Author's Note: Before we get to Sherlock waking up and the part that we've been dreading, I want to show Jack's point-of-view from the time he left Mycroft to talk to the Doctor:
Jack took a deep breath as he leaned against the wall of the corridor. It had been a long five hours…
His phone suddenly rang and he wearily answered it.
"Where have you been?" River sharply cried, "I'm not your employee, you know. Nor am I the Doctor's babysitter."
"How are the children?" Jack miserably asked.
"They're better. Your lot is taking care of them. No help from you—"
"River," Jack interjected, slightly annoyed, "Sherlock's hurt."
There was a pause before River gasped, "What?"
"We're at Sisters of the Infinite Schism. He's…"
Jack wryly smiled as she appeared next to him and demanded to know what had happened. He slowly hung up and solemnly explained, "Time electrocuted him. Don't worry; he's alright."
River frowned, evidently suspicious as she snapped, "Look at you! You look as though you're about to collapse from exhaustion."
"Well, he's alright now," Jack clarified, "But…his heart…stopped…"
River clamped a hand over her mouth and whispered, "No…"
"The matrons bought him back," Jack gently said, "But yeah…it was…pretty scary."
He backed up against the wall and sat down.
River knelt next to him and asked, "All right?"
"It's been a long five hours," Jack mumbled.
"Five hours?" River yelped.
Jack sighed and said, "Yeah. And what's worse, the Doctor and Mycroft just arrived a few minutes ago. He put in five hours instead of five minutes…"
River groaned before softly asking, "So you had to deal with it on your own?"
"On my own," Jack glumly remarked, "Have you ever heard Sherlock cry, River?"
She grimly nodded and he continued, "That has to be the most heartbreaking sound in the universe."
"I know," River gently replied before asking, "Where is the Doctor?"
"Talking to Mycroft," Jack said, nodding down the corridor, "He's pretty hysterical."
"The Doctor?"
"Mycroft," Jack corrected, "Though, I can't even imagine how the Doctor must be feeling right now. Especially now that…"
He hesitated and River sharply said, "What?"
"Mycroft's taking Sherlock home," Jack sadly explained.
"What?" River roared, leaping to her feet, "When I get my hands on Mycroft…"
She stomped down the corridor before suddenly stopping. She looked rather deflated, prompting Jack to ask, "What's wrong?"
"Mycroft's crying," River softly said, "Hmm…it looks like there's a tie for the most heartbreaking sound in the universe."
Jack sighed and scrambled to his feet, "Let's go wait in Sherlock's room…this isn't going to be easy…"
"Alright," River reluctantly agreed, "But at some point, you need to go back and help your team take care of those children."
"River," Jack sadly pointed out, "Right now, there are only two children in the universe that matter to the Doctor…and he's about to lose both of them."
Well that was cheerful. Alright…Geronimo…
And I built a home for you, for me, until it disappeared, from me, from you. And now it's time . . . to leave.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Sherlock was floating on a cloud. His eyelids were heavy and refused to open—no matter how hard he tried.
Where was he? Perhaps they were with the pirates and he had fallen off the ship?
The memories came flooding back…He remembered Mycroft screaming…the Doctor… Time…Jack carrying him and assuring him that everything was going to be alright…the immortal man comfortingly squeezing his hand when the matron had to give him a shot…a shrill beep of the monitor…a sharp pain in his arm, jaw, and chest…the matron screaming for help…
Sherlock's eyes fluttered open.
The Doctor, Mycroft, River, and Jack were all standing over him. Fog seemed to linger at the edges of the world. It seemed that his entire body had fallen asleep, for it kept tingling.
"Are you alright?" Mycroft asked as the Doctor teasingly stuck out his tongue.
Sherlock wanted to say something along the lines of, "Yes, I'm fine."
Instead, he merely gave a slurred grunt.
River smirked and asked, "Can you repeat that?"
Sherlock flushed and River's smirk turned into a gentle smile. A matron hurried over and pressed several buttons on a nearby monitor. The fog immediately vanished and his body stopped tingling. The matron smiled and asked, "Better?"
"Better," Sherlock admitted.
