AN: I'm so so sorry for not updating sooner. I might have to put writing on hold until about halfway through june. I have exams -_- Hopefully I'll be writing stuff but I just don't seem to have very much time recently.. But I promise I will NOT ABANDON THIS!

PINKY PROMISE;)

Any MCR fans out there? :D

If you're a My Chem fan hopefully you'll like this:)

(also I'm not sure if I like writing as Mycroft, I think I screwed up the first bit -_-)

-Erin

Prompt word from: Myself:D

Yesterday:

'Cause you only live forever in the lights you make

The coffin is plain black with a nailed shut lid. It is just how he would like it.

I reach up to dry a tear that has formed on my cheek. I can't understand how anybody can stand to be near me. I betrayed my own brother and now he's dead.

Nobody understands me, nobody ever did. The person closest to my heart who understood almost everything I felt was Sherlock. But now he's dead and is lying in this box.

I look over to John who isn't even attempting to hide his grief. Each line on his face is a sleepless night, each tear on his cheek is a memory of Sherlock. The ex-army doctor gazes upwards and meets my eyes. For the first time I see an iciness there. It's like looking in the mirror.

John is the only person who knows what I did.

He will never forgive me.

I'm interrupted from my musings by the priest speaking, "We are gathered here today to mourn Sherlock Holmes. His untimely passing should remind each and everyone one of you that life is a miracle. His imprint on our lives will last forever."

When we were young we used to say

I pull my eyes away from Mycroft's, angry tears burning down my cheeks. I try to forget what he did but it's impossible. Every time I look at him I see betrayal. I'm pretty sure that Sherlock wouldn't have sold him out like that.

I try to focus on what the priest is saying but it all slips into blur as I imagine what Sherlock would say if he were here. But if he were here this wouldn't be happening anyway..

My thoughts are drawn back to when we were younger...

That you only hear the music when your heart begins to break

"John."
"Yes, Sherlock."
"Will you be sad if I die?"
"Nah.."
"Really John?"
"Of course I'd be sad Sherlock."
"Why?"
"What do you mean why?"
"Why would you be sad?"
"Because you're my best friend."
"I am?"
"Of course you are Sherlock!"
"You're mine."
"Your what sorry?"
"Best friend, John Watson you are my best friend."
"Thanks... If you died my heart would break."
"What song would play?"
"Pardon?"
"Wouldn't there be a song you thought of?"
"I don't understand you Sherlock."

But now I get it. I can feel my heart breaking and all I can hear is your soft yet strong baritone voice whispering in my ear. I can hear your nimble fingers lightly plucking the violin strings and the elegant way your bow swept across the strings.

I know what you mean now Sherlock.

Now we are the kids from yesterday

"And now, Mycroft Holmes will be saying a few words."

I adjust my tie and step up, acutely aware of the tears threatening to overflow. I reach my hand into my deep trouser pocket, softly rubbing my thumb against the silky lining and pull out my speech. I unfold the paper, meticulously straightening the creases.

"Sherlock Holmes was my brother. He was my little brother and I should have protected him. He was a brilliant, amazing man. He was clever and a useful relation to have in terms of cases. But I want to talk about my favourite Sherlock. Ten year old Sherlock.

"He loved pirates. He liked to eat sweets. He used to sneak into my room at midnight and try to 'snuggle with My'. Some weekends we'd have midnight feasts, he'd bring the sweets and I'd bring the cakes. We'd sit in my room stuffing ourselves silly with sugary snacks until Sherlock fell asleep on my shoulder. I'd drape a blanket over his shoulder and fall asleep next to him.

"On mornings he would wake me up at the craziest times to play pirates with him. We'd run into the garden, dressed up in eye patches and scarves while we pretended to search for buried treasure. I would... I'm sorry.." I choked the last two words, overcome with emotion.

"I can't ever make up for what I've done; I want my young and carefree brother back. But.. Sherlock and I are children of yesterday.