I love you Mye.
-SH

Mycroft reads the text over and over as Sherrinford holds him, tears streaming from his eyes. Sherrinford slowly pulls himself from Mycroft. "It's been half an hour. He's not coming out. We should go."

Mycroft nods and stands. His foot kicks something and he glances down at his feet where the gun lay abandoned. "You should probably hold onto that." Sherrinford reaches down and shoves the gun into his pocket.

"I'm sorry. I really am. He was a pain in the arse, and wouldn't shut up to save his life, but he was bright. His loss is a tragedy."

Mycroft doesn't seem to be listening and punches a nearby tree. "He lied to me!" Mycroft yells anger taking over the sadness in his chest.

"Come on Mycro. Let's get inside somewhere." Sherrinford leads Mycroft to a café and sits him down. He clears his throat and the waitress, who was busy watching the news coverage of the airport explosion, looks over.

"Oh, sorry." She makes her way to their table. "What can I get you boys?" A piece of hair pokes out from under her uniform bandana and she pokes it back in place.

"Two coffees please."

"Black?"

"I'll have mine with cream. Mycro?" Sherrinford turns to Mycroft who simply grunts, examining his lightly bleeding hand. "Black for him. And can we get a cup of water with some paper napkins?" She nods and leaves. "Hey. Look at me. You'll be alright." Mycroft averts his gaze. The waitress returns with their order and places it on the table. Sherrinford bows his head in thanks and she leaves again, returning to watch the news. Mycroft stares into his cup but makes no move to pick it up or drink it. "Mycroft." Sherrinford sighs. "Maybe you should call John. Talk to your daughter. They should have landed by now."

"Sure. Yeah." He fumbles with his phone for a minute, trying to recall John's phone number before dialing it. "John. It's Mycroft. Is Caroline with you?"

"Yeah. She's here. We're just leaving the airport. You arrived alright then?"

"Fine. May I speak with her?"

John hands the phone over to Caroline. "Daddy?"

"Hi baby." Mycroft's eyes brim with tears at the sound of his daughter's sweet voice. "I need you to go somewhere private okay. I have to tell you something and John can't hear."

"Sure. He just stepped away to get a cab for us."

"This is a secret. You can't tell John. Not yet. Promise?"

"Pinkie promise."

Mycroft flexes his pinkie in response and breathes out deeply. "You're probably going to hear about it soon, but there was an explosion…" Mycroft's voice catches in his throat and he struggles to clear it. "Sherlock…"

Caroline interrupts. "He left John a message. Is Uncle Sherly okay?"

Mycroft startles. "Did you hear what it said?"

"No. But whatever he said made John really mad."

"He must have called before detonation. Listen, Caroline. I'm not 100% certain but until we know for sure, I need you to protect John. Keep him from hearing too much about the airport. If something happened to him, Sherlock wouldn't want John to mourn. And I don't want him hurt again. Not while he's got you to look out for."

"Alright Daddy." She was definitely trying to hide it, but Mycroft could tell she was choking back tears.

"That's my girl."

"I miss you Daddy."

"I miss you too. We'll be together again soon. Call me if you need anything. Or if you hear anything. Seems like…" Mycroft didn't want to even entertain the idea that Sherlock was still alive. It would just make it hurt more if it turned out to be false.

"Seems like what?"

"Nothing. Just a passing thought. I'll talk to you later alright? I love you so much."

"I love you too Daddy. Bye." Caroline hangs up the phone and Mycroft lowers his hand, resting it on the table.

"Feel better?" He looks up, forgetting that Sherrinford was sitting across from him.

"Hm? Oh. A little."

Sherrinford dips the napkin in the water and gently wipes Mycroft's knuckles. "Anything I can do?"

Mycroft pulls his hand away. "Thanks, but no." He picks up his cup of coffee and downs it, ignoring the fact that it was still piping hot.

"You don't have to put up a front with me. You just lost your brother. It's supposed to hurt."

Mycroft shakes his head and stands, dropping some money on the table. "Caring isn't an advantage. It's a weakness manifested in lesser men."

"I'm sorry you feel that way."

"Let's just get going. I don't want to keep hearing about the airport." He tips his head in the direction of the TV.

They leave the café and walk in silence for a few blocks. Suddenly, Sherrinford speaks, "Hey, got a fag?" Mycroft pulls his pack out and hands it over. "Thanks." He sticks one between his lips and lights it. "Haven't had one of these in months," he mumbles and hands the pack back to Mycroft. "You know, it sucks, having only one functioning hand."

"What happened? You never got around to telling me that story."