He tried to sit up but was immediately knocked back as Mycroft tightly hugged him.
"Mycroft," Sherlock muttered, embarrassed, "Doctor, make him stop."
The Doctor grinned and cried, "Nope! You're in the hospital! We're allowed to hug you for as long as we want!"
And they did. The four took turns pulling him into tight hugs. Sherlock stopped fighting and flushed with happiness. He then glared at his brother and snapped, "Where were you?"
"Don't look at me," Mycroft immediately cried, "The Doctor accidentally set the Tardis to five hours instead of five minutes!"
The Doctor looked crestfallen as he sincerely apologized.
"It's alright," Sherlock muttered, "I just wish that the two of you could have been here."
He frowned as several more memories resurfaced. He blinked before glancing up at Jack and asking, "Did you punch a matron?"
"Maybe," Jack slowly said, "He tried to pull me away from you."
Sherlock chuckled before asking, "So, when can we go back to the Tardis?"
The others immediately hushed. Sherlock suddenly felt a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. He had felt it several other times; usually when something bad was about to happen.
"What?" Sherlock whispered, "What is it?"
The Doctor hesitated and glanced at Mycroft. Sherlock suddenly realized that his brother's eyes were red and puffy. His ears were also bright red. Something was wrong.
Something was very wrong.
"Actually, Sherlock," Mycroft softly said, "It's time for us to go home."
"What?" Sherlock yelped. His entire face felt hot and prickly. The room was suddenly much to small. No…they couldn't go home…the Tardis was their home…they couldn't leave…why would Mycroft even want to leave? This was a prank. This was a horrible prank. The Doctor would gently reprimand Mycroft and assure Sherlock that of course he wasn't going back. He couldn't go back. He needed to stay with the Doctor. He needed the Doctor…Why would his brother ever take him away from that? It had to be a prank. But nobody was laughing.
"No…no!" Sherlock cried, "We can't leave!"
"It's going to be alright, Sherlock," the Doctor quietly promised.
Sherlock's eyes stung. His entire face was on fire. His breathing had become irregular; to the point of hyperventilation. He wanted to run. He wanted to scream.
"Come on," Mycroft coaxingly said, going to hug his brother, "Let's go home…"
"NO!" Sherlock shrieked, pulling away from him, "I don't want to go with you! I want to go with the Doctor!"
Mycroft reeled back, as though he had been slapped. Sherlock didn't care. His brother was a monster. How could he do this? It was wrong.
"Wrong," Sherlock muttered, clutching his curls, "Wrong, wrong, wrong…"
"Sherlock," the Doctor said, bending down and putting his hands on the shaking boy's shoulders, "Look at me, Sherlock."
Sparkling eyes found old and wise ones. The Doctor gave him a kind and gentle smile as he said, "It's time for you to go home."
Sherlock blinked back large tears. His throat felt like sandpaper as he croaked, "Okay."
An oblivious matron came back in and said, "Alright, dear. You can go."
"Do we really have to?" Sherlock pressed—one last plea.
"Do they?" River burst out.
Sherlock had almost forgotten that she and Jack were there.
The Doctor sadly nodded and Sherlock's face crumpled. The Time Lord scooped him up and tightly held him. Sherlock buried his face in the Doctor's shoulder and whispered, "But I don't want to go! I don't want to go, Doctor."
"I know," the Doctor whispered, "I know, Sherlock."
Unbeknownst to Sherlock, Mycroft was once again near tears—simply seeing his brother cry was enough. Jack reached over and put a hand on his shoulder.
"Jack," Mycroft croaked, "I'm sorry…for what I said earlier."
"It's alright, Mycroft," Jack said, reassuringly, "To be perfectly honest, the answer to your question is yes. Sometimes I do regret it. Some days are worse than others. But it's worth it, in the end. It's always worth it."
He gave Mycroft a comforting smile before pulling him into a tight hug.
He then straightened up and turned to Sherlock, who had recomposed himself for the time being. The Doctor was still holding him and comfortingly rubbing his back.
"Do you want us to come with you?" Jack quietly asked.
