Chapter Thirty-Five

This time, Mycroft and Sherlock were the ones who were arrested. In their defence, it was still the Doctor's fault. And the Doctor would adamantly deny that it was his fault, even though he would eventually admit it to River in private. But still…when Sherlock and Mycroft would later accuse him, he would say that it wasn't his fault that they had gotten arrested. It was his fault that they had gotten chased, certainly. But he had nothing to do with them getting arrested; they simply didn't run fast enough.

It all started with a raucous game of Marco, Polo, Sonic in the swimming pool.

The Doctor coughed up a good amount of water before asking, "Did you hear that?"

Sherlock and Mycroft gave him a skeptical look.

"It sounded like someone knocking," the Doctor thoughtfully said.

"Knocking?" Mycroft repeated, "You mean…on the front door?"

"That's exactly what I mean!"

Mycroft glanced at Sherlock who slowly pointed out, "Doctor, we're in the middle of space! Why would somebody be knocking on the door?"

"Well, that's what we're going to find out," the Doctor cried, hopping out of the pool and rapidly redressing, "Come along!"

The brothers shrugged before dressing and following him out into the console room.

The Doctor slowly opened the door, only to find that a bright orb of light was hovering on the other side.

"What is that?" Mycroft curiously asked.

"I have no idea," the Doctor muttered, looking mesmerized, "Let's touch it."

"Don't touch it," Mycroft sighed.

"I'm going to."

"Don't."

The Doctor reached out and Mycroft muttered, "And of course you touch it."

The Doctor let out a terrible scream which caused Mycroft and Sherlock to cry out.

The Doctor then chuckled and sheepishly admitted, "Just joking."

Sherlock laughed and Mycroft shook his head, trying not to grin.

The Doctor examined the orb, cross-eyed and curious.

At long last he thoughtfully said, "It's an invitation."

"An invitation?" Sherlock repeated, "For what?"

"A celebration," the Doctor explained, looking bemused, "In my honor."

"How do you know that?" Sherlock laughed, "Don't tell me that you can talk to bright balls of light now?"

"Alright," the Doctor cheerfully said, "I won't!"

The orb of light faded away and the Doctor straightened up, "Odd. I don't even remember that planet; let alone why they would want to honor me."

He shrugged and said, "Oh well! Geronimo!"

"Hang on," Mycroft quickly said as the Doctor shut the door, "What if it's a trap?"

"What if it's a party? I'm good with those odds."

"I'm not," Mycroft muttered, "Doctor…"

"Always the cynical one," the Doctor lightly teased, "Don't worry."

Mycroft sighed and asked, "Are you sure that you know what you're doing?"

"No," the Doctor replied, "But I've got a pretty good feeling about this."

He hit a button and they were off.

They landed in a small town square. The three poked their heads out and simultaneously glanced around. It didn't look too peculiar.

Sherlock was the first to point out, "Hoods."

Everyone on the planet seemed to be wearing strange cloaks with the hoods drawn up.

The Doctor frowned, trying to remember a time that he had been on the planet or had met these aliens. They slowly exited the Tardis and Mycroft felt his stomach twist. He couldn't explain it but something seemed…wrong.

A hooded creature stepped forward and cried, "Doctor!"

"Hello," the Doctor apprehensively called, "Yes! I am the Doctor!"

"Doctor," Sherlock muttered, "Something's not right."

The three stepped forward and suddenly the Tardis door was slammed, courtesy of another cloaked alien. The three jumped and realized that they were being surrounded.

"It's wonderful to see you," the cloaked figure continued, "Wonderful."

The creatures closed in on them.

The Doctor hung his head before sadly whispering, "Mycroft, Sherlock, I am so sorry."

"What?" Mycroft cried, paling.

"I need you to trust me. But for right now I need you to run. Run!"

Mycroft grabbed Sherlock's hand and the two obeyed. The brothers raced down the street, dodging beams of electricity. A shrub nearby burst into flames as a beam hit it. Sherlock screamed and desperately tried to keep up with Mycroft. He suddenly tripped over his own shoelace and fell face-first into the sidewalk. His cheek smacked against the concrete and something sticky oozed down his face. Mycroft yelled out and scrambled back to pick him up. The two quickly hurried on. The cloaked figures were getting closer. Sherlock felt hot tears of pain well up as his cheek stung. He swallowed and forced himself to carry on. He needed to be brave and calm. But it was hard to be brave and calm when people were shooting at you.

"Come on," Mycroft gasped, quickly pulling him into an alleyway. The two brothers leaned against the wall. Their chests heaved as they tried to catch their breath.

Mycroft frowned and said, "Sherlock, listen. I'm going to draw them away."

