Chapter Thirty-Seven
"Where's Sherlock?"
The frantic cry escaped Mycroft's mouth as he anxiously exited the Tardis. He was in the waiting room of a lavish-looking hospital. Several matrons looked up in alarm but he completely ignored them. The Doctor came up behind him and repeated the question.
"Mycroft? Doctor!"
Jack was racing down the corridor.
"Where is he?" Mycroft demanded, "Where…how…how is he?"
Jack hesitated before quietly saying, "He's…stable."
"Stable?" Mycroft repeated, "What does that mean?"
"His vitals…" Jack tried to explain, "They're…stable."
"Well, of course they are," Mycroft spluttered, "Why wouldn't they be?"
Jack gave him a weird look and Mycroft suddenly realized how exhausted he looked.
Sherlock was stable…
Why would Jack even tell him that?
Unless…
Unless there had been a point where he wasn't stable…
"Wh…what…" Mycroft stammered, not understanding. He glanced at the Doctor and saw that the Time Lord also looked confused…and afraid.
"It's okay," Jack softly assured him, "He's…he's alright…"
Jack buried his face in his hands before bursting out, "Where were you?"
The Doctor looked stunned and asked, "What do you mean? I told you to give us five minutes…I wanted to calm Mycroft down…"
Jack stared at him for a moment, quite expressionless, before closing his eyes and exasperatedly whispering, "No…oh no…no, no…Doctor…"
"What?" Mycroft gasped, now terrified, "What?"
"It hasn't been five minutes," Jack whispered, "It's been five hours."
Jack might as well have punched Mycroft in the stomach. Mycroft reeled back, horrified, as he realized what Jack was saying. Five hours. Not five minutes. They were five hours late…the Doctor must have pushed the wrong button. He had made a mistake…a horrible mistake…mistake…Sherlock had been in the hospital for five hours…he was stable…he was now stable but he wasn't…he had been unstable…unstable…unstable…but that meant…
"No," Mycroft whispered, numbly, "No…"
Sherlock had been unstable…Mycroft took one look at the exhausted and pained look on Jack's face and knew…Sherlock had been close to death…and Mycroft hadn't been there.
Sherlock could have died and Mycroft wouldn't have been there.
"No," Mycroft croaked, "It…I…no…"
"Mycroft," the Doctor whispered, looking crushed, "Mycroft, I'm so sorry."
He reached out but Mycroft shrugged away and numbly whispered, "D…don't…no…"
By now, his chest was tightening and his face was burning. No…Sherlock…no…
"He's okay," Jack quietly repeated, "Mycroft, Sherlock is okay."
And Jack was telling the truth. Sherlock was okay. Now. But he hadn't been.
Mycroft's entire body trembled and he clutched his head.
"Mycroft, stay with us," the Doctor sharply said.
A few matrons raced over, looking concerned.
"I'm so sorry, Mycroft," the Doctor sadly repeated.
And that's right about the time that Mycroft snapped.
"Do you ever do anything right?" Mycroft screamed, "Besides hurt people? Because you have a wonderful reputation of doing that!"
"Mycroft!"
It was surprisingly Jack who angrily yelled; the Doctor was too hurt to even speak.
Jack grabbed the crook of Mycroft's elbow and led him into the next room. Mycroft tugged away and glared at him through hot and stinging tears.
"Listen," Jack gently said, "You're raving. I understand. Sherlock is hurt and…"
"No!" Mycroft roared, "I stand by it! Rose, Donna, Amy, Rory…those are just some of the people who were hurt by the Doctor…"
"Mycroft," Jack tried to interject.
"You cannot die!" Mycroft shouted, "Don't you ever regret that?"
Jack didn't answer and Mycroft continued, "People who know the Doctor get hurt."
"Listen," Jack quietly said, "When you're travelling with the Doctor, your first mission is to protect the Doctor. And it's not always easy. But it has to be done. Because he protects everyone and he needs somebody to protect him. And sometimes you get hurt. And…and sometimes the people you know get hurt. That's part of being a companion."
"THEN I DON'T WANT TO BE A COMPANION!" Mycroft bellowed.
Jack reeled back, utterly shocked.
"I don't want to be a companion!" Mycroft dangerously whispered, "Not if it means that Sherlock is going to get hurt. I shouldn't have ever been one. I should have known how dangerous it was going to be. Everybody says that I'm brilliant but I'm not! Because if I'm really that brilliant, I would have seen the warnings. The fact that no companion has ever stayed with the Doctor forever, often not by choice…the near-brushes with death…but I didn't know…"
"You didn't know what?" Jack slowly asked.
"I didn't know that all of this was going to happen when I first told Sherlock that we could travel with the Doctor to see pirates," Mycroft seethed, "If I had…if I had known that he was going to be hurt…I would have dragged him right back into the flat."
"But all of the fun you had…" Jack pressed, "Think about that. Think about how much the Doctor has changed your life. None of that would have happened…"
"But Sherlock would have been safe."