The Doctor shook his head and murmured, "You still need to help the Children of Time."
The Time Lord then turned to his wife and whispered, "River, would you mind putting up a few perception filters? Preferably on Mr. Holmes and the school?"
"As if nothing happened?" River softly asked.
The Doctor swallowed and repeated, "As if nothing happened…"
Sherlock swallowed and hopped down from the Doctor's arms. It was Jack's turn to pull him into a hug as the immortal man teased, "You're not going to forget me, are you?"
"Of course not," Sherlock cried, shocked at the thought. He wiped his eyes and miserably asked, "Please don't forget us?"
"Forget you?" Jack yelped, "Forget you! You're Sherlock Holmes. Nobody is going to be able to forget you."
"No matter how hard they try," River teased, coming over.
Sherlock managed to laugh and whispered, "I'm really going to miss you, River."
"I'm going to miss you too, Sherlock," River said, ruffling his curls, "Do me a favor and never stop trying to impress people."
"Don't give him any ideas," Mycroft weakly chuckled, "Goodbye, River."
"It's not goodbye, Mycroft," River said, mysteriously, "Then again, spoilers."
She pulled the eldest Holmes brother into a hug and kissed the top of Sherlock's head.
The Doctor then put his arm around either brother. The three solemnly walked down the corridor, towards the blue box. Upon entering, they realized that a pile of things was sitting on the console. The boys recognized the wooden sword, Sherlock's stuffed bear, a few clothes, their bowties, and several other items that they had gotten on their adventures. The Tardis had somehow collected them. They didn't know how but they appreciated it. They weren't sure if they could hold themselves together if they had been forced to pack their own things.
The Doctor sadly closed the door and pulled the lever.
He managed to smile and exclaim, "Let's just hope that you don't forget me."
"Of course we won't!" Sherlock cried, appalled at the thought, "You're my hero."
"Don't make people into heroes, Sherlock," the Doctor remarked, with a sad smile.
"But you're not people!"
The Doctor laughed and gently said, "Still...heroes don't exist. And even if they did, I… well…I wouldn't be one of them."
"But you are a hero!" Sherlock insisted with a stomp of his foot, "You are!"
The Doctor was quiet for a moment. Finally, with a calm thoughtfulness to his voice, he replied, "But I'm not your hero."
He glanced over at Mycroft who suddenly felt a lump swell in his throat.
Sherlock swallowed and miserably asked, "Then what are you?"
The Doctor smiled and gently replied, "I'm the funny man with the bowtie."
He then took a deep breath and passionately said, "Boys, I just…I just wanted to let you know how proud I am of you both…and how much I'm going to miss you…and how much I love you."
He didn't say anything else and instead pulled them into one last tight hug.
The three eventually climbed onto the top of the blue box. The Doctor wrapped his arms around their shoulders and tightly held them. The Doctor and the Holmes brothers. Staring at the stars for one last time. He held them for ages, until they had both fallen asleep.
And so once again, the Doctor found himself landing in the Holmes household. He carefully carried Mycroft into the mundane bedroom and actually tucked him in.
"It's okay," the Doctor murmured, resting his forehead against Mycroft's, "I understand, Mycroft. I understand. You are the bravest boy that I know. You…are…brilliant. Please don't forget that. Please don't. It's crucial. And don't you let Sherlock forget how brilliant he is."
He then returned to the Tardis and carried Sherlock into the nursery. He tucked the youngest Holmes brother in and affectionately ruffled his curls.
"You are brilliant, Sherlock," the Doctor whispered, "I cannot stress that enough…you and your brother are absolutely brilliant."
The Doctor carefully placed the wooden sword and stuffed bear onto the bed as he gently whispered, "Don't think too poorly of Mycroft. He's just trying to look after you. He's always going to look after you. And so am I."
Author's Note: Well…that…was…depressing. There are two more chapters to this story—it looks like we are going to hit forty chapters after all! Anyway, I just want to take this moment to thank every single reader who has made it this far in the story. Yesterday morning, Until The End Of Time reached 100 reviews—my first fanfiction to do so. And it means so much—more than you can ever imagine. So thank you.