Author's Note: Thank you so much for the overwhelming reviews. Don't worry, this chapter isn't going to be as heart-wrenching. Which is good; I will fully admit that the last few chapters were extremely upsetting to write. I literally had to walk out of the room a few times. Not that there won't be sad moments in this chapter. But I've tried to add in a few lighter moments as well. And yes, this chapter is extremely long. Hey, I have a lot of years to cover!

Chapter Thirty-Nine

The Doctor calmly shut the door of the Tardis and hit a button. He closed his eyes as the box rumbled around him. The Tardis clanked and growled, resisting.

"Go," the Doctor whispered, "It's okay…go."

The Tardis seemed to sigh before reluctantly complying. The Doctor took a deep breath before letting out a retched scream as pain spread through his entire body. He had been holding it in for quite a while now; the pain that came with his failed-attempt to heal Sherlock. He had faced a similar, though less harmful, pain when he had healed Mycroft in the museum. And brief flashes of the pain when he had healed the boys' small wounds. But he had been able to let that pain go. This time, he had been forced to wait. Not intentionally. But Mycroft had needed him and Sherlock had needed him and the Doctor had resisted his own pain to help the boys through theirs…Of course, that had almost been for nothing...Sherlock…Mycroft…gone…safe but gone…the Doctor's screams echoed through the console room as he collapsed to his knees. Tears streamed down his face as he writhed in pain.

"Sweetie!"

"Doctor!"

River and Jack both screamed at the sight of the wounded Time Lord. They had both used their vortex manipulators to appear, mere seconds apart. After all, they had both independently realized that the Doctor needed them. They raced over and knelt next to him, their faces shining with concern. The Doctor gasped as the golden light swirled around him.

"Is he dying?" Jack gasped.

"He can't be," River nervously replied, "I've already seen it…"

Jack did a double-take and whispered, "What?"

River gave him a miserable look and Jack softly said, "I'm sorry."

"Forget about me!" River cried, "Focus on the Doctor!"

The Doctor wasn't dying…but there was pain. There was so much pain. And even after the light subsided and his injuries were healed, the Doctor still felt an aching pain.

"Oh Sweetie," River whispered as Jack put a comforting hand on his shoulder, "They love you. Just remember that…They love you…"

"I know," the Doctor croaked, "I love them too…"

"They're safe," Jack firmly said, "They're going to be alright."

"You don't know that," the Doctor sadly murmured.

"Doctor," Jack chuckled, "They're Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes!"

The Doctor wiped his eyes and awkwardly mumbled, "I don't suppose that you two would want to…stay…for a while?"

"We're not going anywhere," River gently assured him.

Jack went over and pulled down several screens. He fiddled with the buttons for a moment and suddenly they could see several different rooms.

"Is that…their house?" River gasped, coming over.

The Doctor also walked over, looking slightly impressed.

"I told you that I put Torchwood surveillance in," Jack explained, "I understand if you want me to remove it, Doctor, but…"

"No," the Doctor hastily said, "Keep it. It's…good…"

River frowned and said, "Sweetie, don't torture yourself over this."

"I won't," the Doctor assured her, "I won't…I just…want to look after them."

"Okay," River suspiciously muttered, "So…where are you going to start?"

The Doctor thought about it for a moment before saying, "The very beginning."

() () ()

Mr. Holmes was once again in his study, growling as he tried to sort through a stack of papers and bills. He didn't even notice the Time Lord creep up the stairs. Nor did the indolent father hear the shrill cries of an infant. The Doctor crept into the nursery and smiled as the infant restlessly squirmed in his cot. Mrs. Holmes had taken Mycroft to the movies, leaving her husband to babysit Sherlock. The Doctor beamed as he picked the seven-month old and tenderly whispered, "Hello, Sherlock. I'm the Doctor. There, there…don't cry."

His curls were already coming in and the Doctor habitually ruffled them. The infant giggled, blinking up at him with an intense curiosity. The Doctor sniffed and suddenly cried, "Blimey! No wonder you were so upset. Let's take care of that, shall we?"

He gently carried Sherlock to the changing table and grabbed a nappy. He hesitated and muttered, "Right…how do I do this again?"

"Oh, move over," River gently snapped, appearing behind him.

The Doctor beamed as she helped him change Sherlock's nappy.

"There you go," the Doctor brightly said.

He held Sherlock for a moment longer before placing him back into the cot.

"Sweet dreams, Sherlock…"

() () ()

Mycroft sniffed as he sat on the steps of his school. He wanted to go home. His mother had taken Sherlock to the doctor's office for his first checkup. Their father was supposed to pick Mycroft up. But it had been an hour…Mycroft shivered. It was beginning to snow. He briefly wondered if he should begin walking. But he was only seven and it didn't seem safe…

"Mycroft?"

Mycroft jumped as a man approached him.

"W…who are you?" Mycroft nervously asked.

"My name's Jack," the man kindly said, "Would you like me to take you home?"

Mycroft shook his head and mumbled, "I'm not allowed to accept rides from strangers."

Jack grinned and said, "Ah. I understand."

"Besides," Mycroft quickly said, "Father should be coming in just a few minutes."

Jack frowned and quietly pointed out, "School let out an hour ago."

"He must be busy," Mycroft said in a tiny voice, "He's always busy."

Jack looked pained but managed to gently ask, "Are you sure that you don't want a ride?"

