Brother's Grim

"I expected a more of a pleasant greeting after not seeing my dear brother for so long." Mycroft said pleasantly, swinging his umbrella around as he spoke. There was a smile on his face that I did not like. He turned his attention to me. "Sorry I forgot to bring any flowers or grapes for you John. I trust you're feeling better?"

I'm not sure what to say to this. I'm still trying to work out how he found out we were here. But then again, it's Mycroft.

Just then, Harry came back in the room, a cup of steaming-hot coffee in her hands. She looked just as surprised to see Mycroft as we were.

"Who's this?" She asks, sitting back on the wooden chair next to me.

Mycroft's smile widened as at the sight of my sister. "And this must be Miss Harriet Watson! So pleased to see that you've patched things together with your brother now. And I must congratulate you, five months it must be now without a drop of alcohol. Very impressive."

Harry's mouth fell open and she stared, wide-eyed at Mycroft.

My anger started bubbling up inside of me at the thought of Mycroft scaring my sister with his mysterious knowledge, a broad smile still on his face as if he had the right to. I remember the first time he did it to me.

But it was Sherlock who spoke first. "That's enough Mycroft." He snapped. "What are you doing here?"

Mycroft's smile fell a little. "Some things don't change at all with you do they Sherlock? You're not even pleased to see me! I'm pleased to see you, it's not every day you find out your brother managed to survive throwing himself off a building."

It was my turn to stare, but at Sherlock rather than Mycroft. After Sherlock had come back I knew he hadn't seen his brother and explained everything to him, but over time I had assumed that Mycroft knew Sherlock was alive. Mycroft was the one who knew all the secrets, it could have been possible that he knew all along Sherlock was alive, and even if he didn't, they were brothers, surely Sherlock would have given Mycroft at least a hint that he was OK?

Clearly not.

"Sherlock, why didn't you say something to him?" I demanded.

Sherlock shrugged as if it was nothing. "I've been busy, and besides, I didn't want the assassin to have someone else to chase after if all failed."

"Well John, it's nice that you've decided to stick up for me." Mycroft said, "It seems you're in a more forgiving mood since we last met."

Oh yes, I had almost forgot about my last encounter with Mycroft. Almost. It puts me in a bad mood to be carted off into the middle of nowhere at his request any day, but I was in mourning for my friend, and I blamed Mycroft for killing his brother.

Of course I don't think that anymore, because Sherlock was never dead. Although perhaps if it wasn't for him my friend wouldn't have been forced to disappear off the face of the earth for twelve weeks. Mycroft probably still didn't care about people either, so why was he here? Perhaps he had a point to prove.

"Doesn't mean none of what had happened was your fault," I told Mycroft bitterly. "You still gave Moriarty the cards to play with against your own brother."

Mycroft's smile fell a little further. His eyes glanced down at the floor, as if he was actually feeling guilty.

There was a long silence.

"So, now you've been able to upset almost everyone in the room," Harry said suddenly, making Mycroft look up. "Perhaps you would like to tell us what you're doing here Mr Holmes? And perhaps as soon as you do, the sooner you can leave."

Mycroft gave Harry a look that was close to a glare, but she had just said what was on all our minds.

"Well, I came here for nothing really," Mycroft explained calmly. "I just came to make sure that you two are all right."

"Oh come on Mycroft, you're a better liar than that!" Sherlock snapped again.

Mycroft sighed, his eyes looked almost sad. "That's the trouble with you Sherlock," he said. "As soon as we became rivals, you never stopped to think about whether there was a part of me that actually still cared for you. Why else do you think I keep on trying to hire people to spy on you or keep on knocking at the Baker Street door? It's not for my own amusement, and it's not for my own benefit, although you may think it is. It's because I'm actually worried about you. I actually still care about you."

I don't know whether the man was trying to deceive us, but Mycroft actually sounded like he cared about his brother. For the first time, I think Mycroft is actually being truly honest about what he thinks about his brother.

"I suppose you didn't consider what might have been going through my head when I picked up the newspaper one day and discovered that you had just committed suicide? And then your friend turns up, claiming that I was the one who caused you to go over the edge. And perhaps he was right. For a little while I thought that you weren't actually dead, because it's not like my little brother to give up without a fight. But weeks went by, then months, and when I heard nothing from you, not a single word, I assumed you had actually died. Did you assume for all that time that I didn't care about the fact that you were dead? Well I did, I may have hid it from the world but really, I was in mourning for my brother. "

There was a pang inside of me, and I realised I actually felt sorry for Mycroft. At the time I didn't realise he also blamed himself for the apparent death of his brother, and I gave him a hard time for it, when really he was in mourning for Sherlock. It's hard to trust what that man says, but I can see it in his eyes, he feels sad and betrayed that his brother pretended to die but never actually told him the truth, just like how I felt.

Sherlock in the meantime, was busy staring at the wall, and didn't seem to care about what his brother was saying.

"And then all of a sudden a colleague rings me up in the middle of the night," Mycroft continued, "because he had just found out that a Dr John Watson had been admitted to hospital, along with Sherlock Holmes, my brother, only my brother was dead. So of course I came straight here."

