Author's Note: Define 'too sad'…Listen, I will fully admit that this chapter and the next two are the hardest chapters in the entire story. Forget Mrs. Holmes' death. Forget taking Anne Frank to the museum. These next few chapters were torturous to write and I literally broke down crying a few times. So…on that note…Geronimo…
Chapter Thirty-Six
A shrill alarm sounded through the Tardis. Mycroft and Sherlock abruptly woke up, the latter confusedly asking, "What's going on?"
"I don't know!" Mycroft exclaimed, "Come along! Quickly!"
The two raced down the corridor and the Doctor burst through one of the doors. A billow of black smoke followed him but the Doctor quickly closed it off.
"Oh," the Doctor pleasantly exclaimed, "Morning! I made pancakes!"
He showed them the tall stack of flapjacks and cheerfully continued, "I cooked them myself; using the actual kitchen, not just the console! It took a few times to get it right but…"
"Thanks, Doctor!" Sherlock excitedly cried.
"Yes, thanks," Mycroft politely said before adding, "We have a kitchen?"
"Not anymore," the Doctor slowly admitted, "It…err…it burned down…"
Mycroft and Sherlock amusedly raised their eyebrows.
The Doctor hastily continued, "Let's move away from this door, shall we?"
They went out into the console room where they eagerly dug in. They were delicious and the brothers told him so. The Doctor thanked them through a mouthful of blueberries, "I wanted to make it up to you after what happened yesterday. And wait until you see what I've got planned for today. We're going to slide down the frozen waves in Antarctica."
"You don't have to make up for anything," Mycroft assured him.
"But I want to," the Doctor kindly said, "We just need to stop by Cardiff to pick up some equipment from Jack."
The boys quickly got dressed and the Doctor happily pulled the lever. The Tardis began the routine shaking and grumbling. Quite suddenly, however, a retched noise filled the console room and it began to spin out of control.
"What's happening?" Sherlock shrieked—the last thing that Mycroft heard before he was thrown into the console.
"Mycroft? Sherlock? Wake up. Come on, wake up. That's it…very good…"
Mycroft blinked, nauseous and disorientated. Sherlock was sprawled nearby. The Doctor was crouched between them, looking worried.
"Are we in that building again?" Sherlock dazedly asked, "The scary one?"
"No, no," the Doctor assuredly said, "You both hit your heads off the console."
Mycroft rubbed the aching bump and Sherlock stuck out his bottom lip as he felt a bump of his own. The Doctor gently pushed their hands away. A flash of golden light later…
"No," Mycroft groaned, "I mean, thank you, but…"
"But nothing," the Doctor assured him, though he did wince, "It's okay."
"River would kill you," Mycroft muttered.
"River isn't here," the Doctor pointed out, "And I don't need concussed companions."
"Where are we?" Sherlock asked, "What happened to the power?"
"I don't know," the Doctor admitted, "Come along."
They stood up and apprehensively opened the door. The Doctor frowned and said, "We are in Torchwood Three. Why did the Tardis go haywire?"
"Did you remember to remind her that she's beautiful?" Mycroft teased.
The Doctor smirked but it quickly slipped away.
"What's wrong?" Sherlock asked.
"Something's not right," the Doctor whispered, "Everything's…frozen."
Mycroft and Sherlock glanced around and realized that he was right. It was as if somebody had hit PAUSE on a video. People were frozen in place. A stack of falling papers hung suspended in midair. The clocks remained immobile.
"What…?" Mycroft gasped.
He slowly crossed over to the stack of falling papers. He hesitated before reaching out and grabbing one. He could—as if somebody had handed it to him. It was surreal. The Doctor hurried down the corridor and the brothers followed. They anxiously burst into Jack's office.
"Jack?" Sherlock whispered, terrified.
"Oh no," Mycroft cried.
They quickly raced over to the petrified man. His face was frozen into an expression of shock and fear. He was glancing down at his cellphone.
"Who was he calling?" Mycroft solemnly asked.
The Doctor checked the number and softly replied, "Me."
He groaned, rested his forehead against Jack's. At last, he sadly whispered, "Okay. It's okay. I'm going to make this right."
"We don't even know what we have to make right," Sherlock pointed out, a touch of fear creeping into his voice.
"Time has stopped," Mycroft whispered, trying to grasp the concept.
"This is bad," the Doctor quietly said, "This is…very bad."
"What do we do?" Sherlock anxiously asked.
