Notice: I've corrected some minor errors in the previous chapters. Thank you to those who pointed it out. The Holmes's mother has been renamed as Mildred.
"I'm only doing this on one condition," Mycroft hissed, while standing at the entrance of his parents' home next to his brother.
"Don't worry, brother dear, I've got your back," Sherlock replied in the overly sweet tone designed to irritate his brother.
"I mean it. If the situation devolves into a deluge of sentimentality, we will need a diversion. Nothing harmful, obviously," he glared. "Obviously," Sherlock repeated, with a smirk that frankly alarmed his brother. Sherlock observed the tightness in his brother's expression and place a casual hand on his shoulder to reassure him. He rang the buzzer and then opened the door with his key, marching in while dragging his brother along.
They found the Holmes parents in the sitting room. "Oh, boys, I'm so glad you could both make it. I had Elsa make your favorites, it will be so lovely to have dinner together, we haven't done this in such a long time," Mrs. Holmes began chattering nervously. Sherlock bent down to kiss her cheek, smiling reassuringly. "Thanks, Mummy, you're the best." He then went over to shake his father's hand.
Mycroft greeted his parents with a stiff hello while standing in the middle of the room, hands clasped behind his back. "I apologize again for not being-" he began awkwardly, when his mother interrupted him, "Come here you silly boy, you owe your mother a kiss." He bent down kissed his mother sheepishly, and she held on to his shoulders for a moment, whispering to him, "You know we love you both, you silly boy." Mycroft responded with a soft "Of course, Mummy," rolling his eyes in an exasperated display to hide his discomfort. He was always uncomfortable with openly displayed emotions. He couldn't deny that something inside of him thawed at his mother's declaration, though.
The senior Holmes came over to shake his eldest son's hand, remarking simply, "It's good that you came." Mildred Holmes declared that she would bring in drinks as her children made themselves comfortable. Mycroft made small talk with his father, and inquired about his father's latest appointment with his cardiologist, while Sherlock sprawled on the sofa, looking bored. When their mother reentered with the drinks, she sat down and joined the conversation. It could have been a typical Holmes family meeting if not for the undercurrent of tension running through them. Mildred decided to take her usual lead.
"Boys, I think I owe you both an apology," she began, looking her sons in the eye. "You've made a mistake, Mycroft, and I was very disappointed in you, but that doesn't excuse the way I've treated you. I accept that you meant well, and you're only human. I forgive you for that, and I hope you forgive me for being to hard on you." She turned to Mycroft expectantly. "Of course, Mummy," he murmured. "I hope you know we appreciate everything you've done for our family," she continued. "Perhaps we have taken too much for granted. Especially how you've taken care of Sherlock."
"I'm right here, you know, Mummy." Sherlock spoke up from his supine position on the couch, where he was staring at the ceiling. "Yes, I know, young man," his mother responded, smiling. "You very well know how your brother cares about you. You might even learn to appreciate it one day," his mother teased. Sherlock snorted, then put a pillow over his head. His mother shook her head fondly, then turned back to her other son. "You know, we always relied on you to take care of your siblings, and you did a marvelous job, considering the circumstances. But I'm afraid we put too much on you. We expected you to do everything that we should have done ourselves."
"Don't say that, Mummy," Mycroft said quietly. "I was always happy to help out, especially when it came to my siblings. They're my family too."
"Well, we appreciate that. All I'm saying it would be a bit hypocritical to be upset that you made mistakes, when we've made plenty ourselves. I suppose we were all dealing with very difficult circumstances, and we weren't always able to cope. I'm sorry, Mycroft," her voice started choking up.
"It's alright, Mummy, we'll be alright," Mycroft got up to give his mother a hug, discreetly poking his brother's leg on the way. Sherlock sat up with a start. "Oh, I hope you don't have any cake for dessert, Mummy," he exclaimed. "Especially not black forest cake."
"What's wrong with that?" his mother questioned. "I especially requested it from Elsa, it's Mycroft's favorite!"
"Too bad. You see, Mycroft is on a very strict diet right now, and we wouldn't want to place temptation in his way, would we?" He sent an evil smirk towards his brother. "Don't worry, Mycroft, I'll make sure you take proper portions, and I won't let you near the cake."
"Thank you," Mycroft sniped, dripping sarcasm. "Your concern is much appreciated." He sent a death glare to his brother.
"I'm sure one piece of cake won't hurt you, Mycroft," his mother grinned in amusement at the exchange. "How about we retire to the dining room and have dinner?" she suggested.
"Sure thing, Mummy," Sherlock declared. Mycroft got up and followed the matriarch. "I'll help with the setting up," he offered. His mother accepted with a "thank you, dear" and left the room. Mycroft was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He turned to face his father, who told him quietly, "I'm proud of you, son, and I love you. Never forget that. I have only one request of you now." He enunciated each word clearly. "Never lie to us again. No matter what happens, we will find a way to deal with it together. As a family."
"Yes Dad," Mycroft sighed. "Good." His father squeezed his shoulder. "Now lets have ourselves some dinner."
***TFD***
Dinner was a typical Holmes affair, with Mildred dominating the conversation, chattering on about her various recent experiences and her plans for her next lecturing tour. She had retired as a professor, but was invited as a guest lecturer in various prestigious universities around the world. She then proceeded to question her sons about their lives, with Mycroft giving polite answers and deflecting intrusive questions, while Sherlock gave one word answers or totally ignored them. William would interject occasionally, and would otherwise be content to watch his family.
