Sherlock story
Deleted Memories, Chapter 116
Warning: post Reichenbach spoilers. Hope you enjoy
*As always thanks for reading, a special thanks to all of you who take the time to review, comment, and favorite.
Snog is to kiss enthusiastically.
Uni short for University.
Love to all.
"No mind, however loving, could bear to see plainly
into all the recesses of another mind." ~Arnold
Bennett
Present Day
Mycroft sat sipping on his Brandy by the fireplace.
He had put down his glass after taking only a few sips.
He and Sherlock were alike in that regard; they only sipped at alcohol and did not drink large amounts at one time. Their reasons were similar reasons. Both Holmes did not want to cloud their most treasured possession, their minds.
He frowned as he stared at the crystal glass in his hands. "Only the finest," he whispered to himself with a raised eyebrow and a sigh.
One way or another, the situation at hand would be concluded soon, Mycroft decided.
Several bank accounts of the late Moriarty have already been seized. Twelve more were in the process of being seized but that would take time.
Financially, it was billions in total.
This would cripple Ayyad since he was currently in control of Moriarty's kingdom. The late Moriarty, was if nothing else, not in need of money.
The fireplace light danced reflecting on the crystal glass. Mycroft stared at the fire but did not see its beauty. He was lost in his mind and thoughts.
He went about organizing data, coming up with possible solutions, and making plans on how to manipulate events.
This was his gift, his talent.
He had just spoken with Sherlock.
He knew that for Sherlock, Sherlock had been more than cooperative the last five days. He would have to let Sherlock leave the flat eventually. He had kept him confined a day longer than necessary. He smiled at the thought of what poor John must have had to endure.
Sherlock was never good at confinement of any kind.
The lower level soldier of Ayyad's that Thomas had captured, had not provided any useful information and quite frankly was an idiot.
Mycroft was certain he had told all the information that he knew.
Mycroft had asked the soldier personally.
Mycroft remembered a particular day during Sherlock's childhood. Sherlock's arm was in a sling and he was on bed rest for three days after it was accidentally dislocated at the joint. He also had a suspected head concussion.
It had taken all of Mycroft's patience to distract Sherlock, who after day two decided he was bored.
Sherlock had always been a fast healer. Unfortunately, Mycroft found that fact out personally.
Mycroft thought back and remembered a few bedside visits on holiday from Uni where he would find Sherlock with another mysterious injury.
Sherlock would never say who was responsible for his injuries. At first Mycroft thought, it was his schoolmates. They had always been jealous of Sherlock's superior mind and ability to do well without effort. The deductions and lack of social graces did not help to stir the pot of warm feeling among his schoolmates; Mycroft, after a while came to another conclusion.
It seemed that his absence as the diplomat in the family was to Sherlock, a detriment.
Although he was accepted at Oxford at sixteen, Mycroft had delayed going for almost a year.
Father would no longer tolerate a delay so Mycroft left Sherlock for the first time.
The day Mycroft first left for Uni, Sherlock had broken his own rule and pat Mycroft on the shoulder stiffly, and then shook his hand. However, instead of letting go, Sherlock embraced Mycroft briefly, looked him in the eyes, and then walked away.
Mycroft had been just seventeen and Sherlock had only been ten.
Although it was never said, Mycroft believed that Sherlock never forgave him for leaving that day. Mycroft never forgave himself.
A part of him had known that Sherlock needed him but father had both of their futures planned. Father would not tolerate Sherlock's wish to become a scientist. A life in government service was his planned future for both Holmes boys.
Mycroft obediently followed, Sherlock rebelled.
Mycroft smiled at the memory and the truth that Sherlock always rebelled.
Speaking of rebelling, Mycroft thought, he had to release Sherlock tomorrow or Sherlock would simply disappear and move around on this own. Security detail or no security detail if Sherlock wanted to disappear he would.
His little brother was particularly gifted when it came to disappearing.
Sherlock would be allowed to leave, but he would of course have him followed.
Mycroft thought of the second problem.
This was that Sherlock needed to speak to someone about his recent distasteful experiences.
His brother had been through much trauma of late. A lesser man would have broken under its weight, but not his little brother.
He had no doubt that John had somehow convinced him to open up. Mycroft marveled at how John seemed to be able to get Sherlock, to do things willingly, that not even he could get him to do with all the cajoling or hounding in the world.
Mycroft had to admit that he needed to know that his brother was ok, and although John was good for Sherlock, he would not betray Sherlock's confidence.
He considered the fact that he could ask Sherlock directly, but that might involve… feelings and talking about … feelings.
Mycroft almost shuddered at the thought.
Mycroft's mind quickly calculated three solutions to that problem and the possible outcomes of each solution if chosen.
He then decided on the one with the statistical likelihood of succeeding in his favor not Sherlock's.
Mycroft smiled.
He let go of the glass and picked up his phone.
The line rang twice before his brother's familiar voice picked it up.
"Mycroft up late, thinking are you." Sherlock's voice traveled though the phone line.
"Dear brother, How would you like to be the sole possessor of the one and only remaining video tape of your… um… experiment at Cambridge?" Mycroft could not help his smile.
There was a brief silence before Sherlock answered.
"I'm listening…"