"I don't know," the Doctor admitted, "I don't know! The Tardis is down…well of course…there aren't any time streams to latch on to and we had a pretty bad crash…"
"We need to find out if this is isolated or not," Mycroft suddenly said.
"Good idea," the Doctor praised, "Come on!"
"We'll be back, Jack," Sherlock promised, "Don't worry!"
They quickly raced outside. Cars were frozen on the street. People were petrified in mid-step. Even the birds were frozen in midflight.
"This is eerie," Sherlock admitted.
The three of them jumped as something stirred to the left.
A child not much older than Sherlock peered out of a shrub.
"Oh, hello," the Doctor cried, clearly surprised, "I'm the Doctor. Are you alright?"
The child frantically raced away. He looked human enough, though he was wearing a purple cloak.
"Wait," the Doctor called, "It's alright!"
They raced after him and realized that the child wasn't alone. Other children emerged and from the sewers and alleyways, all wearing purple cloaks. They avoided the Doctor, Sherlock, and Mycroft and instead grouped together as they raced away at impossible speeds.
"What is going on?" Sherlock cried.
"I have no…LOOK OUT!"
The Doctor dove on top of the brothers as a double-decker bus zoomed around the corner, nearly crushing them. It screeched to a halt as the three scrambled to their feet.
The door opened and River poked her head out before calmly saying, "Sorry, Sweetie."
The Doctor sighed with relief and said, "Always a pleasure to see you, dear."
"River, what's happening?" Sherlock anxiously asked.
"And why are you driving a bus?" Mycroft spluttered.
"My vortex manipulator doesn't work," River explained, "Along with the rest of time."
"So…why the bus…?"
"Because," River impatiently cried, "I needed to get over here! I landed in London."
The Doctor grinned and asked, "I suppose you used the Sonic to hotwire?"
River smiled and sweetly said, "Just like our honeymoon."
"Sorry to interrupt," Mycroft dryly asked, "How long did it take you to make the two hour trip from London to here?"
"Oh, time is irrelative right now, Mycroft," River absentmindedly said, "Besides, there weren't any cops to pull me over."
She smirked at his worried look and continued, "The Doctor told me that you were going to go sliding down the waves in Antarctica so I assumed that you'd stop by here to get some equipment. Now, what's with the children?"
"That's what we're trying to figure out," the Doctor admitted.
Another purple-cloaked boy raced up the street, barely glancing at them.
The Doctor gently jumped in front of him, blocking his way as he cried, "Whoa, there."
The child leapt back.
"It's alright," the Doctor hastily assured him, "I just want to talk to you. I'm the Doctor and you are?"
The boy didn't answer and instead stared at him, clearly terrified.
River squinted before sharply saying, "He's a thief!"
She grabbed his shoulder and shook. Sure enough, several silver pocket-watches fell from the boy's cloak. His eyes widened with guilt.
The Doctor frowned and asked, "Where did you get these?"
The boy merely blinked.
"Can you speak?"
He shook his head.
"But you can understand me?"
The Doctor received a nod.
"Why can't you speak?"
A blank stare.
Mycroft hesitated before asking, "Are you allowed to speak?"
The boy looked slightly relieved that he understood and shook his head.
"Why not?" River crisply asked.
He merely blinked in response.
"These other children," the Doctor quietly said, "Are they your brothers and sisters?"
The boy hesitated before waving his hand, as if to say 'sort of'.
"Do you have parents?"
The boy shook his head, trying to wrench away from River, who was now gently but firmly clinging onto his arm.
"Who is in charge of you?" Sherlock asked.
The boy began to nervously shake.
"It's alright," the Doctor softly said, "We'll protect you. We'll protect all of you."
But his fear was too strong. His eyes filled with tears and River loosened her grip.
"I have an idea," Mycroft suddenly cried.
He raced over to a frozen businessman and apologetically opened his briefcase, taking out a piece of paper and pen.
He ran back over and gently said, "You can't speak. Can you write?"
The boy looked thoughtful before breaking out into a mischievous smile. Mycroft handed him the pen and paper and the boy wrote:
We are the Children of Time.
The Doctor gently asked, "What's your name?"
I do not have a name.
The Doctor frowned but changed the subject, "Now, where did you get those watches?"
I stole them. I'm sorry.
"You should be," the Doctor reprimanded, "Stealing is not nice."
