Chapter Twenty
"Avast!"
"Engard!"
"Sherlock, pirates don't say—"
"YES THEY DO! I'M REWRITING HISTORY TO MAKE THEM SAY IT!"
Mycroft chuckled and slashed the wooden sword. Sherlock dramatically fell to the ground, shrieking, "Me hand! NO! I just took orthopedic-surgery off of me insurance plan!"
Mycroft bit back a smile. Sherlock leapt up and grabbed a hanger from the wardrobe, pulling his sleeve over it. He then jumped onto the bed and shouted, "Ye will pay for that!"
"I just cut your hand off!" Mycroft pointed out, "Shouldn't you be going into shock?"
"It's a flesh-wound," Sherlock muttered, raising his wooden word, "Engard!"
"Avast!"
They fell into the corridor and fought their way into the console room.
The door to the cupboard flew open and the Doctor leapt out, sporting an eye-patch and a tricorn hat as he bellowed, "Mwahaha! I be taking your ship!"
"Mutiny!" Mycroft roared.
"We have no choice but to join sides!" Sherlock cried.
"Ye be right!" Mycroft shouted, "Together we be invincible!"
Five minutes later, they were lying on the ground in defeat. The Doctor gave a sinister laugh and boldly declared, "Ye shall be walking the plank!"
Sherlock and Mycroft bowed their heads and trudged along. The Doctor prodded their backs with their own wooden swords, guffawing and bragging as they went.
"Well, you can't win them all," Sherlock sighed as they edged onto the plank, "It's been an honor sailing with ye, Captain Mycroft."
"The honor's all mine," Mycroft sadly growled.
The two simultaneously stepped from the diving-board and landed in the swimming pool.
They resurfaced, laughing and splashing. They then grabbed the Doctor's coattails and pulled him in. He yelped out before dunking the two of them.
"You know," Mycroft pondered, coughing up water, "It does seem a bit silly to be imagining things when we can go land on an actual pirate ship."
"Nothing is better than imagination," the Doctor pointed out.
"I wish that there was a way to see your own thoughts," Sherlock mused, floating around on his back.
"There is a way," the Doctor abruptly exclaimed, causing Sherlock to jerk in surprise and plunge beneath the water.
The Doctor climbed up the ladder and hastily said, "Come on! You're going to love this!"
The brothers followed him into the wind-tunnel to dry off and hurried into the console room. The Doctor whirled around, pressing buttons as he pleased.
"You know," Sherlock cried, clinging onto the console, "River once told me that the Tardis shouldn't shake like that."
"River is wrong," the Doctor calmly said.
"She also said that the Tardis shouldn't make that noise."
"River is wrong."
"In fact," Sherlock chuckled, "She said that you were driving with the brakes on."
"RIVER IS WRONG!"
The brothers laughed and the Doctor scowled as the Tardis landed. They wrenched open the door, only to disappointedly find that they were in a cramped office. A circular desk sat in front of an impressive door.
A temp glanced up and politely said, "Can I help you?"
"Hello," the Doctor said, "I'm the Doctor. This is Sherlock and Mycroft. We would like to go in."
She handed them three waiver-forms to fill out.
Mycroft skimmed it and muttered, "Not responsible for mutilation, disintegration, memory-loss, insanity (temporary and permanent), death…"
"That's just a formality," the Doctor calmly said, waving his hand, "Go on and sign it."
"If I must," Mycroft sighed and they signed away.
The temp then handed them a silver bracelet and hit a button. Something buzzed and the door swung open. The Doctor, Sherlock, and Mycroft entered a large dome-shaped room, which lacked any furniture or decoration. The walls were sterile-white and nearly reflective.
"You first, Mycroft," the Doctor decided, handing over the bracelet.
Mycroft gave him a skeptical look but slid it on. The walls immediately lit up with dozens of pictures and words. They overlapped one another and escalated into a collage that spread across the walls and ceiling.
"What is it?" Mycroft asked in awe.