Sherrinford holds up his lame hand and stares at it as he speaks, bringing back the memories one at a time. "Started with the bunker bombing. Third degree burns. They administered first aid when they picked me up but used it as a form of torture later on. Burning it over and over to remind me why I must always succeed my mission. To make me forget where the burns truly came from. Got to hand it to them. Utilizing PTSD in prisoners of war is genius."

"I'm glad you're back." Mycroft grabs his brother's shoulder and steps past him. "There's a hotel up ahead. Let's bunker down there and rest for the night. We'll decide what to do in the morning." Sherrinford agrees and they check into their room.

"Mind if I shower?"

Mycroft shakes his head. "Fine by me."

"Don't do anything stupid, alright?"

"Wouldn't dream of it," Mycroft sighs and sits on the edge of the bed. His head is pounding but he welcomes the pain. Just as the shower turns on, he lays back, staring at the ceiling. When he was a kid, he and Sherrinford had found shapes in the texture. Mycroft smiles lightly, recalling the argument about a particular shape being a rabbit versus a duck. Then his smile dropped. Things weren't that simple anymore. He wasn't sure they ever would be again. Mycroft places his phone and wallet on the bedside table, sure to have the picture of Mary and Caroline open as he drifts off into a troubled sleep.

Sherlock steps tentatively up to the door of the flat. It'd been a while since the last time he'd seen her, but he felt it prudent to stop here first. He raps on the door twice and hears a chair slide back across the floor. The door unlocks and a girl about five with dirty blonde hair opens it. "Hi, is your mom here?" She looks up at Sherlock with scared eyes and turns back to look inside the house. The door blocks his view, but Sherlock can hear approaching footsteps.

"Who is it Love?" Molly Hooper steps into view and freezes at the sight of Sherlock. "Sherlock!" She starts, grabbing at her escaping breath.

"Hi Molly." Sherlock attempts a smile. "Can I come in?"

"Yes, yes of course, come in." Molly holds the door open and Sherlock steps inside. "Can I take your coat or…something?"

"That's alright. I'm not staying long." Sherlock eyes the little girl who hides behind Molly. "You may not remember me. Last time I saw you, you were just about this big." Sherlock spreads his hands out to what would be the size of a 1 year old. The girl simply shy's further behind Molly's leg.

"It's okay Rosie. This is Sherlock. He's a friend." Molly puts a hand behind Rosie and pushes her lightly.

Sherlock kneels down to her height. "Nice to formerly meet you." He holds out a gloved hand which Rosie takes tentatively. "Sherlock Holmes. I… I used to work with your parents."

"Rosamund. But everybody just calls me Rosie." She takes her hand back and nervously sucks on the side of her finger.

"Rosie. Why don't you go play while I talk with Sherlock for a minute?" Molly ushers Rosie off and Sherlock stands. "Why are you here?"

"Came to check on you."

"For you or for John?"

"I'm coming of my own accord if that's what you're asking."

Molly crosses her arms and shifts her weight to one leg, concern showing between her eyebrows. "What did you do?"

"Nothing. Nothing. Everything's fine."

"You know you can't lie to me right? What happened to John? He's not-"

"No. He had to fly out of country for a bit but he's alive and well."

Molly walks into her sitting room and takes a seat by the window. "Then why have you come?"

Sherlock doesn't answer, instead opting to examine the family photos which hang in the entryway. The first shows Molly and her then boyfriend holding Rosie in front of a large park tree. Molly had adopted Rosie when she was barely a year old. John had fallen into a deep depression as they approached his wedding anniversary and left Rosie uncared for. Due to the timely arrival of Mrs. Hudson, who'd come to check on the boys, Rosie lived. The godparents met to discuss what should happen with the child. John certainly couldn't. Her presence was tearing him apart day by day. Sherlock was in no state to care for a child, and while Mrs. Hudson offered to take Rosie, it was decided that Molly would be the best candidate to raise a child. John signed over the adoption papers and Rosie was all hers. Rosamund Mary Hooper. "For the best," Sherlock mumbled, moving to the next photo.

"What was that?" Molly asks, stepping up behind Sherlock.

"What? Oh. Nothing. Just thinking."

Molly took Sherlock's hand kindly as he looked at the next photo. Christmas day. Rosie was older now and had gotten a doctor's set. She was listening to the cat's heartbeat in front of the decorated tree. "She's thinking of being a vet when she gets older."

Sherlock looks skeptically at Molly. "A child's first choice is rarely the end result."

"Maybe that's true, but she isn't so different from John deep inside."

"You see similarities where there are none. Children pick up traits from the adults they trust. You are-"

"Why do you always have to take things so literally?" Molly drops Sherlock's hand. There was anger in her voice, but the look in her eyes was more along the lines of pity.

"I tell things as they are. That is all." Sherlock turns back to the pictures. The rest show Rosie in cliché scenarios; fishing with grandad, first day of school, hanging upside down on a tire swing. She's had a good childhood with Molly as her mother. "You've been well?"