"Not nice?" River repeated, "Doctor, stop sugar-coating things! Why did you steal the pocket-watches and who are they for? You better start talking! Talk! Now!"
The boy burst into silent tears.
"River," the Doctor sighed.
Sherlock frowned before stepping forward and gently asking, "It's alright. River can be a bit…abrupt…but she means well. We don't want to hurt you. We just want to understand what's going on. Right now, we're confused and I don't like being confused."
The boy stopped crying, clearly pleased that he was talking to somebody of his own age.
Sherlock continued, "Do you want a biscuit? My brother has some in his pocket."
Mycroft flushed at the accusation but pulled one out. The boy gave him a hopeful smile, prompting Mycroft to gently hand it over.
The boy swallowed it whole before happily writing:
The watches are a present for Time. We bring him many presents.
"Him?" Sherlock repeated, "What…?"
The Doctor also looked confused and asked, "Will you take us to…him?"
I cannot. It is against the rules.
"Please," the Doctor gently said, "We're going to help you."
"We're not going to hurt you," Mycroft promised.
The boy hesitated before glancing at River. He took a step towards Mycroft.
"What's wrong?" Mycroft asked, surprised.
The boy's knees trembled as he pointed towards the tip of the blaster that was sticking out of River's pocket.
"What, this?" River asked, pulling it out.
The boy leapt behind Mycroft and River quickly pocketed it, crying, "I'm sorry! Don't worry; I don't blast children."
"She blasts anyone who threatens children," Sherlock added with a smirk.
"Trust us," Mycroft kindly said, "River and the Doctor are on our side. We're your friends; we're going to help you."
He handed the boy another biscuit and he sheepishly wrote:
I am sorry. I don't like weapons.
The Doctor frowned and growled, "Has anybody threatened you with a weapon before?"
The boy's face said it all and the Doctor clenched his fists.
The child stepped back but the Doctor gently said, "No, no. Make no mistake; I am not angry at you. You have done nothing wrong. Do you understand? We're going to help you and the other children. But we need to find out what the threat is. Will you please take us?"
The boy reluctantly nodded.
"You three go ahead," River told the Doctor, Mycroft, and Sherlock, "I'm going to break back into Torchwood and see if I can find any information."
"Be careful," the Doctor gently told her.
River snorted but gently promised that she would. She gave him a quick peck and the boy began to run. Mycroft, Sherlock, and the Doctor quickly followed him. A few minutes of chasing turned into a quarter of an hour. At one point, the Doctor picked up Sherlock and gave him a piggy-back ride. The other children joined them until it was a sea of boys and girls.
Mycroft was the first to see the giant airship. It looked like a colossal blimp made out of metal. The brothers gasped as the children drew near. Everyone grouped together and the boys suddenly felt a sucking sensation as they were pulled onto the ship.
They blinked and realized that they were all standing in a sterile corridor. The children began to walk single-file. They were expressionless and zombie-like.
The Doctor tapped the boy's shoulder and mouthed, "Where are they going?"
He quickly wrote:
We must return to our chambers. I am sorry, Doctor, but adults aren't to enter.
"Aren't or won't?"
The boy blinked and the Doctor sighed before whispering, "And where is your…leader?"
We cannot see Time yet. He will call us and we shall present him with our gifts.
The Doctor nodded and whispered, "But where is he?"
The boy raised a trembling finger to a magnificent looking door before writing:
Follow the corridor.
"What do you want us to do?" Mycroft softly asked.
The Doctor sighed and muttered, "I hate to say this…I'm sorry but I need you to follow the children. You should be able to blend in with them."
"What?" Sherlock squeaked.
"Sssh," the Doctor whispered, "We need to find out where they're going. We need to find out what kind of hell they're experiencing. I'll sneak forward and find this man. Take these cameras and collect as much photographic evidence as possible. You two are the smartest children that I know. You'll figure it out. I know you will. You're brilliant."
"Okay," Mycroft whispered, "Be careful."
"You too."
The boy tugged on Sherlock and Mycroft's sleeves, leaving them no choice but to step in line. They carefully walked down the corridor, trying not to make any noise.
They followed the labyrinth of corridors until they reached a small door. The children filed through and Mycroft nearly gagged. Sherlock had to cover his nose. They were standing in a disgusting room that was lined with feces and urine. Cots lined the floor with tattered rags that might have passed as blankets.
"Bloody hell," Sherlock mouthed.
"Don't swear," Mycroft hissed in his ear.