"No thank you," Mycroft politely said.

"Alright," Jack bracingly replied, "I'll tell you what—why don't I sit with you until he comes? I don't want you to be out here on your own."

Mycroft hesitated and said, "Well…I suppose that would be okay."

Jack reached into his pocket and pulled out a jigsaw puzzle.

"Where did that come from?" Mycroft curiously asked.

"Oh…err…my pockets are bigger on the inside," Jack cheerfully explained, "I picked it up from a friend…"

He then sighed and took off his coat, putting it around the shivering boy. Mycroft thanked him and the two happily worked on the puzzle.

After a quarter of an hour, a black car suddenly screeched to a stop.

"Come along, Mycroft," Mr. Holmes barked, "We don't have all day."

"Thanks for waiting with me, Jack," Mycroft politely said, handing over the coat.

"Anytime, Mycroft," Jack quietly promised, "Anytime."

() () ()

The Doctor, River, and Jack continued to occasionally visit certain parts of the Holmes brothers' past. Not enough for the brothers to remember but certainly enough to make a subtle difference. The Doctor go to the library and help Mycroft with his homework. River would be a substitute lunch monitor one day to ensure that no bullies would bother Sherlock when the poor boy was simply trying to eat. Jack would unexpectedly pop up and make sure that Mycroft bought the proper valentine for the girl on the playground, even though the eleven-year old would adamantly deny that he had a crush on her. The Doctor would place delicious snacks on the table for when the brothers got home. Jack would make sure to send huge baskets to the hospital for Mrs. Holmes. River would be the one to enter the library and softly tell the brothers that they needed to go to the hospital because something bad had happened. The Doctor would ensure that the Tardis prepared enough meals to prevent Mycroft from ever eating a grilled cheese sandwich. The three would make sure that the boys had enough birthday and Christmas presents to last them a lifetime. Sherlock and Mycroft had known River, Jack, and the Doctor all their lives; they just didn't realize it.

() () ()

The night after the boys left found the Doctor creeping into the house. He briefly marveled the fact that a proper man like Mr. Holmes wouldn't bother to add an alarm. After all, the amount of times that they had broken into the Holmes household was getting out of hand.

The Doctor crept up the stairs, first going to Mycroft's room. The boy was sound asleep and the Doctor breathed a sigh of relief before ruffling his hair and saying goodnight. He then crept into the nursery and tucked in Sherlock. The Doctor would come back the next night and the night after that. In fact, the Doctor would continue to do this for several years. He was always careful as to not disturb them and get caught. Sometimes, he would tell them stories. Sometimes, he would softly sing them a song. And sometimes, he would simply remind them that they were brilliant before returning to the Tardis. The boys never knew that he did this. It was alright, the Doctor solemnly decided. He had no place being there anyway.

() () ()

"Sweetie," River gently said, "Come to bed. Please?"

The Doctor didn't answer and instead stared at the monitor. Mycroft was sitting up in his bed, his knees drawn to his chest. He was sadly muttering, "It for the best. It's…it's for the best."

He buried his face in his hands and softly murmured, "Doctor…I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, Mycroft," the Doctor gently said, though the three knew that the microphone was only one-way.

They all jumped as somebody knocked on the door of Mycroft's bedroom.

"Doctor?" Mycroft hopefully called.

"No," Sherlock mumbled, shuffling in, "It's just me."

"Sherlock," Mycroft weakly said, "What are you doing up?"

"I couldn't sleep," Sherlock glumly explained, "I miss looking at the stars."

The Doctor sadly sighed and Mycroft quietly said, "Listen, Sherlock…you can't spend your entire childhood growing up in a blue police box."

Sherlock looked incredulous, as if that was the perfect way to spend his childhood.

"I just want you have an ordinary life," Mycroft pressed.

"But I don't want to be ordinary!" Sherlock burst out.

Mycroft blinked, shocked by his brother's tone.

"I don't want to be ordinary," Sherlock firmly said, "That's what everyone expects me to be and that's boring. I want to be extraordinary."

The Doctor closed his eyes and muttered, "You are, Sherlock…you are extraordinary."

"You are, Sherlock," Mycroft softly said, "You are extraordinary. You're brilliant!"

The Doctor hung his head, though he smiled at Mycroft's reply.

Sherlock frowned and muttered, "I want to go back."

The Doctor's head snapped up and he whispered, "No…"

"Sherlock," Jack sighed, "No, don't do this."

River merely swallowed and watched as Sherlock pulled the vortex manipulator from his pocket. Sure enough, Mycroft's reaction was less than pleasant.

"What?" Mycroft cried, "You…you can't go back!"

"But I'm feeling better," Sherlock pressed, "Honest!"

"Sherlock," Mycroft firmly said, "You almost died."

"So?"

"I'm not letting you go back there."

The Doctor, River, and Jack could see the pain on Mycroft's face. They knew that his heart must have been ripping at the thought of Sherlock being put back in danger. It was hard; it was so hard…but they knew that Sherlock couldn't come back. For both brothers' sakes.

"I don't have to listen to you," Sherlock angrily burst out, "I'm going to live with the Doctor and you can't stop me!"

He hit the button but nothing happened.

"But I can," the Doctor sadly murmured.

"You deactivated it," Jack clarified, sighing with relief.

Sherlock stared at the vortex manipulator, crestfallen.