"Of course I have. Why-?"

Sherlock interrupts, "I blew up the airport," Molly was silent. "There was a bomb and I… I tried to disarm it, to save John, which I did, but-"

"You can't leave well enough alone can you?" Sherlock's chest tightened at her words. She reminded him of John in this moment, scolding him for trying to show off. "You will always be the thrill seeker, searching for new ways to get your high. What about all the people who love you? What happens to them? How long before they die by your foolishness?" She had tears in her eyes now. Sherlock reaches out, but Molly dodges his advance. "You're smarter than this Sherlock. When are you going to start acting like it?"

"I'm sorry Molly. I had to try."

"Had to huh? Had to?" Molly shoves Sherlock and he stumbles back. "Rosie and I are fine. Thanks for stopping by. Tell John hello for me." She turns on her heel and storms off. Taking the hint, Sherlock leaves quietly.

As promised, Sherlock calls John at seven on the dot, using a brand-new phone he purchased with cash. Caroline answers. "Hello?"

"Hey baby, I need to talk to John. Is that alright?"

"He's out getting dinner. Uncle Sherlock? Daddy said you died."

"I'm very not dead. A little singed sure, but alive." Sherlock sighs. "When will he be back? I told him seven."

"I don't know. He left 45 minutes ago. Said he'd only be 15. Left his phone for me in case Mummy or Daddy called."

"He left you alone?"

"I'm fine."

"You're too young to be left on your own." Sherlock made a mental note to scold John as soon as he got ahold of him. "Did he say exactly where he was going?"

"No, but the Belgian food market was about 10 minutes from here. He probably got caught up."

"I want you to stay on the line with me until he gets back. Alright?"

"Fine. This show was getting boring anyway. Too predictable."

Sherlock chuckles. "What time did you speak with your father?"

"About 4 this afternoon."

"Okay. Is there a phone in the room you can call him on?"

"Other than this one?"

Sherlock sighs. "I'll take that as a no. Okay. I want you to call him and then call me right back."

"What do I say?"

"What do you normally say? Just check on him. Make sure he's doing okay. Don't mention anything about me. Can you do that?"

"Of course I can. Talk to you soon." Caroline hangs up the phone and calls up Mycroft. "Hi Daddy."

"Caroline? Is everything okay?" Mycroft yawns. He must have been woken by the call.

"Yes. John went to get dinner. Left his phone in case you or Mummy called but figured I shouldn't be left alone. Have you talked to Mummy yet?" Caroline jumps back on the bed and settles into the squishy pillow.

"Not yet. I got a hotel here and went right to bed. I'll call her first thing in the morning."

"Don't you want to know if she landed safely?"

Mycroft was taken aback. "Of course. With everything that happened at the airport, it must have slipped my mind."

Caroline frowned. "I'm sure she'd call if something was amiss. She's probably tired too."

"I'm sure. She's had a long day." Mycroft breathed out. "I want you to stay on the phone until John comes back."

Caroline thinks quickly, she was supposed to call Sherlock. "Daddy, I'm going to have to call you back. I think John might be trying to call his phone."

"Okay. Have him call me right when you're done. I love you."

"I love you too." She hangs up quickly and calls Sherlock back.

"Caroline?"

"Yup."

"What did he say?"

"He went to get a hotel and fell asleep without calling Mummy."

"Thank you Caroline. Did he seem… not himself?"

"Other than being tired, no. I was a little worried that he hadn't tried to call Mummy yet."

"I'm sure he just forgot. Nothing to worry about. Any sign of John?"

"Nothing. Yet."

"Dammit John!"

"Don't swear Uncle Sherly. I'm fine, I promise. If anyone were to break in, I'm small enough and smart enough to get away."

"But what if a monster were to climb out of the toilet? Would you be able to handle that?"

Caroline's eyes widen. "I must close it!" She runs to the bathroom and slams the lid closed. "Stay in there Monster!"

"I was kidding," Sherlock laughs, "but I'm glad you're safe from the loo monsters."

Caroline runs back to the bedroom and jumps onto the bed, also laughing. "I know, but one can't be too careful." The two laugh for a minute longer before Caroline finally asks, "Why did Daddy think you were dead?"

Sherlock freezes at the question. "I… I probably should be." Caroline drops the phone when she hears footsteps approaching the door. "Caroline? Caroline, what is it?"

The lock jiggles and John enters, carrying two plastic bags, "John!" She jumps up and takes one of the bags. "What took you so long? You said you'd be back 45 minutes ago!"

"I'm sorry. Stopped to grab a disposable phone. Anyone call while I was out?" John sets the other bag on the bed beside the phone. Caroline runs over, trying to grab the phone away but John picks it up. "Sherlock?"