Sherlock frowned at the criticism before taking out the cameras. The brothers silently went around, taking pictures of the dismal scene. They pulled spare purple cloaks from the wall and put them on. Meanwhile, the children all sat and wordlessly compared one another's gifts.
The boy who had led them to the ship anxiously crept over. Mycroft took the piece of paper and pen, heatedly writing:
This is horrible! Why are you here? Who is doing this to you?
The boy gently took the pen and wrote:
Time.
"What does that mean?" Sherlock whispered but the boy clamped a hand over his mouth.
You must never talk. NEVER! Children should be seen; not heard.
Mycroft's heart ached at the fearful comment and he quickly wrote:
Or what?
The boy swallowed and Mycroft added:
The weapons?
He nodded.
So . . . Time . . . keeps you locked up, travels around the universe, freezes the time streams of different planets, and sends you down to steal the valuables?
The boy nodded again and wrote:
Correct.
A loud bell suddenly echoed through the entire ship.
The children all stood up, collecting their valuables. One-by-one, they filed back into the corridor with a wary Mycroft and Sherlock in tow. They entered the door that the boy had pointed to earlier, revealing a throne-room of sorts.
An ancient-looking man with cold eyes and a long white beard was sitting on the throne.
"My children," he boomed, "What have you brought for me?"
"You have a funny way of looking after your children."
Mycroft and Sherlock smiled as the Doctor emerged from the shadows.
The man was clearly caught off guard and spluttered, "And who are you?"
"I'm the Doctor," the Doctor quietly introduced himself, "Who are you?"
"I am Time."
The Doctor raised an eyebrow and coolly repeated, "Time."
"It's a little nickname of mine," Time smugly explained, "By using my gadgets, I can control time. Or more specifically, the time streams."
Time held up his arm. He was wearing a metal glove with several buttons and panels.
"I can manipulate any time streams. I can completely stop them. I can implode them."
"Implode them?"
"Yes," Time snickered, "It's a hobby of mine. I freeze every time stream that a planet has to offer. I send my children to collect the valuables. Then I crash the time streams together until they completely collapse upon each other."
The Doctor looked momentarily shocked before softly summarizing, "No more time."
"No more time."
"Doesn't that make your job rather obsolete?" Sherlock spoke up.
Time drew himself up, outraged as he bellowed, "WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE TO TALK BACK TO ME?"
Sherlock and Mycroft stepped out of line, much to the horror of the other children.
They hesitated before running over to the Doctor. The Doctor pulled them into a quick hug and hastily whispered, "Are you two alright?"
Sherlock nodded and Mycroft muttered, "We have evidence."
The Doctor gratefully pocketed the cameras.
"CHILDREN SHOULD NOT BE HEARD!"
The Doctor shook with fury as he quietly said, "You are in no position to tell these children what they can or cannot do."
"Am I not?"
The Doctor's eyes blazed as he exclaimed, "You may be Time. But I am your Lord."
He clamped a hand on either brother's shoulder, growling, "And these are my children."
The doors burst open and Jack abruptly entered. He immediately raised a Sonic blaster and sent Time crashing back into the wall. The Children of Time all leapt back.
"Oi," River cheerfully exclaimed, coming in after him, "That's my job!"
"Jack!" Sherlock and Mycroft cried with relief.
"Turns out that this ship is a neutral zone," Jack cheerfully said, "Everything associated with or inside the ship unfreezes."
"How did you get him up here?" Mycroft asked, amused.
River smirked and explained, "I dragged him outside, put him in a helicopter, and crashed said helicopter through the wall of the ship."
Time started to stir and River shot him with one of her own blasters.
"By the way, Doctor," Jack urgently said, "There's a strange man and a bunch of children going around and stopping the time streams on Earth."
"Got that," the Doctor said with a smile.
"Just wanted to let you know," Jack chuckled, "Honestly, thanks for the save, River."
"Ah, don't mention it," River said, "Thank you for the compact laser deluxe; I needed to replace my old one. Although I don't know why you had to go to the bathroom to retrieve it…"
"Because," Jack said with a grin, "The Doctor would throw me into the Infinite Void if I got it out in front of you."
River stared at the weapon for a moment before slowly handing it back, "On second thought, you can just keep it."
Jack snickered and Mycroft exasperatedly shook his head.
Meanwhile, the Doctor pulled Time up by the scruff of his robe. The fury of the Time Lords shone in his eyes as he stared at the man who dared to mess with time.