Sherlock raised a disbelieving eyebrow, "colleague?"

"Ok, so maybe I did have a few people keeping an eye on John to make sure he was all right, and they called me up when an ambulance suddenly appeared at 221B Baker Street."

There was a pause, in which I thought Sherlock was thinking over what he had just been told. Perhaps he's going to apologise or give Mycroft an explanation.

Unfortunately not.

"Well, now you've discovered that we're both alive and well you can go back to whatever you're doing at the moment." Sherlock commented lightly, "thanks for visiting."

Mycroft's face fell, clearly his confession had not hit home for Sherlock.

"But Sherlock-" a stunned-looking Harry spoke quietly. "This is your brother. Surely you can't turn away from him after everything?"

"Sorry, but when you've known him as long as I have, it's hard to trust him at all," Sherlock muttered bitterly.

I often wonder what went wrong between these two to make Sherlock despise Mycroft so much, and Mycroft to pretend that he didn't care about his brother at all. Until now. And yet Sherlock still didn't want to know.

"I should say the same to you after you disappeared for months and pretended to be dead. I could have helped you, you know I would have been happy to help-"

"Well I didn't need your help!" Sherlock snaps.

"Oh for goodness sake Sherlock!" It's my turn to snap now. "You managed to help me patch things up with my sister, why can't you two do the same? Admit it, you didn't tell Mycroft you were still alive because you thought the same thing would happen to him as it eventually happened to us - someone will come along and take revenge for Moriarty and your brother will be in danger. Well Moriarty's dead now and so is the assassin that tried to kill us, so there's no more danger. Why don't you just take this opportunity to bury the hatchet?"

Harry nodded in agreement beside me. "He has a point you know, I've only been in this room with you two for about ten minutes and I'm thinking the same thing."

Mycroft smiled, it must be nice for him to have someone on his side this often. Believe me I would not be saying any of this if Sherlock wasn't alive beside me or Mycroft hadn't shown any remorse. But I trust what Mycroft told us.

Sherlock though, didn't look too convinced. "I don't know what a hatchet has to do with anything..." he began.

"Never mind about the hatchet." I said quickly. "Can't you two just try and get along a bit more?"

"You know he's right Sherlock," Mycroft said. This didn't impress Sherlock, I have a feeling he's going back into his being a five-year-old mood. "How about you come and have dinner with me and my family next week? No cases in the way, no rivalry, just two brothers with the rest of the family."

I could see on Sherlock's face that he was trying to think of reasons for not spending time with his brother that Mycroft couldn't argue against. He didn't seem to be getting very far, especially with three other people in the room staring at him.

"You know, I do remember a time when we did get on. I suppose we could give ourselves a chance to find out why." Sherlock murmured, more to himself than to Mycroft, avoiding the eyes of everyone else in the room.

Mycroft smiled at his success. "Wonderful. You're welcome to come as well John."

"Dinner with the whole of the Holmes family? I'll have to think about it," I admit, I see Sherlock smile amusingly out of the corner of my eye.

"Very well," Mycroft replied, still smiling. "I think I've spent enough of your time here now, I have some important business to do. I'm sure I'll see you around John, Harriet," he nodded to both of us, "and I'll see you next week Sherlock, I'll text you the details." He added, just as he turned to leave, umbrella swinging in his hand.

"As always." Sherlock commented, but Mycroft had already gone.

It's only two days since Mycroft's sudden appearance that I am dismissed from the hospital. I'm relieved, not wanting to be stuck in bed any longer, or trapped in a small space with Sherlock any more. Harry couldn't stay all the time because she had to work, but she came as often as she could. Sherlock didn't have to go anywhere, so he stayed put, and once again I couldn't help but feel grateful.

I didn't have any more visitors other than Mycroft and Harry, only Mrs Hudson who came to see us for a few hours, who brought along cake and almost cried at the sight of me in hospital, she calmed down a little after some cake. I'm looking forward to seeing her again when we finally get back to Baker Street.

But as it turned out, I was going to have one more visitor before I managed to get home.

It's the last few minutes of me being in my little hospital room, I'm grateful to be back in my normal clothes and having a stomach feeling slightly less sore, but the stitches had not yet been removed.

Sherlock stands by the door, waiting as patiently as possible, but I can tell he's desperate to go home. I'm just putting on my coat when I hear the door open, I turn, expecting to see that Sherlock has already left the room, getting fed up of staying still for too long and going to get us a TAXI.

But Sherlock was still in the room, two more people had come in the room. I stared.

Lestrade and Donovan were standing in the doorway, both looking rather grim. I'm just about to ask what they're doing here, but Lestrade answers that question for me.

"Sherlock Holmes, you're under arrest."

For some reason, I don't think I'm going to leave just yet.

Sorry for this dull chapter, I kept on getting stuck on being able to write what I wanted to say! I know it wasn't anything very exciting so instead of starting the next chapter with John about to go home I decided to put it on the end of this one to make it more interesting.

We're almost at the end of the story now people! D: but there are still a couple more chapters to go :)

Anyway, hope this chapter wasn't too bad, reviews much appreciated! :)