"Hi John." Sherlock says shyly.

"You complete and utter git! Fuck you. You fucking scared me to death!"

"Language around the girl John." John looks over at Caroline who had covered her ears. Sherlock continues, "I'm sorry. When I called you…I really thought it was the end for me."

John turns to address Caroline. "Carly, I want you to go out onto the balcony and shut the door please." She does as she's told and John turns back to the phone.

"Watch her through the window, will you?"

"It's a balcony, not a fire escape. There's not much that can happen to her. Quit changing the subject. Do you realize what would have happened if I lost you after another note like that? If I saw you on a slab somewhere after being murdered by a criminal mastermind, maybe I'd be okay, but you call me to tell me goodbye? Again? It was you that caused that explosion wasn't it? Oh, I should have guessed. I hate you Sherlock Holmes. I fucking hate you!"

"I know you don't hate me. I saved your life."

"At this moment, I really don't care. You don't have to risk your life to save mine. Do you know how it feels to lose the person you care most for? It sucks! I lost you for two years. I lost Mary. I lost Rosie, and now, I get on a plane and get off to find that I might have lost you again. You play this game like I'm not going to mind that you're dead again and play it off like you only did it to save me!"

"I did say I might survive, and that I'd call you. Why did you leave so close to the time I said I would call? And why the hell did you leave Caroline? She's much too young to be left alone! You of all people should know better."

John cringed at Sherlock's accusation. He was of course right. He'd lost Rosie for much the same reason, and this time, they were in a foreign country with terrorists after them. There's a knock on the window. Caroline is standing there, hugging herself and shivering. "God Sherlock. I can't deal with this right now. Caroline is standing in the cold. I'm going to bring her inside, warm her up and feed her. I'm done talking to you tonight."

"John don't go. Please."

"Goodbye Sherlock." John hangs up and tosses the phone aside. Caroline opens the door and John greets her with a blanket he pulls from the foot of the bed. He wraps her up and pulls her in close. "I'm sorry you had to hear that."

"I could hear you shouting through the glass. Don't you think you could have been a little nicer? Most people die without warning. In his last moments, he decided he wanted to call you and tell you goodbye. You should be grateful. He has a heart, but sometimes, he's not quite sure how to use it."

John blinks at Caroline, one eyebrow crinkled down. "He didn't have to risk his life for me. I'll bet he was just trying to show off and it backfired."

"With your life on the line? I don't think so. He loves you John."

"He…loves me?"

"Well, yeah. Didn't you know that? I've seen the way he looks at you."

John's face flushes slightly. "It's just…never mind. I'll call him in the morning and apologize."

"No. Call him now. Tomorrow might be too late."

"I can't do that. I'm still too heated. Let me sleep on it and I promise, the second I wake up, I'll call him."

"I'll do it for you. You need to tell him that you're sorry!" Caroline pulls away just as the phone starts to ring. "Sherlock?"

John picks the phone up, "No, it's your dad. Hello?"

"John! You're back. Thank God. Is Caroline there?" Mycroft sounds flustered.

"Of course. Why wouldn't she be?" Caroline climbs up onto the bed to listen.

"She called me earlier saying you weren't with her. She said she'd have you call me after getting off the phone with you and then I didn't hear back."

John looks at Caroline whose eyes widened. She'd forgotten about that. "Oh yeah. I called to let her know I was on my way back. She stayed on the phone with me and we were just about to start dinner." Caroline relaxes beside him. "Hey, have you heard from Sherlock yet?"

"Uh… yes. Why?"

Caroline grabs John's arm and gestures to cut the conversation. "Just checking."

"Has he talked to you?"

"N-no. I'm sure he'll reach out. He said he needed to get a new phone. The uh, assassins found him, so he didn't fly out. Typical Sherlock. Taking on the bad guys by himself." John lets out a nervous laugh.

"I'm sure everything is just fine. He's got the police involved, so I'm sure, now that we're all safely out of reach, it won't take long to disband the organization. I'll let you know right away if I hear anything." Mycroft was a good liar. "Give Care a kiss for me, would you? Goodnight John."

"Sure. Bye." John turns to Caroline. "You knew didn't you?"

Caroline goes white. "Daddy asked me to stop you finding out about Sherlock and Sherlock asked me not to tell him. I'm just a little girl! I can't take all these secrets!"

"It's alright Carly. You did a good job." He grabs her under his arm and gives her a noogie. "But you're not going to keep keeping secrets from me from now on right?"

Caroline laughs and tries to pull away. "No! No I promise." John lets go.

"Good. Now what do you say we make us some dinner huh?"

Song: Broken Promise - Scroobius Pip