Mrs. Holmes inquired about John and Rosie, and Sherlock told her they were doing fine. She insisted that they come over for a visit one day, and Sherlock rolled his eyes and promised to deliver the message. "Speaking about friends," he said, "I think Mycroft has made a new one. What's her name again, Alicia?" he asked innocently.
"I have no idea what you're on about" his brother hissed.
"Is there anything you'd like to tell me, Mycroft?", Mildred asked, eyes twinkling. "Do I get to meet her, or are you planning on eloping?" she teased.
"Oh, come on, Mummy, it's nothing special, just a few dates. No need to get your hopes up."
"You looked like you were having a good time at the theatre. She seems to be very enamored by your manners. You are such a gentleman. You always hold doors open for her, she finds it very amusing that you call her 'my fair lady', and that hold your umbrella like a silver-topped walking stick. She says that you need a top hat and waistcoat and you'll complete the picture of a proper gentleman."
Mycroft sputtered indignantly. "Have you been spying on me?"
"Perhaps, but that would be a fair return, don't you think?" Sherlock shot back.
"Of course you have. You're jealous. It's not like you've ever been on a proper date in your life," his brother sneered.
"I did, actually, for you information."
"Oh, enlighten me. Who was the lucky girl?"
"Sarah. She had a date with John and I came along."
"Oh, for goodness sake!" Mycroft yelled. "Just shut up already!"
"Now, that's no way to speak to your brother. And you, young man, perhaps you should stop teasing him," Mildred said sternly, but with a twinkle in her eye. "I know you really care about each other, and it makes me so happy to see you getting along."
"Definitely, we get along just fine," Mycroft said, shooting a glance at his brother. "Yes, Mummy," Sherlock said with exaggerated impatience.
Mildred beamed. "I'm so glad that you boys are taking care of each other. It is so important that a family stick together. I think we need to have family dinners more often, don't you all agree?"
She didn't notice her sons sharing a grimace.
***TFD***
Sherlock found himself in his old room after dinner, studying the remains of his old experiments and explorations. There were quite a few animal skeletons, feathers, and dried plants that survived his experimentations. He found he felt a certain sense of security by being in his old environment. Perhaps it was a remnant of the times he still believed his mother, father, and big brother could solve any problem he would ever face. He had stopped believing that a very long time ago.
A knock on the door startled him out of his thoughts and he was surprised to see that it was his father that sought him out. "May I come in?" his father requested. He ushered the older man in, and they stood in silence for several moments, observing the various artifacts displayed. "Remember how used to leave all those dead animals to decompose under your bed, until we convinced you to use the garage? You nearly gave poor Mandy a heart attack when she found those while cleaning your room." Sherlock smiled at the memory of their old housekeeper, who was convinced that his sole purpose in being born was to cause her endless grief.
"You know, Dad, that it's not really true," he said suddenly. "It's a farce, to keep Mummy happy. I'm a farce."
William looked at his son in sympathy, wordlessly encouraging him to continue. "This thing about us caring for each other, about family sticking together, it's a lie. Mycroft is the one who cares about family. I'm not like that."
"You did come here with your brother," his father said softly. "I believe you care more than you let on."
"Perhaps. But I don't do anything about it. You know I've not been a very good son. I was immature and self-absorbed. I always took from you, and I never gave back."
"You always had a good heart inside of you. It may have taken you a bit longer to grow up, but you have. I'm very proud of you, son. You have done good things with your work, and you're doing good things for the family now. I'm afraid we weren't always there for you when you needed us, either. We didn't always know how to handle you, and we made mistakes. Despite everything, you've grown into a fine man who is loved and respected by family and friends. Don't be too hard on yourself."
"You give me far too much credit, Dad. I've done things...I don't know if you'd feel the same way if you knew about them. I've hurt the people closest to me badly." His voice was flat, his eyes shadowed.
"Then be the man I know you are. Try to make things right. It's not too late, you know."
"Yes, Dad," Sherlock sighed. He looked at his father with a mixture of affection and sadness. "You are the wisest man I ever knew. I wish I had realized that before."
His father only smiled and squeezed his shoulder.
***TFD***
"Mycroft," Sherlock said as they were driving back. They had declined to stay the night, even if the hour was late. They were using Mycroft's personal car, and the elder brother was driving. Never again would he fall into the trap of letting his younger sibling drive. They barely made it out alive that time. I need you to be honest with me. Think you're capable of that?"
"Ask me no questions and I will tell you no lies," Mycroft answered pompously.
"I prefer the one where you can answer, but then you'll have to kill me. Just tell me this. Did you ever consider letting me know you needed help? You know you did when I came that day, so don't deny it. You could have let me know in so many different ways. What I want to know is this. Is there any situation where you would call me for my assistance? Personal situation, I mean, not your government business. Or is your ego too big for that, brother mine?"
Mycroft was quiet for several moments. Then he spoke up, very quietly and deliberately. "I know where to find you, brother mine. If I ever need help, I can go and wait in the queue at 221b Baker Street. I even know in which chair to sit."
"You can't tell me you didn't call me because you were upset at a silly prank! "
"Who said I was?" Mycroft responded acidly. His voice softened. "Do you want to sleep over at my place, or do you want me to take you home?"
"Home," Sherlock answered. "I need space. I have a lot to think about."
A/N I found it very hard to write the parents in this scene. I'm not sure about how it came out. The brothers will be going through some heavy angst in the next chapter, but will hopefully find themselves on dry ground at the end ;)
Oh, and don't forget to review. You can also check out my new one-shot featuring Mycroft, with the title "Do Not Go Gently Into the Good Night." Let me know what you think!