"Unfreeze everything," the Doctor commanded, "NOW!"
Time faltered before snapping his fingers. And just like that, the world continued to spin.
Sherlock and Mycroft let out huge sighs of relief, glancing through the window to see that people were continuing their day-to-day business.
"River," the Doctor quietly continued, "Might I ask you to take the…Children of Time down to Torchwood?
River sharply nodded and gently said, "Come along. Hold hands…"
The Children of Time nervously grouped around her and she used her vortex manipulator to safely lead them away. Mycroft and Sherlock stayed behind.
"As for you," the Doctor growled, still clinging onto Time, "You have a lot of nerve to manipulate children like that."
Time suddenly launched forward, tackling the Doctor to the ground. Jack raised his weapon but he couldn't get a clear shot. The Time Lord and Time fought one another. Quite abruptly, they smashed through the window of the ship and fell to the streets below.
"DOCTOR!" Sherlock and Mycroft shrieked.
"Come on!" Jack gasped, grabbing the brothers and hitting his vortex manipulator.
They arrived in an alleyway below and immediately raced over to the heap that was Time and the Time Lord.
"Doctor?" Sherlock cried, "Doctor, are you alright?"
"Fine," the Doctor assuredly said, standing up, "It takes more than a fall to do me in."
Mycroft and Sherlock hugged him, relieved, and Jack clapped him on the back. The four then turned as Time managed to shakily pull himself to his knees.
"It's over," the Doctor quietly said.
Time drew back, snickering as he asked, "I appreciate you devoting your time to protecting my children. But who's going to protect yours?"
He abruptly raised his glove hand, which crackled and popped with electricity. He then lashed out, sending a huge electrical surge towards Sherlock. The youngest Holmes brother writhed like a puppet as the fierce current surged through his entire body. And then the invisible strings that were controlling him seemed to snap as he crumpled to the ground.
Time cackled before hitting a vortex manipulator of his own, vanishing.
Mycroft opened his mouth but could not hear his own scream. Sherlock was nothing more than a heap on the ground. He wasn't moving. Why wasn't he moving? He should have been crying or…something. He wasn't doing anything. Mycroft blindly charged forward but felt somebody grab him around the stomach. The Doctor was kneeling next to Sherlock but Mycroft couldn't hear what the Time Lord was saying. He couldn't hear anything. He could barely see anything. What was happening? He was blinded and deafened by fear. Mycroft briefly realized that Jack was the one holding onto him and felt fury overtake his fear. It was as if Jack was preventing him from reaching his brother. Sherlock wasn't moving. Wasn't moving. He wasn't moving and Mycroft couldn't get to him. Then Sherlock was making a strange noise. He was softly crying and then loudly crying and then screaming and Mycroft heard his own name.
"Let me go!" Mycroft snapped but it came out in a strange grunt.
As a last resort, he swung his leg back and stomped on Jack's foot. Jack grunted and momentarily loosened his grip. Mycroft ran forward only to be blocked by the Doctor who had abruptly leapt up to restrain him. He tightly and apologetically wrapped his arm around Mycroft's chest. Try as he might, Mycroft simply couldn't fight off the Time Lord.
"Mycroft, it's alright," the Doctor grunted, "Listen to me…stop…crying…"
Mycroft wanted to protest that he wasn't crying but he realized that there were tears streaming down his face.
"Jack," the Doctor was saying, "Do you have your vortex manipulator?"
"Of course," Jack responded, "Sisters of the Infinite Schism?"
Mycroft didn't know what he was talking about but the Doctor appeared to because he nodded and Jack walked over to Sherlock. He hit a button on his cell-phone and the Tardis materialized nearby.
"Give us five minutes," the Doctor called, "We're right behind you."
"NO, NO!" Mycroft bellowed, "GET AWAY FROM HIM!"
He blinked and the two were gone.
"SHERLOCK!"
Mycroft cautiously entered the room to the hospital. His mother was sitting up in the bed, grinning from ear to ear.
"Hello, dear," Mrs. Holmes tenderly said, "Come here."
Mycroft smiled as he raced over. His mother tightly hugged him and whispered, "Would you like to meet him?"
Mycroft apprehensively nodded and turned to the small cot. His brother blinked up at him with an immense curiosity. He already had a crop of black curls.