"Oh, at what cost, Mycroft?" Jack angrily retorted, "Do you think that his life would be the same if these past six months had never existed? Of course not! He has grown, he has changed, he has been amazing. You have too, by the way. And yes, you have both gotten hurt along the way, but do you honestly think that he would have been better off sitting in the flat with your father breathing down his neck, with you being the only one who really cares about him, as he never realizes just how brilliant he is?"
Mycroft brought his hands to his head and murmured, "I know…I know! And these past six months…I honestly cannot describe how much it means…how much travelling with the Doctor has meant…how much seeing the universe, meeting you and River, meeting the most interesting creatures that all looked like something from my imagination…it means so much."
He took a deep breath and continued, "And I'm going to miss it."
"Mycroft," Jack said, alarmed, "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that it's time for us to go," Mycroft quietly said.
It was Jack's turn to look as though he had been punched.
Mycroft sadly continued, "I do want to be a companion. I do. But…but not if it means that Sherlock is going to get hurt. And I'm sorry if that makes me a coward or selfish or means that I fail as a companion…"
"Nobody will ever think that."
The quiet remark caused chills to creep up Mycroft's spine. He whirled around and saw that the Doctor was standing in the doorway. His eyes were shining with a sadness that came from twelve-hundred years of fighting. It was the same look that Mycroft had briefly seen two and a half years ago, when they were sitting on top of the Tardis and the Doctor told him that he knew what it was like to lose someone. Jack quickly mumbled something about going to sit with Sherlock and left. He squeezed past the Doctor who remained standing in the doorway. Mycroft swallowed and remained standing where he was.
"Nobody will ever think that," the Doctor quietly repeated, "Because I will never let them. Mycroft Holmes, you are brilliant. You and Sherlock both. And nobody will ever doubt that. Well, that's not necessarily true. But the ones who are really important will remember."
He stepped forward and continued, "River and Jack will remember. I will remember. We will remember just how brilliant the two of you are…And I really, really hope that you and Sherlock will remember."
Mycroft nodded, suddenly feeling deflated, and shakily said, "We'll remember. Of course we'll remember. We'll remember everything that you've done for us…I mean…you're…you're our Doctor. And…I'm sorry."
"Let me ask you something, Mycroft," the Doctor softly asked, "How do you really feel about leaving?"
"I need to protect Sherlock," Mycroft mumbled.
"Don't," the Doctor groaned, looking pained, "I mean…don't give me that answer."
"W…what?" Mycroft spluttered, "Why not? It's the truth."
"It's part of the truth," the Doctor agreed, "But it's not the whole truth. The first night that I met you, you gave me that same answer when I asked how you felt about your mother's death. Please don't tell me that nothing has changed. Please. I understand that protecting Sherlock is your biggest priority. But right now, Sherlock isn't here. So, how do you feel?"
Mycroft didn't answer and the Doctor slowly said, "Mycroft…"
Mycroft couldn't help it. He broke down.
"Hey," the Doctor gently said.
The Time Lord opened his arms and Mycroft ran into them.
"Sssh," the Doctor whispered, "It's okay…it's okay…"
"I'm sorry," Mycroft croaked, "I'm so sorry, Doctor!"
The Doctor tightly hugged him and quietly said, "I'm sorry, too. I know that I have said this thousands of times but…Mycroft Holmes you are brilliant. You are absolutely brilliant and I am so sorry. I'm sorry that Sherlock is hurt. I'm sorry that you're hurt. I'm sorry that you're leaving. I'm sorry that Sherlock isn't going to understand why you're leaving. But I understand. I completely understand. Mycroft, all that I've ever wanted was for you and your brother to be happy and safe. And if that means that you need to leave, then I understand. I'm going to miss the two of you…more than you can ever imagine…but I understand. And don't you ever say that you have failed as a companion…because you and Sherlock are two of the best companions that I have ever had."
"Were," Mycroft miserably corrected.
"Are," the Doctor stood by what he had said, "You don't stop being a companion, just because you stop travelling in the Tardis."
He held Mycroft for a few moments longer, until Mycroft found the strength to carry on.
And even then, the Doctor still held him.
"Are you going to be okay?" Mycroft asked.
"Don't worry about me," the Doctor assured him, "I'll be alright. And so will you."
He could hear the smile in the Doctor's voice as the Time Lord warmly said, "Mycroft, I'm not sure if I've ever told you this but…your mother would be so proud of you."
It was, perhaps, the best compliment that Mycroft could receive.
"Thank you," Mycroft sincerely said, finally pulling back, "Doctor, thank you for everything. Thank you."
"Mycroft…" the Doctor started with a smile.
He then hesitated before saying, "You are quite welcome."
Jack knocked on the frame of the doorway, solemnly saying, "Sorry to interrupt. They're about to wake Sherlock up."
They solemnly followed Jack into the corridor but Mycroft stopped outside the ward. He wished that he had remembered to grab a handkerchief. He didn't want Sherlock to see that he had been crying. The Doctor wordlessly pulled one from his pocket and handed it over. Mycroft appreciatively wiped his eyes and the Doctor quickly said, "Keep it."
Mycroft took a deep breath and muttered, "It's a pretty anticlimactic end to our story…"
The Doctor smiled and sincerely said, "It's not the end of your story, Mycroft. It's the end of the chapter."