While Sherlock was very uncharacteristically napping upstairs, John was alone in the sitting room with Mycroft. The whole situation was unsettling. Mrs Holmes kept talking to him as if she had raised the two brothers since they were born, unaware of his new knowledge of the situation. Sherlock, obviously, hadn't warned her he was about to reveal the truth to John, and had been too exhausted, when they had arrived, to say much before collapsing on his bad, fast asleep.
John looked at Mycroft who was quietly reading a book. Maybe he should tell him he knew about them being adopted, and ask him if he should tell it to the parents.
Untill then, John hadn't been very fond of Mycroft. He more or less saw him as a pompous git, annoyingly condescending with Sherlock. Even if his endless ressources and his genuine care for his younger brother made of him a necessary evil, John couldn't take kindly that at least two thirds of his words to Sherlock were criticisms or sacasms.
He had been particularly glad, the last time he had seen him, to remind the patronizing, all-mighty man that his younger brother could easily snap him in two if he wanted to.
But now, John wondered if the Holmes brothers' childhood couldn't explain and excuse many things. What kind of impact all this years spent alone with the staff and his "weird" mother could have had on Mycroft ? How could a boy bear the burden of feeling responsible for a much younger brother ?
Contrary to Sherlock, Mycrot had spent some time with their father, who had tramsmitted his social skills to him. And maybe that was the reason why Mycroft always seemed to smoothly make his way among the human kind, but without really bonding with anyone. Sherlock had once told him that his brother felt as if he was surrounded by goldfishes. And indeed, Mycfroft knew everything about the habits, customs and reactions of the species he needed to interact with in order to get what he wanted. But on the other hand, he seemed to care for no one, except his younger brother. Even Anthea was only a part of Mycroft's façade, the typically beautiful secretary, and not his mistress, as John had once believed. But contrary to Sherlock, Mycroft didn't seem to suffer at all from his loneliness, and found nothing difficult painful in human relationships, except the boredom to deal with inferior intellects. In a way, Mycroft was the embodiment of success. And yet, the idea of the void in which he was living was frightening.
How could he suddenly say to such a man : "Oh, by the way, I know you were adopted" ?
Still, he had to find a way to adress the subject.
John cleared his throat and began : "In the car, Sherlock told me that…"
"… That Phil and Alice are not our biological parents ?"
Sometimes, John forgot that Mycroft had the same skills as his younger brother. He didn't bother to ask how the man had guessed what he was about to say. Before he could add anything, Mycroft went on :
"I advise you not to try to ask Sherlock more questions about all this. You have to always wait for him to speak about it first. For there is something I'm sure he didn't tell you. Something you must know, I think, to better understand him. God knows that you put up with him far better than I ever expected, far better than anyone, actually. But it will help you to understand his trust issues... You see, our real mother resented Sherlock's birth. She could barely bear to lay eyes on him. Mycroft paused, but as John seemed unable to say anything, he went on. "I suppose that Sherlock explained you that our mother was not married with our father. When his wife suddenly died, she hoped that he would marry her. But our father told her it was impossible, because of 1 years old Sherlock. It would have been far to obvious, or so he said, that he was marrying the mother of his recently born illegitimate child. Of course, it was just one more lie. I'm sure that he would never have married her whatever the circumstances. For him, she had not the proper upbringing nor the social skills necessary for a man in his position. And he'd have been constantly terrified that his previous relationships with her would have become a public knowledge."
Mycroft sighed. "Even with me, she was far from being a tender, caring mother. She occasionally summoned me to test my progress in my studies, or, sometimes, to play chess with me. But most of the time, I was alone with maids and tutors. As for Sherlock, she never asked to see him. And of course, being him, he realised that something was wrong very young. I remember that just once, when he was no more than 3 years old, he asked me why I could go to see mother and not him. I told him that she was only interested in older children and that he had to grow up. But I know he was aware that it was a lie. He never asked again. Then our mother's mental health worsened to the point it was no longer possible for us to stay with her, even with a qualified and trustworthy staff. That's why we remained in Alice's care for a while. She herself had no experience of motherhood, but she did her best, and she came to genuinely care for us, especially for Sherlock. He managed to bond with her, but I suppose it was not enough, especially considering our father's attitude."
John was appaled, his heart aching for what his friend had been through when he was only a very small boy, since he was born, in fact. He painfully swallowed, and asked :
"Did your father reject Sherlock as well ?"
"Not exaclty. Not at the beginning. In fact, the lie I had told Sherlock about our mother was true for him : he had no interest in children, except to choose the best schools for them. He only took interest in me because I was in the wake of adulthood, and because I had the skills he valued the most. But he asked me to take Sherlock with me as soon as possible, as of course, to admit publicly his parternity was out of the question for him. And he considered that Alice wasn't the proper person to raise his son. But Sherlock would rather have stayed with Alice. He never forgave our father, nor me, to have retrieved him from here to send him in that boarding school for precocious children. I was only following our father's orders."
"You didn't have to comply, you had reached the age of majority", said John with venom. He could imagine his friend, a lonely, wary and rebellious child between his brilliant but insensitive father and brother. "And the Holmes were Sherlock's parents before the law. How was it that none of you stood for him ?"
Mycroft loooked at him with surprise. "But of course, we thought that it was the best for him, even Alice agreed. Sherlock couldn't go in an ordinary school, for at 10 he could have attended highschool. Yet all the adults thought it would be good for him to be with other children. I was certainly the less convinced, since I had hated my time at the university, but I didn't see why he couldn't adapt the way I had."
"But Sherlock is not you, Mycroft."
"So I learnt the hard way", Mycrot sight.
And to John, astonished, it sounded much nearer to the admission of a mistake than anything he had ever thougt Mycroft capable to say.