"Hi Sherlock," Mycroft shyly murmured, "I'm your brother…"
"Mycroft…listen…to…me…" the Doctor whispered, "Stop! Please…stop!"
Mycroft ignored him, still struggling to get to the brother that was no longer there.
"Hey, hey, hey," the Doctor continued, "It's alright. It's going to be alright. Please don't cry. Don't. Sherlock is going to be fine."
Mycroft whirled around and tried to madly fight him off. The Doctor gently caught his wrists and pulled him into a hug.
Mrs. Holmes drew Mycroft into a hug and softly said, "Being a big brother is a lot of responsibility. I'm going to count on you to protect Sherlock."
"I will, Mum," Mycroft absentmindedly said, not quite understanding.
"It's going to be alright," the Doctor repeated, tightly hugging Mycroft, "Sherlock's going to be fine. Everything's going to be alright."
She was in the hospital bed once more. Only, Mycroft knew that things were different.
Things would never be the same.
Mycroft swallowed as he cautiously entered the room.
His mother looked up and managed to warmly smile. She extended her hand and he slowly started forward before racing over. Mrs. Holmes tightly hugged him.
"Everything's going to be fine."
"Mum," Mycroft croaked, "Can I ask you something?"
"Of course, love."
"Are you sick?"
His mother sighed though she still smiled as she replied, "Yes, dear. I'm afraid so."
"When are you going to get better?" Mycroft whispered, though he already knew the answer. He was ten years old but he knew that his mother wasn't going to get better. Because he was brilliant. Mycroft Holmes was brilliant.
"You're brilliant," the Doctor whispered, "You and Sherlock are both brilliant and I am never going to let anything happen to you. Sherlock is going to be fine. I promise."
"Mycroft," Mrs. Holmes lovingly said, "Come sit beside me…"
She shifted over so that Mycroft could sit down. Mycroft leaned against her and she hugged him, gently asking, "How are your studies?"
"I'm at the top of my class," Mycroft declared.
"Naturally," Mrs. Holmes proudly said, "You're the brightest child in London."
Mycroft flushed with pride before muttering, "It would be easier if Sherlock would stop nicking my textbooks!"
Mrs. Holmes laughed and said, "Don't be too cross. He's your brother, after all."
"I know," Mycroft sighed, still scowling.
His mother held him for a moment before quietly saying, "Darling, I need you to promise me something."
"What?"
"I need you to look after Sherlock," Mrs. Holmes quietly said, "Will you do that?"
"Alright," Mycroft slowly remarked, thoroughly confused.
"I'm serious, love," Mrs. Holmes tenderly continued, "He might occasionally annoy you but he's still your brother. He needs you. And I need you to protect him."
"Come along," the Doctor whispered, pulling Mycroft into the Tardis, "Sshh…come along, now. We'll go to the hospital. It's the best hospital in the universe. They're going to take good care of him. You'll see."
"I was supposed to do it," Mycroft numbly croaked.
The Doctor faltered and asked, "You were supposed to do what?"
"I was supposed to take care of Sherlock," Mycroft sadly whispered, "I was supposed to protect him."
"Okay, Mum," Mycroft whispered, "I promise."
And five years later, he had broken that promise. The Doctor let go of him long enough to hit several buttons. He then whirled around, put his hands on Mycroft's shoulders, and passionately said, "Trust me…everything is going to be fine."
"You are brilliant, Mycroft," Mrs. Holmes gently said, "You are absolutely brilliant."
"Everything is going to be alright."
And Mycroft believed him.
Author's Note: I told my brother that I was going to write a parallel between Sherlock getting hurt and Mrs. Holmes telling Mycroft to protect him. He began bawling, just from me telling him what I was going to do; that wasn't even reading the chapter! Actually, he refuses to have me read this chapter or the next few. I hope you're not all too upset. Save your tears for the next chapter…
Songs. Music. Music is good, right? When writing these few chapters, I again listened to Athlete's "Chances", The Cinematic Orchestra's "To Build A Home" and—especially when writing the next chapter—Shinedown's "Simple Man". Again, it just really fits Mycroft. It wasn't my intention to make it fit and it's actually quite scary how well it fits. But it does.
Anyway, I promise that I will upload the next chapter tomorrow. I'm not about to leave you on a long cliffhanger. I'm not that heartless. Then again, the next chapter isn't going to be any happier. All stories must end and this story is going to have a happy ending. I will promise you that. But before we reach the light, we must carry on through the darkness. Geronimo…