"Sherlock," Mycroft swallowed, "You ca…can't go back."

"Fine," Sherlock wildly cried, "Fine! Then I'll make him come and get me!"

"How are you going to do that?" Mycroft challenged, slightly annoyed that his brother was being so stubborn.

"I'll…I'll run out into the street again," Sherlock hysterically explained, "He'll have to save me!"

"Sherlock!" Mycroft gasped, horrified.

The Doctor, River, and Jack also gasped.

"No," the Doctor cried, alarmed, "No…Sherlock…you can't do that…"

"The worst part is," River softly said, "He's right…"

"You would never let anything like that happen," Jack murmured.

"But he can't…" the Doctor gasped, "He can't be that reckless."

The thought of Sherlock intentionally putting himself in harm's way was still terrifying.

They could see the scared look on Mycroft's face as he whispered, "Sherlock…"

"This is your fault!" Sherlock muttered.

"What?" Mycroft weakly cried, "It's…it's not my fault."

He tried to reach towards Sherlock but his brother spun around and stomped away.

They held their breaths before realizing that he was simply stomping into the nursery.

"No…" Mycroft groaned, "No, no, no!"

He buried his face in his hands, not expecting his brother to be so hostile.

"What did you expect, Mycroft?" Jack angrily muttered, "You took your brother away from the only place where he was ever loved."

River pointedly nudged him.

Mycroft suddenly stood up and sighed, looking troubled.

"What's he doing?" River asked.

"He has an idea," the Doctor explained.

"But why does he look so upset?"

"Because it's a horrible idea."

Jack and River exchanged glances, the former asking, "What's he thinking?"

"No," the Doctor whispered, "No, no…Mycroft…don't…please…"

Too late.

The three gravely watched as Mycroft entered the nursery and said, "Sherlock…did it occur to you why the vortex manipulator wasn't working?"

"Mycroft, don't you dare!" River snapped.

Mycroft took a deep breath and softly said, "I'm sorry, Sherlock…I didn't want to tell you this but…the Doctor doesn't want us to be his companions anymore."

Jack cried out, River clenched her fists, and the Doctor hung his head.

"W…what?" Sherlock asked, looking deflated.

"I want to go back too," Mycroft sincerely said before continuing to lie, "But we can't because…because the Doctor doesn't want us to. After you got hurt, he said that he can't afford anymore distractions."

"Mycroft, NO!" Jack cried, "No…no!"

"He needed to get back to the universe," Mycroft gently fibbed, "And we were just distracting him. Parents Day, Christmas, birthdays…they're all well and good but they kept taking him from what he was really supposed to do…he needs to protect the universe."

"B…but…but…" Sherlock tried to protest. He glanced at his vortex manipulator before abruptly throwing it against the wall.

"Hey, hey!" Mycroft quickly said, realizing that he might have gone too far, "There's no need to do that. You can't be mad at the Doctor. Please, please…don't be mad at him. But don't be mad at me either. Because this isn't my fault."

"Yes, it is," Jack corrected.

"It kind of is," River agreed.

"We need to let the Doctor be," Mycroft quietly said, "That chapter of our story is over and we need to move on. We need to stick together. The both of us. Together. Alright?"

And even though Sherlock loved the Doctor, he also loved his brother. And he trusted his brother. And it was perhaps the most selfless act of his life as he whispered, "Alright…"

Mycroft pulled his brother into a relieved hug.

Sherlock squirmed but returned the hug. Mycroft then took the time to tuck him in.

"How could he do that?" River growled, "How could he lie like that?"

Jack was too angry to speak. The Doctor was also speechless but it was out of pain rather than anger. He expectantly stared at the screen as Mycroft entered his own bedroom.

Mycroft gently closed his door and made it to his bed before breaking down and silently crying. He buried his face in his hands, guilty and ashamed for lying.

"I'm sorry," Mycroft croaked, "I'm so sorry, Doctor. I'm sorry…"

"It's okay," the Doctor whispered—though of course Mycroft couldn't hear him, "It's okay, Mycroft. I forgive you."

"Doctor!" River cried, stunned, "How can you forgive him after—?"

"Look at him, River," the Doctor miserably said, "He didn't want to lie. He didn't want to leave. He just wants to protect his brother. He needs to protect his brother…and we need to protect Mycroft. This doesn't change anything. If anything, it prevents Sherlock from doing something reckless or from spending his life waiting for me to come back."

"Yeah," River sighed, "We don't need a boy who waited."

"Doctor," Jack quietly spoke up, "He lied to Sherlock. This isn't going to end well."

And Jack was right. The three continued to protect the brothers. They eventually went back to school; Sherlock was more reluctant to do so. The youngest Holmes brother still got into trouble but they would subtly get him out of it. Nevertheless, both brothers were at the top of their classes. And they still remained close to one another, though Sherlock grew admittedly more introverted and Mycroft focused more on his reputation than stories about blue police boxes. And one hot day in June, Mycroft proudly walked the stage to receive his diploma. When he and Sherlock returned home—Mr. Holmes had to go back to work—they were both elated to see a dark blue envelope sitting on Mycroft's bed. Upon opening it, Mycroft realized that it was a full scholarship to the University of Cambridge. He anxiously moved away and Sherlock moved into the bedroom. It was there that the youngest Holmes brother found several books.

