mycroft.

"I can take it. I'm not a kid." Caroline thrusts out her bottom lip and tries to look tough.

"He was, and is, a mad man." Mycroft stepped back, trying to shake Caroline off but she just steps with him.

"No madder than me. I just have more control." Sherlock stands.

"You didn't break into every building in London just to sit on a throne and wear a crown."

"No, but it's something I may have done, given more beatings from Father."

"Our father… won't do anything else." Mycroft lifts Caroline up by her arms and lowers her to the rooftop, walking back to the edge. At first, he doesn't see anything, but then a man catches his eye. He observes him carefully and then something clicks. It was him. "Sherlock!"

"What?"

"It's that man. The one I was telling you about."

Sherlock looks to where Mycroft is pointing. He pulls Mycroft and Caroline back. "Go, get everyone in the car. Do it, now."

"Baby, I want you to run. Get Mommy and John. Tell them we have to go. Can you do that?" Caroline nods at Mycroft's urgent tone. She squeezes her eyes shut and climbs down the ladder.

Sherlock grabs Mycroft's arm as he moves to follow. "Get them all to the airport. They'll be heading out today. John knows the ticket numbers. I'll pack up everything and meet you there. Do you understand?"

"Yes. But what if he finds you?"

Sherlock looks Mycroft dead in the eyes. "I don't matter at the moment."

"There won't be anyone to save you."

"I don't care!"

Mycroft stands to his full height. "Well I do."

"Mycroft don't fight me! Just do as I say."

"But Sherlock…"

Sherlock pushes Mycroft to the ladder. "Just go."

Mycroft fights back. "Fine, but you have to take this." He pulls out his gun and hands it to Sherlock.

"Guns and I don't mix." He pushes the gun back, but Mycroft insists.

"Take it or I'm not leaving."

"Goddamn it Mye!"

"Take the fucking gun Sherlock." Mycroft presses it into Sherlock's hand and turns to the ladder, climbing on. "Point, and shoot. I know you've done it before."

"Doesn't mean I like to do it."

"God, you're impossible. I'm going now. Just don't die on me. I'll see you in a few hours."

Sherlock calls down the ladder, "I'll get a new phone and text you in our code."

Mycroft pauses his descent and nods. "I'm trusting you."

Song: Easy Life - Nightmares