"What?" Sherlock cried, realizing what he meant, "No! Mycroft…"

"Shush," Mycroft hissed, "It's alright. As soon as I take off, I want you to run. Get back to the Tardis. Find the Doctor, if you can. If not…just enter the Tardis and lock the doors."

"What about you?" Sherlock anxiously asked.

"Don't worry about me," Mycroft assuredly said, "I'll be fine. Just focus on getting back to the Tardis. Alright?"

He gave his brother a quick hug before taking off. He heard Sherlock cry his name and truly hoped that his brother had listened. He pelted through the streets, his heart thundering with trepidation. He skidded around a corner but felt something hit him. Mycroft's arms and legs flailed as he gracelessly fell. Much like his brother, he hit his head on the pavement. Unlike his brother, instead of merely hitting his cheek, Mycroft hit the top corner of his head with a crunch that didn't sound good. For a moment, the edges of the world faded. He was dazed and nauseous.

"GET UP!"

Idiot. Couldn't they see that he was concussed? He was in no proper state to stand.

Apparently they couldn't see that, because one creature grabbed him and yanked him to his feet. Handcuffs were placed onto his wrists, nearly cutting off the circulation. Mycroft tried to kick and fight but his head was killing him. Somebody began to drag him. He heard a throaty growl, "Come on. We got his brother a few minutes ago."

Sherlock. No! They couldn't have gotten him. Mycroft was dizzy, confused, and afraid.

"Doctor," he whispered, "Where are you?"

() () ()

"Where is my brother?"

Mycroft's throat was raw from repeating the question. He had been dragged to a local prison with coal-black walls and cold floors. He had been fingerprinted before a gruff officer had thrown him into a small cell. There was a single soiled toilet in the corner. No bed. No furniture whatsoever. Just a toilet that reeked of vomit and alcohol.

An officer stood in the corridor. His hood was also pulled up.

"Where is my brother?" Mycroft passionately thundered.

"Calm down, kid."

"My name is Mycroft Gatiss Holmes," Mycroft roared, shaking with rage, "I am a human from Planet Earth and I demand that you tell me where my brother is!"

The officer gave a sick chuckle, "You are in no position to demand anything. Now, if I was you, I would start talking about the Doctor."

"Or what?" Mycroft threatened.

The officer fingered the Taser and Mycroft swallowed.

"The Doctor. Talk."

"Why do you want to know?" Mycroft demanded.

If his hood was down, Mycroft was sure that the officer would be throwing him a skeptical look as he growled, "The Doctor holds some of the darkest secrets of the universe. We get him and torture him and we get the secrets."

"Oh," Mycroft quietly said, "Well in that case…I'm not saying anything."

He fell back against the far wall, trying to think. What was he supposed to do?

What would the Doctor do?

He would probably give a fierce and passionate rant about being imprisoned. He would then trip over his own feet and remind them all that bowties were cool.

What about River?

Well, naturally River had a bit of experience on getting out of prisons. She would probably shoot away the bars of the cage before blasting the officer. She would then take the officer's lightning-shooter as a backup weapon before kissing him on the cheek and calmly strolling down the corridor, looking for someone else to shoot. Well that was all a bit tedious. It wasn't that Mycroft was a pacifist. He just didn't really want to go through all of the trouble.

What about Jack?

Mycroft chuckled, realizing that Jack would probably flirt with the officer until the latter opened the door. Mycroft certainly wasn't about to do that.

And so Mycroft took a deep breath and surveyed the situation.

Another officer was stomping up the corridor.

"Oi, you! You the brat's brother?"

"Yeah," Mycroft proudly said, "That's me. Where is he?"

"He's two floors below—"

"You locked him up?" Mycroft yelped, crossing the room. He heatedly shook the bars of the cage, as though expecting them to simply fall apart.

The first officer angrily rapped the other side of the bars and snapped, "Knock it off! Get your temper under control."

The second officer drawled, "We didn't lock him up. He's in the childcare center."

"I bet that's cheery," Mycroft muttered.

The officer ignored him and continued, "We ought to lock him up, though. He's giving the officers a hell of a time! Yelling and screaming and kicking! He nearly bit an officer's finger off when he came too close. We had to put full restrains on him!"

"You put full restraints on an eight-year old?" Mycroft yelped, "Unbelievable! I want to see him! Now!"

The second officer merely laughed and walked away.

"Keep it up and I'll put full restraints on you," the first officer threatened, "Listen, I'm just doing my job."

"I'm doing mine," Mycroft said, his eyes blazing.

"Your job is to sit there and be quiet."

"My job is to protect my brother!" Mycroft fiercely corrected, "And I'll thank you to allow me to do my job!"