It was Mycroft's journals on their adventures with the Doctor. It took him several months to read. When he finally finished, he ended up throwing the book across the room. The spine cracked and several pages fluttered out but Sherlock didn't care.

"Oh no," River cried, glancing up from her tea to stare at the monitor, "Is he alright?"

The Doctor also glanced up and murmured, "No."

And though Sherlock was only thirteen, he still managed to brave the hour and a half train-ride from London to Cambridge. It only took several minutes for him to successfully deduce where Mycroft's dormitory was. His brother had chosen to take a single dorm. Good, thought Sherlock—he didn't want an idiotic roommate to butt their nose into this.

Sherlock crossly marched down the corridor and opened the door, barging right in.

Mycroft looked up, pleasantly surprised. Sherlock frowned as his older brother naively exclaimed, "Sherlock! What are you doing here?"

Sherlock heatedly slammed the door. The smile slipped away from Mycroft's face and he quietly asked, "What? What is it?"

"I read it," Sherlock hissed.

Mycroft was thoroughly confused as he asked, "Read what?"

"The journals!"

"What are you talking about?" Mycroft spluttered, "Sherlock, what's wrong?"

"I READ THE JOURNALS, MYCROFT!" Sherlock bellowed, "THE JOURNALS ABOUT OUR ADVENTURES WITH THE DOCTOR! I READ IT!"

Mycroft's eyes widened as his brother's tone, but he still didn't understand, "Alright? I don't…did you not like it…?"

"It was great," Sherlock said through gritted teeth, "Brilliant. Right up until the ending."

Mycroft suddenly understood. He paled as he did so.

"You lied," Sherlock softly accused, "You lied to me! You've been lying for years!"

Mycroft looked flustered for a moment before stammering, "Sh…Sherlock…listen…we need to talk about this…"

"YOU LIED!" Sherlock screamed.

Mycroft closed his eyes. His brother really did have a problem with the volume of his voice whenever he was upset. And Sherlock was upset. He was shaking with anger as he fiercely continued to scream, "YOU TOLD ME THAT HE DIDN'T WANT US TO BE HIS COMPANIONS! AND THAT'S WHY WE HAD TO LEAVE! BUT IT WAS YOUR FAULT! YOUR FAULT! YOU WERE THE REASON THAT WE LEFT, MYCROFT! YOU WANTED TO LEAVE! AND THEN YOU LIED TO ME ABOUT IT! IT'S YOUR FAULT!"

The windows shook from the volume of his voice. Mycroft nervously swallowed and his brother continued, "WELL? WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY?"

"You were eight!" Mycroft burst out, his eyes flying open, "You were eight and you nearly died! You probably don't remember—"

"I REMEMBER SAYING GOODBYE TO THE DOCTOR!" Sherlock shouted, "I'LL NEVER FORGET THAT! I'LL NEVER FORGET HOW HURT HE LOOKED AND HOW I WAS BAWLING LIKE A BLOODY TOT! BECAUSE I DIDN'T WANT TO LEAVE!"

He broke off, tears streaming down his face.

"Well if you remember it so vividly," Mycroft snapped, "Maybe you can remember that I was also crying! I didn't want to leave! But I…I…I couldn't…"

"COULDN'T WHAT?"

"I COULDN'T WATCH YOU DIE!" Mycroft screamed, finally matching his brother's volume for once in his life, "YOU WERE NEARLY KILLED, SHERLOCK! I COULDN'T GO THROUGH THAT AGAIN! DO YOU KNOW REALIZE HOW UPSET I WAS? I KNEW THAT I NEEDED TO KEEP YOU SAFE! I NEEDED TO MAKE SURE THAT NOTHING WOULD HAPPEN TO YOU! YOU'RE MY BROTHER! I NEEDED TO PROTECT YOU! I PROMISED MUM THAT I WOULD PROTECT YOU! I PROMISED THE DOCTOR THAT I WOULD PROTECT YOU! AND I WASN'T ABOUT TO BREAK MY PROMISE TO EITHER ONE OF THEM! THEY BOTH MEAN TOO MUCH FOR ME TO DO THAT! SO YES! I LEFT! AND I LIED TO YOU BECAUSE I DIDN'T WANT YOU TO TRY AND GO BACK TO THE DOCTOR! I KNEW THAT YOU DIDN'T WANT TO LEAVE! NEITHER DID I! BUT I HAD TO! AND GUESS WHAT? THE DOCTOR UNDERSTOOD! HE WAS HURT AND UPSET BUT HE UNDERSTOOD! HE KNEW THAT YOU NEEDED TO BE SAFE! HE KNEW WHY I WAS LEAVING! AND DO YOU KNOW WHAT HE DID? HE HELD ME UNTIL I STOPPED CRYING AND TOLD ME THAT I WAS BRILLIANT! AND OF COURSE YOU DON'T REMEMBER THAT PART! BECAUSE YOU WERE ASLEEP DURING THE HARDEST MOMENT OF MY LIFE AND THEREFORE I DON'T REALLY THINK THAT YOU'RE ALLOWED TO JUDGE ME FOR IT!"

By the time Mycroft calmed down, he too was shaking with anger. It was the first time that he had ever really screamed at Sherlock. Thirteen years of being calm and collected. The anger was immediately washed away by guilt. He was, after all, screaming at a thirteen-year old.

