Fading out

Not so limited after all

Parents.

Mummy Holmes was busy looking through her collection of wool and patterns, she wanted to knit Euros something nice, that white scrubs she is wearing really isn't that nice. And maybe some slippers too. Her eyes wandered around the room, the albums on the shelf, and the new pictures in the frames. Now that Sherlock is aware of Euros and the truth, they no longer have to hide her away. They got their daughter back, her baby girl. Just thinking about it, brought a smile to her face. A dark pink, it would complement her long hair. All her children were born with a great bush of hair, well Mycroft not so much, he is even getting bald in places that are probably his father's side of the family, and Uncle Rudy went bald as well.

As her thoughts went to her eldest, her smile slowly fell from her mouth, what was the boy thinking? How could he do that to them? Rudolph she could understand, he was always different, thinking logically and efficient but Mycroft, that was hard to believe.

He was such a soft young boy, always helpful, always volunteering to look after his brother and sister, Euros ignored him and didn't want to play with him, but Sherlock? Sherlock adored him. Then he met Victor and Mycroft became silent, always keeping himself busy, always alone to the side. That beach holiday he spent more time skipping stones that playing and running around with his brother and sister.

It all went wrong when Victor disappeared, and Euros became so strange and then the fire.

"I was trying to be kind." That's what he said when the truth came out, he tried to protect them and she called him limited. Thinking back she may have overreacted, but how are you supposed to act when you find out your one child hide the existence of another for so many years? Even if she was ill. And she was; she wouldn't kill just a bunch of people for fun. Oh what is she thinking, feeling her heart break she sat down on the bed, the pink wool clutched in her hand. Her daughter was a killer, just like Mycroft said the other day, her son is a lot of things, but he would never lock someone away if he didn't had a good reason, and that place, what she did at a young age... Maybe he did the best he could, after all, he was young when Rudy took him in, maybe it was his influence that made Mycroft kept the secret. That has to be it.

He looked so broken that day in his office, telling them the secret he kept for nearly all his life, that couldn't be easy. Maybe she should call him, no; she would just get angry all over again. She needed time. Time to process the fact that she has three children again, and not two, that one tried to kill the one, that one is forever locked away, so many things to come to terms with.

"Mummy, Father. Will you ever forgive me?" He sounded so defeated in that moment and she couldn't give him the answer he needed, he surely knows something like this will take time?

The phone rang in the house and she could hear her husband picking it up, if it is another telesales, she is asking Mycroft to block her phone to the marketing agencies. She stood up and made her way down the hallway, her husband was silent, not sales then. Entering the room she stopped, her husband stood rigid the phone in his hand, his knuckles white as he held the receiver. Something happened, something terrible.

"What is it?" She asked softly, her husband turned to her and she opened her mouth in shock, her husband was crying, silent tears running down his face. Did something happen to Euros? They just got her back? To Sherlock? He is always running around on some adventure.

"Mycroft…" Her heart skipped a beat as she slowly stepped closer to him.

"No…" Her eyes filled with tears, was he hurt, in an accident.

"He's dead."

She stared at her husband, no, this is some kind of sick joke, she just got all her children back, her two sons and her daughter, there is no way she lost one now.

"What…when…how…?" She croaked through her tears, her husband walked to her, holding his arms out to comfort her, but she fought him, no, Mycroft is not dead, he is the dependable one, the one always there! He isn't dead.

But he was.

She fell against his chest, holding him tight.

Sherlock confirmed it two days later, he saw the body. He is dead, her boy, her eldest son was dead, no make believe, no fake, dead as in dead, his body in a coffin underground with a tombstone.

They stayed at John's flat for the funeral, Mycroft's house was empty, Sherlock is very quiet and she didn't know how to reach him, it was with a shock she realized that this is usually the moment where she would get Mycroft involved, he would deal with Sherlock, he would try to talk to Sherlock and get him whatever he needed, but this time he cant. It looks as if Sherlock is keeping something from them, about his death, but she didn't know what it was. But she will figure it out, she knows she will.

Lady Smallwood met with them in her office, explaining more what happened and the arrangements, he wanted a very small funeral, in fact he said it would be feasible if no one came, he most certainly didn't want any flowers, so there would be no flowers. One glance and she knew that Lady Smallwood blamed her and she couldn't hold it against her, it took her one look at Sherlock to know just how much she relied on Mycroft to look after him. One conversations was necessary for her to realize just how much Mycroft did, that he not only ruled the government, but that he has been protecting Sherlock since he was a child, that she in fact made a huge mistake in calling him limited, because now she realized the truth was, that she was the limited one, he was unlimited in his kindness and responsibility in looking after all of them. He was the one to make the hard decisions with Rudolph all those years ago, and she should've been there for him. Mycroft was only constraint was the limitations that his family placed on him, and that was in fact testament to their character, not his.

Standing in front of his open grave, she cried, not only for losing her son, but for not seeing the truth when she had a chance, for not realizing the facts when she was supposed to. She cried for the grief at not telling him, he was forgiven, for not being the mom she was supposed to be. She cried for the guilt in knowing he died, under the impression he was despised by all of them, they played their part in that, she cried because even though he died with the idea that he wasn't good enough, she cried because she was responsible for that idea, she was responsible for hurting her son so much that he chose death over them, she knew it wasn't a random attack, that he could've prevented it, if he wanted to. He didn't because he tried to get back some respect, some forgiveness for his actions and decisions that was never his to make. It was hers, and her husband, and the wrong person paid a debt he was never in debt for.

She looked at her living son, the pain in his eyes, the sorrow and the guilt that he was carrying as well. "I understand. I will wait patiently for the day we can be a proper family again." He understood the day he said those words it would never happen, and he still said it to comfort his parents, to comfort her, so she didn't had to carry that guilt, and that in all likelihood filled her with more guilt and grief. He asked for forgiveness and she didn't give it to him, and she never asked for forgiveness, yet he gave it to her.