"Your thoughts," the Doctor gently explained, "This dome projects every thought and memory that you've ever had. Even if the thoughts and memories are in your subconscious. Even if you don't remember having the thoughts. It's impressive with an ordinary mind but you two have an eidetic memory. This is going to be good."
Mycroft smiled at the possibilities and asked, "Can I control them?"
"Sure," the Doctor shrugged, "They're your thoughts."
Mycroft closed his eyes. Unbeknownst to him, the thoughts swirled around until they reorganized themselves. When he opened his eyes, he was amazed to see that a large panorama of a bookshelf stretched across the room with thousands of books.
"Wicked," Sherlock whispered.
"A good way to organize your thoughts," the Doctor praised, "Now, try to think of something specific."
Mycroft thought of the first thing that came to his mind: Bowties.
A book sprang open to his left and the dome zoomed into the page. It showed the definition of the word in Mycroft's handwriting. He remembered that he had had the word on a spelling test, long ago. Mycroft attentively reached forward and moved his hand. The page of the book flipped, revealing a wordless memory of Mycroft reciting the word to a faceless class.
"Aww," the Doctor's eyes lit up, "Baby Mycroft!"
"I was six," Mycroft mumbled with embarrassment.
He quickly reached out and made the motion to turn the page.
"Mum!" Sherlock excitedly cried.
Indeed, Mrs. Holmes was reaching towards them, apparently adjusting something. They caught a glance of Mycroft in the mirror. He was several years older and was in the nursery, preparing to go down to one of Mr. Holmes' dinner-parties. Sherlock sat on a bed nearby. He couldn't have been more than three years old.
"Baby Sherlock," the Doctor squealed.
"Oh," Sherlock sadly whispered, "I remember this."
"So do I," Mycroft muttered and before he could stop himself, the page automatically turned and showed a shattered plate on the floor.
It turned again to reveal an angry and befuddled Mr. Holmes.
Another turn of the page and all hell seemed to be breaking loose. Somebody was lying on the floor. Mrs. Holmes had had a migraine all day. Mycroft had been concerned but she had insisted that she was fine. Mycroft and Sherlock uncomfortably watched as members of the crowd gently helped her to her feet. The walls lit up with lights of an ambulance. Then Sherlock was pressing through the crowd, confused and intrigued. Mycroft's hand stretched out just as his younger self's hand did. Sherlock took it and was led upstairs.
"Let's continue onto bowties," the Doctor quietly suggested.
Bowties. The Doctor.
They were suddenly surrounded by dozens of different books, flipping through warm memories of their adventures with the Doctor and the Doctor's previous adventures. It was like watching several dozen home-videos of their past four months. They happily looked around for several minutes before Sherlock impatiently cried, "I want to try!"
"Go ahead," Mycroft chuckled, handing the bracelet over.
Sherlock excitedly put it on.
Mycroft and the Doctor stared, awestruck, as the thoughts zoomed around them. Some flashed for seconds. Others faded in and out. Different memories emerged; faces and planets.
"Sherlock," Mycroft slowly said.
Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut and the thoughts escalated. Mycroft felt nauseous as they zoomed around and croaked, "He can't honestly be thinking about all of this at once."
"Not all at once," the Doctor agreed, "But they are there. They're all in the back of his mind, waiting to be pulled to his consciousness. He doesn't seem to be able to organize them as well as you can."
Sherlock gave a small groan of pain.
"Sherlock," Mycroft concernedly said, "Are you alright?"
Sherlock clutched his forehead, as if he was getting a headache.
"Take the bracelet off," the Doctor gently ordered, "That's enough."
Sherlock shook with an overwhelming exhaustion. Mycroft desperately reached forward and pulled his brother into his arms. Sherlock tensed and blindly tried to pull away but eventually leaned against Mycroft's chest. Mycroft and the Doctor looked up and watched in awe as the thoughts and memories faded away.
"What…what happened?" Mycroft asked, "What did I do?"
"You calmed him down," the Doctor beamed.
"But…he's not thinking of anything," Mycroft whispered.
"Exactly," the Doctor exclaimed, "No worries. No thoughts. Just…bliss."