But Sherlock Holmes wasn't just any thirteen-year old.

Sherlock Holmes was brilliant.

He would always be brilliant.

He understood what Mycroft was saying. He didn't flinch when Mycroft broke down and began screaming at him. He locked his jaw and stood his ground. He understood. Because he was brilliant. But even brilliant people can make mistakes.

And even though part of him realized where Mycroft was coming from, there was a bigger part that was fueling on hatred and fury.

And this is the reason why we can't be angry at Sherlock when he hisses that he hates his brother. Nor can we be angry at him when he feels a small amount of joy as he watches the look of horror that spreads across Mycroft's face. We can't be angry when he turns on his heel and stomps away. And just as we can't be angry at Sherlock, we can't be angry at Mycroft. We can't be angry at him for leaving the Doctor. We can't be angry at him for lying to Sherlock. We can't be angry at him for breaking down and finally shouting at Sherlock.

We can't be angry at the Holmes brothers.

Because the Doctor isn't.

As the Doctor sadly watched the fight—of course Mycroft's room had come with Torchwood surveillance, free of charge—he felt his two hearts break.

() () ()

Mycroft swallowed as the train slowed to a halt. He grabbed his briefcase and calmly stepped out. Cardiff. Mycroft wrinkled his nose. The city didn't look that different. At least there weren't any metallic blimps lingering over it.

Mycroft shivered as he walked down towards the street. He stopped a kind passerby and awkwardly asked, "Excuse me? Do you know where the…err…Road Dahl Plass is?"

"Oh," the woman carelessly said, "Torchwood Three? Yeah, it's over there."

"Torchwood?" Mycroft cried, trying to feign innocence, "I don't know what you mean but thank you."

He hurriedly walked away and chuckled to himself, "So much for keeping the secret organization a secret, Jack."

Several minutes and a few mild security checks later, he found himself standing in the disguised tourist information office. He tried to sound confident as he went to the receptionist and asked, "H…hello. I'm here to see your leader…Captain Jack Harkness."

"You can't just come in here and—"

"It's alright," Jack quietly said, coming over, "I was expecting him."

For a moment, Mycroft felt his throat close. He hadn't seen Jack in five years; since that horrid night in the hospital. The immortal man was carefully surveying him and Mycroft suddenly felt self-conscious. He knew that his eyes were still red and swollen. The argument had only been a few hours ago. He swallowed and stammered a weak greeting, "J…Jack."

Jack didn't say anything. Instead, he merely jerked his head and Mycroft lamely followed him into his office. Mycroft appreciatively glanced around, remembering how the immortal man had cracked up upon hearing that Mr. Holmes had been punched.

"Look at you," Jack softly said.

He stood on the opposite side of the office. The tension between the two was certainly thick and Mycroft suddenly wondered if this was a horrible idea. It was. He shouldn't have come here. He shouldn't have faced his past. It was a horrible idea. Just another mistake—

And suddenly Jack was pulling him into a tight hug. The immortal man laughed and exclaimed, "Blimey! Look at you! All grown up! Hello, Captain Jack Harkness!"

He said the last part jokingly and Mycroft finally managed to laugh, hugging him back.

The happy moment was short-lived however, as Mycroft sadly pulled back and whispered, "Jack…I messed up."

"Yeah, I know," Jack lightly said, "Good of you to realize it."

"I'm serious," Mycroft croaked, "I don't know what to do! I don't know…I…"

And suddenly, the severity of his mistakes seemed to hit him. Mycroft Holmes was usually a very confident man. He could usually hold everything in and remain calm. He rarely ever felt helpless. And yet, as he sank onto the floor of Jack's office, that was exactly how he felt. Mycroft felt helpless. He felt horrible. He felt embarrassed, confused, and selfish for feeling such raw emotions but it didn't stop those emotions from coming.

"I'm sorry," Mycroft whispered, when he realized that Jack was looking at him with a mixture of sadness and fear, "I'm sorry, Jack."

"You don't have to apologize to me, Mycroft," Jack whispered.

"Then what should I do?" Mycroft burst out, his eyes stinging, "What should I do, Jack?"

Jack didn't answer and Mycroft continued, "I…I don't know what to do. I was just trying to do the right thing and now…Sherlock hates me…the Doctor hates me and…"

"The Doctor doesn't hate you!" Jack cried, shocked by the thought, "Why would you ever think that? He loves you! You and Sherlock both!"

"But…but I left…" Mycroft stammered.

"Yes, you did," Jack slowly said, "You left the Doctor but that doesn't mean that the Doctor left you."

Mycroft smiled at that before softly saying, "Regardless…Sherlock…"

Jack sighed and agreed, "He's not your biggest fan, right now. But he'll forgive you."

"Really?" Mycroft hopefully asked, "Is there a point in our future…that is…do you know something…?"

"No," Jack admitted, "But he's your brother. He'll forgive you."

"I lied to him."

"And he'll forgive you," Jack promptly said, "I promise."

Mycroft swallowed and murmured, "Thanks, Jack. Blimey, it's good to see you again."

"Likewise," Jack said with a grin.

He crossed to the mini-fridge and poured two glasses of red wine. Mycroft accepted one and took a sip before immediately spitting it out.

Jack cracked up and said, "Blimey, don't tell me that this is your first drink?"

"Just because you throw a stag party every other night," Mycroft teased.

