John's P.O.V.

I was ready to throw up. I should've expected the rape test to come back positive, but it still made me angry. How dare anyone even think of touching him like that. He had barely let me out of his sight since we found him and he hadn't uttered a single word. When he was asked questions, he just shook or nodded his head. He was terrified. The man who should've never been terrified in his life was scared out of his wits.

And then there was Mycroft. He had been moved to the morgue and Sherlock was refusing to leave his side. I had tried to leave once and the panic in his eyes was enough to make me stay. I tried to ask him why he was scared, but he refused to answer.

It was three days later before he said a single word. Mycroft's funeral was quickly organized and was quite small. The entire time Sherlock didn't leave my side. He was asked to go up and speak, but refused. He was pushed to go up and had started to panic. Anthea pulled the man, he was just a preacher, away from Sherlock and explained the situation. A look of understanding dawned in his eyes. He nodded and walked back up, quickly concluding the service. Daddy and Mummy Holmes both tried to convince Sherlock to come stay with them, but he just shook his head and walked away.

I had watched him closely. He was a rape victim, who had suicidal thoughts and just lost his brother. For him to be this quiet was little disconcerting. I knew he could go for days without uttering a single word, but this was absurd.

"Oh Mycroft," I whispered as they filled in the grave. "Why did you have to go? Sherlock needs you more now than ever."

"I know John. I wish I could've stayed, but there was nothing I could do. I tried. I'm sorry I failed."

Next to me stood Sherlock, completely silent as always. Next to him though stood Mycroft, running his fingers gently through Sherlock's curly mop. Sherlock couldn't see him, and I wasn't sure if I even saw him.

"Mycroft? Are you really there?" I asked in a lower tone.

He stopped moving his hand through Sherlock's hair for a split second. "I wish I could've only prevented this. I should've tried to stay alive longer, to not give into death. I've officially failed at being an older brother. Make sure he stays out of harms way John. I can't let anything happen to him," his voice cracked as he leaned his head on Sherlock's shoulder.

"I promise Mycroft. I will protect him," I assured him.

He looked me dead in eye. "Please John. Don't let him down."

"I won't."

Wiping a small tear from Sherlock's face, he kissed his cheek and turned to leave. "Thank you John. You are the friend my brother always needed. Do tell him I love him."

As he vanished into thin air, I averted my eyes back to younger Holmes. He stared at the ground, unsure of anything. We started to walk, when he asked a question. I'm not sure if it was the content of the question or the fact he spoke at all that surprised me.

"Was Mycroft here a moment ago?" he asked.

I looked at him shocked. "He was. How'd you know?"

"Mycroft is the only one to ever kiss me on the left cheek. It always gave a certain warming feeling when he did it. I just had that feeling. He had to be here," his reason made perfect sense.

"He was," I mumbled, "and talked to me."

The detective's eyes grew hopeful. "What did he say? Please John, I need to know."

"He mainly ran his fingers through your hair, but when he did speak he asked me to keep an eye out for you. He also said he is sorry for failing as an older brother."

I heard a sharp intake of breath along with a small sob. "Are you sure that's what he said?" he questioned.

I nodded. Sherlock turned away and bit his bottom lip. "I think I'm going to head back to my flat. Thanks for being here for me."

I stood there, confused. For the past four days he refused to leave my side and now he was just leaving? It was a little suspicious. I watched as he quickly hailed a cab and got in. It drove away and I jogged across the grounds. Catching the next cab, I ordered the driving to follow the one that just left. Seeing Sherlock's cab turn right, we followed, but the cab had seemed to disappear.

"Where to now mate?" the cabbie asked.

Looking around confused, I answered with a simple address. "221B Baker Street."

Sherlock's P.O.V.

Mycroft had talked to John. Mycroft had been there. He had ran his fingers through my hair. He had kissed my left cheek. He was only one to ever kiss me on the left cheek. Out of everyone who had ever kissed me, the left cheek was reserved for him alone.

I had got in the cab and had asked the cabbie to just drive in the giant circle. I told John I was going back to the flat and I knew he would try to follow me, but I had to go back to Mycroft's grave and I had to do it alone.

About five minutes afterwards, I paid the cabbie and walked back to the grave. The dirt was still fresh and soft and I slowly approached it. There were gray clouds hanging overhead and it was getting cold enough I swore it might snow.

"Umm... Mycroft... John said you were here earlier, and, well I just don't even know if that's true. We always said there was no such thing as ghosts or demons or angels. And now John claims to have seen you. Normally I'd be prone to believe him, but Mycroft..." a sob passed my lips. "Mycroft, I don't know what to think. If John saw you, if he talked to you, then why didn't you talk to me? Why! You're my brother! Why didn't you talk to me! Are you mad at me because I caused your death! Are you angry because I tried to kill myself! Hell..."

My tears hit the ground and I shivered in the cold, bitter wind. "Hell Mycroft. Did you not talk to me because I was raped? Because I shot my best friend? Because I failed at everything I've ever done? I just want to know why. I'm sorry Mycroft. I'm so so sorry. I failed you. I killed you. I can never redeem myself from that. I deserve to die, to burn in hell. I just want you to come back, but we both know the saying," I whispered softly.

The snow was starting to fall gently around me and I shivered once more at another gust of cold wind came through. Turning to leave, I said one single more sentence.

"What's dead should stay dead."

Hello! So after that last chapter I decided to have a more cheerful chapter... Just kidding! Cheerful is not my style. I do hope you enjoyed and please review!

Best Regards,

PFT221B

Side note! Do you know where the last line of dialogue in this chapter came from? If so, comment and I'll make sure to give you a shout out!