Mycroft hesitated and slowly let go of Sherlock. It took Sherlock a few moments to realize this and when he did, his eyes flew open and the memories surged back. Mycroft once again folded his arms around his brother. Sherlock contentedly relaxed. Mycroft reached down and pulled the bracelet off before letting go of his brother. Sherlock looked dazed for a moment before excitedly saying, "Your turn, Doctor!"
The Doctor hesitated before putting it on. Immediately, the universe seemed to spread across the entire dome. Then, it began to rapidly move. Mycroft thought that Sherlock's thoughts were quick. He and Sherlock had to spin around to try and see everything that was on the Doctor's mind. Millions of planets, billions of faces, trillions of years. A cracking noise filled the entire dome and the ceiling and walls suddenly shattered. Mycroft dove on top of Sherlock and the Doctor leapt on top of the both of them. They shakily stood up, inspecting for injuries.
"What happened?" Mycroft asked.
"I overwhelmed it," the Doctor sheepishly admitted.
"But…you didn't even have it on for a minute," Sherlock pointed out.
"Yeah," the Doctor murmured, rubbing the back of his neck, "Twenty-seven brains."
They stepped over the large shards and he continued, "Alright, let's play a game."
"A game?" Mycroft skeptically asked.
"Yep."
"What is it?" Sherlock asked.
"It's called 'Let's Run Back To The Tardis Before People Find Out That We Just Destroyed Multimillion Dollar Technology.'"
"Oh, that game," Sherlock scoffed, "That game's boring. We play it all the time."
The Doctor chuckled and the three raced back into the office and dove into the Tardis.
Mycroft shut the door and the Doctor pulled a lever. They immediately took off.
"Wow…" Sherlock whispered, "That was amazing."
"Before or after we destroyed it?" Mycroft snickered.
"Both," Sherlock laughed.
"I knew that you'd like it," the Doctor said with a smile.
"Yeah," Mycroft sighed, "There's just one thing left to do."
"What?"
He bent down, grabbed his wooden sword, and growled, "Take back me ship."
Sherlock smirked and grabbed his own sword, and the brothers roared, "Engard!"
Author's Note: A much lighter chapter than the one before. Speaking of which, I believe that I owe 'Amanda' a three-page essay on why the previous chapter was necessary. Here you go, Amanda!
Why The Previous Chapter Was Necessary
By: Marauders4EVR
First, let's take a look at Mycroft's canon-character. In the series Sherlock, of which this fanfiction is halfway based on, Mycroft is depicted as Sherlock's stern older brother. He states that he owns a 'minor position in the British government' though Sherlock remarks that 'he is the government'. At the first glance, he may seem like Sherlock's opposite. He is quiet, formal, professional, cares about his appearance, and cares about his reputation. He begrudgingly looks after his younger brother, though it is obvious that something happened to drive the brothers away from one another. He also seems to be more apt to understanding social-cues and conventions. If we look closely, we can see that Mycroft actually shares several traits with his brother. One of the most obvious traits is the power of deduction. In the original series by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Mycroft is said to have powers of deduction that are even greater than Sherlock's. Another trait that he shares is the ability to be quite dramatic. He kidnaps John on a frequent basis, flourishes his umbrella, and puts surveillance around Baker Street.
Now, let's look at Mycroft in this particular fanfiction. I've been writing fanfiction for eight years. By now, I put a lot of thought into each fanfiction. A lot of thought. In the beginning of the fanfiction, we again see Mycroft as Sherlock's stern older brother. However, he still has a softer side. There's a part of him that wants to steal biscuits or play pirates, even though he knows that Mr. Holmes would be furious. Unfortunately, Mycroft has had to repress that side in order to raise and protect Sherlock. After all, he made a promise to a very important woman that he would always protect Sherlock; until the end of time. And Mycroft also realizes that there comes a point when it is socially-unacceptable to brandish a wooden sword or act like a child. As the fanfiction goes on, you see Mycroft and Sherlock both come out of their shells. I could go into another three-page rant essay about Sherlock's character development. But much like the previous chapter, this is a Mycroft-themed essay.