"Every other night?" Jack cried, offended, "Don't insult me, Mycroft."

"Look," Mycroft sighed, "I've been too busy to have a drink."

"Busy, boring, and proper," Jack snickered, "Yeah, that sounds about right."

"Oh shut up," Mycroft laughed, "Fine…"

He took another sip and was able to swallow.

Jack raised his glass and said, "Well, here's to your first drink, Mycroft."

Mycroft raised his glass and admitted, "You know, I know that it's usually a tradition for fathers to be with their son during their first drink—"

"Among other milestones," Jack muttered.

"—but it's an honor to have it with you, Jack," Mycroft finished.

Jack smiled and raised his glass, "The honor's all mine."

() () ()

"Sherlock? Sherlock!"

"This isn't good," River gasped, "This is not good."

It had been three years since Mycroft had raised his glass to the hopeful idea that his brother would one day forgive him. So far, Sherlock hadn't. Instead, he had put up a thick wall between himself and the rest of the world. He rarely left the house, even for school. Mycroft would call at least once a day but Sherlock would ignore him. Mycroft also occasionally visited but Sherlock wouldn't say a word. The Doctor, River, and Jack had spent the last three years sadly trying to help each brother—still in complete secrecy. Other than the single conversation with Jack, neither brother had contacted them. But the three still kept a close eye on them.

Until now. Sherlock and his father had screamed at each other for a good quarter of an hour before Sherlock eventually stormed out of the household. The Doctor, Jack, and River were now anxiously hurrying down the streets, looking for him.

"Where could he have gone?" River groaned.

"It's not that I don't trust him," the Doctor whispered, "It's just…I'm worried."

"We all are," Jack mumbled, "Let's split up."

Jack hurried down an alleyway, aiming to head towards the school. He then stopped as he spotted somebody sitting against one of the walls.

"Sherlock!" Jack shouted, "Sherlock! Oh, God…DOCTOR! RIVER! I FOUND HIM!"

He raced over to the teenager. Sherlock was slumped against the wall, his eyes unfocused. He was shivering and muttering incoherently. The crook of his elbow was bruised. A needle was lying nearby.

"No…" Jack whispered, disbelief, fear, and sadness creeping into his voice, "No, no… oh…no…Damn it…Sherlock, wake up!"

He swallowed his horror and tried to kneel next to Sherlock.

River and the Doctor came racing up the alleyway.

Jack hesitated for a brief moment before leaping up and trying to restrain the Doctor. Too late. The Time Lord caught sight of Sherlock and cried out with shock.

"Listen," Jack grunted, "It's okay! He'll be okay!"

"What's wrong with him?"

Jack flinched at the frantic shout and tried to explain, "Well he's…he's…"

River crouched down and used her Sonic to scan him before crying, "Bloody hell!"

"What? What is it, River?"

River swallowed before admitting, "Traces of C21H23NO5…"

The Doctor stopped, horrified, before whispering, "Heroin?"

"Traces," River sighed, "It looks like it's been corrupted."

River tapped the youngest Holmes brother's cheek and urgently said, "Sherlock? Can you hear me? It's me. It's River and the Doctor and Jack."

"He can't hear you River," Jack miserably explained, "I doubt he even knows where he is right now. We need to take him home. Doctor, can you get the Tardis?"

He glanced at the Time Lord and realized that the Doctor had gone numb. His jaw was slightly dropped and his eyes sparkled with horror.

"Okay," Jack slowly said, "Or we can use our vortex manipulators?"

"I've got him," River curtly said, "You get him."

A moment later, they were standing in the corridor of the Holmes household. River was holding Sherlock. Jack had his elbow linked around the Doctor's. River started towards the nursery but Jack quickly said, "He hasn't been in there for years. He's in the bedroom now."

"Right," River mumbled, "I forgot…"

She gently carried Sherlock into the bedroom and set him on the bed.

The Doctor made a small noise and Jack concernedly asked, "Are you okay?"

He didn't answer and Jack continued, "Look, we have a few vials back at Cardiff that can cancel out anything that he might have ingested."

He did so, disappearing and reappearing within seconds. The Doctor stared at the needle and immediately paled, "I…I…can't."

Jack sadly administered it, softly explaining, "It also has an anesthetic that will knock him out. He's going to go through a pretty bad detox."

The Doctor flinched and Jack repeated, "Doctor, are you okay?"

"No," the Doctor growled.

"Sweetie, listen to me," River quietly said, "This isn't your fault."

Before the Doctor could answer, they heard a shout, "OI! WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE? GET OUT OF HERE!"

The Doctor suddenly spun around and pushed Mr. Holmes against the wall.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Jack cried, shocked, "Doctor!"

He and River both tried to pull him away but the Doctor was stronger.

"You're mad!" Mr. Holmes spluttered, "This is assault! I'm having you arrested for this and mark my words, not even your bloody judge can save you!"

He glared daggers at Jack who was still trying to restrain the Doctor. Jack returned the glare and muttered, "If I was you, mate, I'd worry more about the murder charges."

"What…what murder charges?"

"I dunno," Jack said with a shrug, "He looks a bit angry."

"Sweetie, I'm not going to lie and say that I don't enjoy this," River admitted, "But he's not worth it."

The Doctor took a deep breath and quietly said, "I just want to know one thing…Did you know where your son was?"

"W…what?"

