Title: Making the Connection
Story Summary: A non-chronological collection of short chapters based on one word prompts, includes (pre-)slash for Johnlock & Mystrade
Chapter Summary: Everyone knows Sherlock Holmes thinks that caring is a disadvantage. But where did he get that from? Prompt: Foolish
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Moffat, Gatiss & SACD.
A/N: As this is the fortieth chapter of this story I thought I'd give you yet another glimpse in my pre-series head canon. The prompt for this chapter came from DarkFoxxx. The quote on which the Einstein reference is based is this: "The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results."
"Go away!" Sherlock shouted at the door. He had returned from uni for the holidays, but his heart was just as broken as the term at uni. As soon as he was done saying his hellos to his mother and their staff he had gone up to his bedroom. He lay on his bed, comforting himself with silent tears.
"Don't be childish, Sherlock." Mycroft said from just outside his locked door. His brother had followed him, doubtlessly sent by their mother.
"I want to be alone." His voice was unsteady as he yelled at the slowly opening door. That damn bastard had picked his lock again!
Mycroft slowly entered the room and closed the door behind him. He spoke in a soft, slightly patronizing voice. "There will be plenty of times in your life when you will be left completely alone. But right now I want to talk to you."
"Go. Away. I mean it." Sherlock hurled a pillow at his older brother as he stepped closer to his bed.
His target caught the soft projectile in mid-flight. "You're hurt." The tone was matter-of-fact.
"Well observed. Now leave me alone." The younger brother huffed and turned his back.
"Stop it." His tone was snide now as he sat down on the edge of the bed. "I know how you feel and I know how you can make it better."
Sherlock snorted sarcastically. "You've got no idea. I lost…"
"I know what you lost and that's exactly my point." Mycroft interrupted him before he could finish. "You lost it because you allowed yourself to love. You've been foolish. Showing sentiment is not a sign of strength, that's just what weak people like to think. It makes you vulnerable and thus powerless, it opens you up to feeling like this for the better part of your life. Love is what ordinary people believe to give meaning to their lives, but we need more, caring only holds us back."
He looked at his brother who was ten years older than him. Mycroft was more experienced, but he had always kept to himself. Obviously his brother's experiences hadn't been good and neither were his. Maybe Mycroft was right. He sat up against the headboard of his bed.
"How many times did you try?", his older brother asked him when he didn't respond.
"Twice now." He wiped the tears away from his cheeks.
Mycroft nodded."That's still acceptable."
Sherlock tilted his head, studying his brother's well controlled face. "Are you thinking of Einstein?"
"Yes and I think you should, too." Mycroft's expression was serious.
They sat opposite each other on Sherlock's bed, looking each other in the eye, talking about matters of the heart. It was the closest they'd been in over a decade, ever since Mycroft had moved out of their home.
"I think you're right." Sherlock conceded. He didn't want to lose his rationality. Over the course of the last few years it had become the thing he liked best about himself.
"I'm glad we agree." Mycroft stood up, straightened his trousers and walked towards the door. "Now wash up and come downstairs, Frieda's made her special marble cake just for you."