"No."

"Please!" Mycroft desperately tried a different approach, "Please. I'll cooperate to the fullest extent. I can tell you whatever you want. You want to know about the Doctor right? I'll tell you about him. Anything."

"You're bluffing."

"I'm not," Mycroft quietly replied, "I will tell you everything that I know about the Doctor and the Tardis and the universe…Just…just please…let me see my brother."

The officer's hard demeanor slipped up as he asked, "You would trade the secrets of the universe for your brother?"

"Every time," Mycroft sincerely said.

The officer scratched his hooded head before saying, "Sure, kid."

He unlocked the cage and ensured that Mycroft's restraints were secure. Mycroft fell limp, allowing the officer to drag him. He heard the screams before they were even on the floor.

"Stop," Mycroft quickly cried, before the officer opened the door, "Please…sir…take my restraints off."

The officer laughed and Mycroft hastily said, "I won't run. You have bloody weapons; of course I'm not going to try and run! But I think that it may calm him down."

The officer hesitated before growling, "Any funny business and your brother will have to watch you get disintegrated."

"Deal," Mycroft weakly said.

The officer removed the restraints and gave him a threatening glare before opening the door. Mycroft blinked at the change of light before spotting his brother near a toy chest. He was hysterically shaking as he gave a piercing scream. His face was bright red and his eyes were tightly shut. He kept on screaming. One long wail. Mycroft raced over and threw his arms around him. For a moment, Sherlock merely looked shocked at the fact that his hysterics had been interrupted. He then realized exactly who was hugging him and relaxed. It was as if somebody had turned off a switch.

"It's okay," Mycroft croaked, "Sherlock…I'm here. I'm here."

"I can see that," Sherlock muttered.

Mycroft chuckled and pulled back, trying to give his brother a reassuring smile. It must have quivered because Sherlock didn't look that reassured.

"Why were you screaming?" Mycroft gently asked, "What happened?"

Sherlock suddenly looked embarrassed as he whispered, "Well, he…the Doctor does have amazing hearing and…I thought…"

"…that if you screamed, he would come?" Mycroft gently finished.

"Yeah," Sherlock bitterly said, "But he didn't."

He gave a shudder and whispered, "Mycroft…he didn't come…"

"It's okay," Mycroft said, confidentially, "It's going to be alright."

"How do you know?"

Mycroft didn't have an answer for that.

The first officer opened the door and cried, "Oi, you! Get in here! This boy's agreed to tell us everything about the Doctor!"

"What?" Sherlock cried, looking horrified, "Mycroft!"

"It was the only way that I could see you," Mycroft hissed, "Don't give me that look."

Several other cloaked officers entered.

"You can't tell them anything," Sherlock whispered, "You can't!"

"Don't worry," Mycroft assured him, "I'm not going to!"

He heard several hisses and the first officer snapped, "You said…"

"I lied!"

The officer let out a retched scream.

He suddenly raced forward and tightly flung his arm around Sherlock's waist. He used his other hand to grab a weapon from beneath his cloak and held it up to Sherlock's head.

"Sherlock!" Mycroft shouted, "Let him go!"

Sherlock tried to fight off the man, but he was still heavily restrained.

Mycroft stepped forward but a second officer lifted his weapon.

The officer laughed and wickedly hissed, "How 'bout a bit of incentive? Your brother for the Doctor."

Mycroft tried not to panic. Sherlock was remarkably calm, though his eyes sparkled with fear and dread. Mycroft took a deep breath and calmly asked, "What do you want to know?"

"Mycroft!" Sherlock cried, looking horrified.

"Sherlock, shut up," Mycroft hissed.

He took a deep breath and continued, "So…the Doctor…the Doctor…"

"TALK!"

"I'm talking," Mycroft rapidly said, "Bloody hell. Give me a moment. There's not much to say about him, really. I mean…he's a Tim…a man…he's a funny man with a bowtie."

The officer coldly repeated, "A bowtie?"

"Yeah," Mycroft weakly said, "A bowtie. I think that it looks rather daft but…"

"It does not," one of the backup officers indignantly cried.

The Doctor ripped off his hood and gave them a grin. He spun around, ducking the bolts of electricity from the other shocked officers. He then clicked his Sonic, disabling the weapons.

"If I was you," the Doctor quietly said, towering over the officer that was now loosely clinging onto Sherlock, "I would seriously consider letting him go."

The officer pushed Sherlock away and Mycroft shakily caught him.

"You alright?" Mycroft asked.

"Fine," Sherlock wheezed, though his knees were shaking.

"Sherlock," the Doctor commanded, "Your vortex manipulator…please."