The Doctor furiously repeated, "Did you know where Sherlock was? You had a fight, he stormed out, and what did you do? Returned to your forms? Called your boss and added more time to your timesheet? We found him in an alleyway. With a syringe lying nearby. Did you know where he going?"

"H…he's old enough to…to be…he's independent…"

"HE'S SIXTEEN!"

Mr. Holmes flinched at the Doctor's bellow but the Time Lord wasn't finished, "Children don't ever reach an age where they stop needing you! They might not need you to wipe their eyes or tuck them in but they still need you! And they're always going to need you!"

Mr. Holmes glanced at River and Jack, who had both calmly stepped back, "Hey! What are you doing? Aren't you going to keep restraining him?"

"Noooo," Jack slowly admitted, "Now we're intrigued."

"He's been holding this in for eight years," River quietly pointed out.

"Is he always this violent?"

"No, no," River pleasantly remarked, "Just around you."

"Don't take it too personally," Jack added, "He's bound to get angry at anyone who threatens Sherlock or Mycroft."

The Doctor glanced over his shoulder and gently said, "If I may…?"

"By all means," River said.

The Doctor turned and quietly continued, "I have seen a lot of horrible fathers in my time but you are truly the worst."

"How dare you…?"

"You're a horrible father," the Doctor furiously repeated, "And River's right…I've been waiting to say that for years but I never wanted to upset Sherlock and Mycroft. You don't know the first thing about raising children. You're not supposed to abandon them for your work and reputation. You're supposed to put your time aside to be with them. You're supposed to make them your biggest priority; bigger than the entire universe. You're supposed to watch over them, even if they don't want you to…because you love them. You're supposed to love them…"

He broke off, quite emotional, before muttering, "And you're never supposed to stop loving them. Regardless of how many mistakes they make…because no matter what they do…no matter how old they get…they're still your children."

He finally let go of Mr. Holmes. The man glared at him for a moment before cowardly slipping into the corridor.

"Oh, Sweetie," River gently said.

The Doctor took a deep breath and growled, "That being said, I'm going to kill Sherlock when he wakes up…"

He realized that Jack had disappeared.

River quickly spoke up, "You don't have to."

"Yes, I…"

"No, no," River sweetly said, "Don't worry. Jack's already gone to fetch his murderer."

The Doctor blinked and River added, "We should go."

"But…but Sherlock…"

"…is going to be fine," River assured him, "Physically, that is. I just scanned him. All of the toxins are already out of his system. I hate to say this, Sweetie, but it's out of your hands."

The Doctor blinked again before indignantly saying, "And who, pray tell, is more qualified to murder Sherlock than I am?"

River merely smiled.

On the other side of London, Mycroft yawned as he entered the small bedroom.

"Mycroft…"

The eldest Holmes brother screamed out and Jack quickly said, "Hey, hey. It's me."

"What are you doing here?" Mycroft asked, both pleased and close to hyperventilation.

Jack got right to the point and quietly said, "You know that I would never contact you unless it was an emergency…"

"What?" Mycroft spluttered, still trying to understand how Jack had gotten into his house, "What happened? Is the Doctor alright?"

"He's fine," Jack assured him, "A bit shaken but fine. It's Sherlock…"

Mycroft's blood turned to ice and he whispered, "What happened?"

"Don't freak out," Jack told him, "Please, don't!"

He quietly filled Mycroft in and, sure enough, Mycroft freaked out.

He made it to the other side of London in just a few minutes. He burst into his brother's bedroom and screamed, "SHERLOCK HOLMES!"

Sherlock stirred and Mycroft cried, "What the bloody hell were you thinking?"

"What am I doing here?" Sherlock asked, dazed, "What are you doing here? Get out of my room!"

"Shut up," Mycroft seethed, "I don't want to be here anymore than you do but you are clearly out of control. Heroin? HEROIN?"

"How did you find out?" Sherlock growled.

"Never mind that," Mycroft snapped, "Sherlock Holmes, what were you thinking?"

"I was bored," Sherlock simply said.

"You were bored!" Mycroft shouted, "Do you know how dangerous that stuff is?"

"How do I know that that isn't just another lie?" Sherlock snapped, "You know, brother dear, I don't think that you have any right to yell at me for my mistakes. So why don't you just piss off?"

"Do you know who I am?" Mycroft growled, "I'm your bloody brother and I don't care how angry you are at me. This stops now. Do you understand?"

"You're not the boss of me," Sherlock remarked, "Leave me alone!"

"No," Mycroft quietly said, "I don't care how angry you are at me, Sherlock. I am still going to look after you."

In the Tardis, the Doctor smiled and quietly said, "And we're still going to look after the two of you."

It wasn't easy. As the years went by, the Doctor, River, and Jack desperately tried to help Sherlock through his various addictions. He became more introverted and yet more reckless, wildly willing to race around London and crash crime-scenes. He soon repressed any memories of blue police boxes. Meanwhile, Mycroft used a combination of charm, skill, and his psychic paper to climb to the top of the positions in Buckingham Palace. And he was good! Even Jack had to appreciate the way Mycroft took England under his wing. Though it was still clear that his days of blue police boxes were long behind him.

Sherlock eventually moved into 221B with a lovely landlady who insisted that she wasn't his housekeeper. Jack piled the flat high with cameras and microphones, positioning them right next to Mycroft's. Meanwhile, the Doctor managed to spot a nice young man who had just returned to Afghanistan and was suffering from PTSD.