After Mycroft and Sherlock joyously run around with pirates, Mycroft and the Doctor have a heartfelt conversation on top of the Tardis. The Doctor comforts Mycroft who has a good cry, though only after ensuring that Sherlock wouldn't be there to see him cry. When they go to the giant toy-store, you see Mycroft excitedly look around, though he tries to act nonchalant. As the story progresses, Mycroft shows more and more emotions—some good, some bad. There are still moments when he'll bring himself to full height and be the mature voice of reason. But the Doctor definitely breaks him out of his shell and shows him that it's alright to have fun. It's alright to have an adventure. It's alright. Everything is going to be alright.
At this point in the fanfiction, we're just under four months into their adventure. That is, if you go by the clock in the brother's bedroom. So one day, Mycroft opens his eyes and realizes that it is the 'anniversary' of their mother's death. He is immediately overcome with sadness; he doesn't want to leave his bed, he doesn't want to do anything. But then Sherlock makes that small whimpering noise. So, once again, Mycroft pulls himself together and calmly goes over, making sure that Sherlock is alright. They go out into the nursery where the Doctor eventually gets Mycroft to explain why he's upset. After a touching conversation between the brothers, Mycroft realizes that he never really got a chance to say goodbye to their mother. He was too busy taking care of Sherlock. And so Mycroft attentively asks the Doctor a question: Is it possible to go back and be with my mother when she's dying? For once, Mycroft Holmes isn't thinking about Sherlock. That's not to say that Sherlock isn't important in this chapter. I imagine that he and Jack had a wonderful time terrorizing Cardiff. However, this is a Mycroft-centered chapter. And this is a great chapter to look at his character development. So far, Sherlock was always the one with his foot halfway out the Tardis door, in anticipation for an adventure, whereas Mycroft was a bit weary. But after the reunion with his mother, Mycroft finds himself gushing about their adventures. And it's there that you realize just how much the Doctor means to Mycroft and how much the adventures have meant. Even the Doctor is pleasantly surprised to learn just how much he changed Mycroft's life. And then you get the wonderful moment between Mrs. Holmes and the Doctor. (Spoilers: That paper will come in handy in a few chapters.) And then…the inevitable happens. And Mycroft breaks down which is both heartbreaking and liberating, because he finally gets the chance to do so.
And then the slight plot-twist. The Doctor leads Mycroft away and down a few floors, so that he doesn't have to see the doctors and nurses try to unsuccessfully revive Mrs. Holmes. It is there that Mycroft spots his father with a nurse, of whom he was having an affair with. Now, hopefully you've picked up on the fact that the Doctor…well…let's just say that he and Mr. Holmes don't exactly see eye-to-eye. But I didn't want to write the Doctor's reaction to seeing this. I wanted to write Mycroft's. In the very first chapter, Mycroft doesn't even have the courage to stand up to his father when being forced from the nursery. Character-development is truly a wonderful thing. Because not only does he stand up to his father, he punches him and sends him sprawling to the ground. Granted, there is the small problem of messing with his own time-stream. Luckily, the Doctor smoothly takes care of everything. I then put in the moment where Mycroft is leaning against the Tardis, thinking back to four years ago, when he and Sherlock entered that very hospital. Four years and several batches of grilled cheese later, Mycroft is still apt on keeping his promise. Only now, he's not just protecting Sherlock. Mycroft, the Doctor, and Sherlock are all protecting one another. And sometimes, Jack and River are there to protect them and be protected. I guess you could say that they are all one big happy family.
In conclusion, there are many reasons why the previous chapter was necessary. One thing about both Doctor Who and Sherlock is that crises seem to bring out the best in the characters (or the worst). The previous chapter was necessary to show Mycroft's character-development and just how much he cares about Sherlock and the Doctor. It was necessary to show just how much the Doctor cares about Sherlock and Mycroft. It was necessary to show just how much Mrs. Holmes care about her boys and how much Sherlock and Mycroft care about her. (And how much the Doctor cares about her.) It was a painful chapter to write, and I imagine that it was a painful chapter to read. But sometimes the saddest chapters are the most liberating.