He forced out the last word and Mycroft realized that he was furious. He put his hand on either brother's shoulder and Sherlock hit the button. A few seconds later, they were standing in the console room of the Tardis.

"What…that's it?" Mycroft asked, stunned, "We're not going to teach them a lesson or give a passionate rant…"

"No."

Mycroft flinched at the harsh tone as the Doctor pulled a lever. Sherlock spoke over the sound of the Tardis materializing, "But I thought that we didn't run away from a fight!"

"Some things are more important," the Doctor pointed out, "And some things require a bit of…restraint."

"Restraint?" Sherlock repeated.

"Yes," the Doctor muttered, "We don't ever run away from a fight but sometimes it's best to walk away…and spare a few dozen lives."

"Doctor, are you okay?" Mycroft uncertainly asked.

The Doctor stared at the console, taking several deep breaths. He then whirled around and pulled both brothers into a tight and passionate hug.

"Hey, it's okay," Mycroft assured him, though he would never complain about getting a hug from the Doctor, "We're alright, Doctor."

"I'm sorry," the Doctor whispered, "I'm so sorry that you had to go through that."

"It wasn't your fault," Sherlock assured him.

"Yes, it was," the Doctor miserably said, "I should have listened to you, Mycroft."

"Yes," Mycroft muttered, "Well…thanks for coming."

"Oh, I was right behind you," the Doctor softly admitted, pulling back, "I just needed to find a way to break into the prison."

"Did you hear me?" Sherlock shyly asked.

The Doctor silently nodded. Yes. He had heard Sherlock's scream. And it had been double-heartbreaking.

"It's…it's okay, Doctor," Mycroft assured him, "It's…blimey…"

The severity of the last few hours suddenly seemed to hit him. His legs felt as though they were made from jelly babies. His knees buckled and the Doctor gently caught him. The three held one another for a moment before Sherlock muttered, "Bored."

"Bored?" Mycroft repeated, "You were just held hostage."

"Yes," Sherlock pressed, "I was just held hostage. Now, I'm bored."

"Well," the Doctor cheerfully cried, "You know what they say! Marco!"

Sherlock grinned and ran down to the swimming pool, crying, "Coming, Mycroft?"

"In a minute," Mycroft shakily called. And as he had down many times before, the eldest Holmes brother crossed to the door and opened it, drawing comfort from the stars.

He didn't hear the Doctor come up behind him until the Time Lord quietly asked, "Can I ask you something, Mycroft?"

Mycroft didn't answer and instead stared out at the stars; at the universe.

The Doctor continued nonetheless, "What would you have done…if I hadn't been there?"

Mycroft didn't answer and the Doctor attempted to clarify, "What would you have said?"

Mycroft understood the subtext of the question and both he and the Doctor understood that it wasn't an easy answer. Mycroft had been forced to make a very hard choice: his brother for the universe. Sherlock verses every single point in time…every single area of space…

And Mycroft couldn't give the Doctor an answer.

The Doctor closed his eyes and for a moment—just a brief moment—Mycroft recognized the look of weary sadness. It quickly passed and the Doctor softly said, "Alright…alright…"

"I'm sorry," Mycroft sadly burst out.

"Don't be," the Doctor sincerely assured him.

Mycroft hesitated before slowly asking, "What would you have chosen?"

The Doctor opened his mouth but he too couldn't provide an answer.

Mycroft's heart sank and he quietly said, "Ah."

"Mycroft…"

Mycroft turned away from him, staring out at the universe.

"I'm sorry," the Doctor quietly spoke up.

"Don't be," Mycroft repeated his own words.

For a moment, the two stood side-by-side. The Doctor reached out and habitually put his arm around Mycroft's shoulders. For once, Mycroft actually tensed and didn't lean against him.

"Are you two coming or what?" Sherlock impatiently called.

Mycroft took a deep breath before softly saying, "Doctor?"

"Yeah?"

"Polo."

The Doctor's face broke into a smile and he happily chased Mycroft to the swimming pool. Mycroft grabbed an amused Sherlock and the two dove into the pool; clothes and all.

As the three splashed around and laughed, Mycroft willed himself to forget about the solemn conversation that he had had with the Doctor.

For sometimes certain questions should be left alone.

Author's Note: This was another chapter that I've had in mind for several months. Well, most of it…Originally, Sherlock wasn't put into as much danger. Subsequently, Mycroft and the Doctor didn't originally have the conversation that they did. A conversation with no real answers. None that want to be revealed, anyway. The Doctor loves the brothers and they both love him. But at the end of the day, the Doctor needs to protect the universe and Mycroft needs to protect Sherlock. And at the end of the day, Mycroft has to make some really hard decisions.