One day, the Doctor randomly strolled into the office of Michael Stamford.

"Who are you?" Mike asked, looking surprised.

"Oh, not important," the Doctor casually said, "You're friends with John Watson?"

"Yes?"

"I heard he's looking for a roommate," the Doctor cheerfully continued, "And I heard that your friend—a mister Sherlock Holmes—is also looking for one."

"Sherlock Holmes and John Watson?" Mike muttered, "Really?"

"Trust me," the Doctor said with a smile.

And as usual, the Doctor was right. He happily pulled up John's blog and smiled as he read all of the wonderful adventures that the two were having. The three subtly blended in with the crowd as Sherlock sat with a shock blanket around his shoulders, arguing with Lestrade. They flinched as Sherlock refused to talk to John about the solar system, causing a slight miscommunication which caused John to post how spectacularly ignorant he was about the whole thing. There were also a few scary moments—they nearly ran into 221B after seeing it explode. Fortunately, Mycroft got there before they even finished hesitating. Upon realizing who the culprit was, River was ready to blast Moriarty.

"Doctor, we need to do something," River hissed, "He's been pointing that gun at the vest for over a year now!"

"Or at least it feels like a year," Jack added, "Blimey, this is tense."

River clicked her Sonic and the Tardis began to pop popcorn. Jack snorted and grabbed a handful before seeing the reproachful look from the Doctor.

They smiled as Mycroft tried to subtly look after Sherlock. He still remained calm and collected, as though he didn't care that his brother was fighting ruthless criminals. One particular conversation stuck out; a conversation with John in the café."

"What may we deduce about his heart?"

"I don't know," John muttered.

"Neither do I," Mycroft pleasantly said, "But initially he wanted to be a pirate."

His smile froze as he briefly remembered a repressed thought. Sherlock swinging his wooden sword. Him crashing into the wardrobe, causing Mr. Holmes to come in and ultimately decide that Mycroft was too old for the nursery. Sherlock running in front of the car only to be saved by…and then the real pirates…Gus…the ship gliding over the clouds…

A few months later, John and Mycroft had another conversation that was particularly painful for the eldest Holmes brother.

"Too much history between us, John," Mycroft explained, "Old scores. Resentments.

John smirked and asked, "Nicked all his smurfs? Broke his Action Man?

Mycroft merely scowled, too angry to say anything.

As they looked on in the Tardis, Jack casually said, "Took him from the only place where he was ever truly happy."

"Lied to him about it," River added.

"You know," the Doctor muttered, "The usual quarrels between brothers."

() () ()

The Doctor solemnly stared out the window. He could just make out Sherlock's silhouette on the building. His heart sank.

Someone gently tapped his shoulder. River offered him a gentle smile.

The Doctor looked touched as he asked, "What are you doing here?"

"Did you honestly think that we were going to miss this?" Jack asked, coming up to stand on his other side.

The Doctor smiled and River added, "We could still blast the snipers, you know."

"Or we could just blast Moriarty," Jack offered.

"No," the Doctor solemnly said, "This is Sherlock's fight."

"Exactly," River softly said, "Which means that it's our fight."

The Doctor smiled at that but still shook his head.

"Is John going to be okay?" River asked.

In the past year and a half, the three had grown accustomed to helping John as frequently as they did Sherlock and Mycroft.

"He will be," the Doctor slowly said, "Eventually."

"Where's Mycroft?" Jack asked, scanning the street below.

"Buckingham Palace," the Doctor remarked.

Jack and River glanced at one another. A few weeks ago, they had watched in horror as the oldest Holmes brother had let Moriarty go.

"Don't underestimate him," the Doctor sharply continued.

Jack laughed at that and said, "Doctor, there has never been a time where we've underestimated Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes."

"And there never will be," River added.

The three turned their attention back to the rooftop.

River pulled a pair of binoculars from the Doctor's pocket and glanced through them.

She was quiet for a moment before repeating, "Sociopaths don't cry."

"Nor do they fall off rooftops to save their friends," the Doctor pointed out.

"Rule Six," Jack softly said.

"Rules can be broken if necessary," the Doctor reminded him.

"Yeah, I've been meaning to ask," River spoke up, "What's Rule Five?"

The Doctor sighed and explained, "Rule Five was initially going to be Don't Leave. I knew that it was a ridiculous rule—and one that was often broken—so I didn't mention it."

"Don't leave," River repeated, "Was that for the boys or for you?"

The Doctor turned to look at her but couldn't answer. River sadly reached up and adjusted his bowtie and Jack put a hand on his shoulder. The three solemnly turned and watched as Sherlock tipped over the edge and fell.

The Doctor closed his eyes. When he opened them, he saw that River and Jack were expectantly staring at him, both white.

"What?"

"Well," River demanded, "He's alright, right?"

The Doctor scanned his thoughts for a moment and softly said, "A fixed point in time."

"Good on you, Sherlock Holmes," Jack quietly said.

River was silent for a moment before saying, "He's afraid of heights."

"Yeah."

"He must have been scared," River pointed out.

"He must have been brave," Jack corrected.

The Doctor smiled and gently said, "He must have been brilliant."

Author's Note: Alright, I say that it's time to get those brothers back into the Tardis!