Ch. 5- Monster

Sherlock sat in his room fiddling with the hospital bracelet on his arm. His nurse had just replaced it for the eighth time. He was supposed to be getting a visit from John. He was also supposed to be visiting Jim at that same time. He wanted to see John and tell him about how he had been trying to get better. He also knew that John didn't like the fact that he visited Jim. But he wanted to tell Jim what Mycroft had told him. He wanted to give him something to look forward to. He also wanted−needed− to see Jim for his own piece of mind. Sometimes he forgot that Jim was, technically, okay, that he was alive. Some mornings, including this morning, he woke up thinking Jim had succeeded when he jumped from that building. No matter how much the nurses assured him that wasn't the case, he still spent the day feeling sick to his stomach. Occasionally, he even woke up to find that he had wet his bed. That's why he had to visit Jim, no matter how matter how drained it left him afterward. But he was too embarrassed to admit any of that to John when the older man complained about him seeing Jim so much.

He sighed and shoved both hands through his messy curls. He hadn't seen Jim in almost a week. A groan/whimper escaped from his throat as one long arm pressed against his upset stomach, while the other hand clutched at his bare toes. John would just have to try and understand, he thought as tears filled his pale eyes. He was full out crying when he had his nurse send John away. He pulled himself together by the time he was dressed in a white button down, black trousers, and matching black suit jacket. He chose to forgo his scarf and Belstaff.

The scene that met Sherlock's red-rimmed eyes as he stepped into room 331 was vastly different from the scene from several days ago. There were no screams. Just whimpers and muffled sobs.

"Jim?" he said quietly, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. Jim had already taken his medication, so he didn't have to deal with that.

"Everybody hates me here," Jim mumbled from underneath the covers, "Seb still hasn't come to visit. He probably hates me too. I hate me. Why am I even here? What's wrong with me? No one ever tries to help. They're so cold and…cruel. They whisper cruel things. Sometimes they don't even whisper. They say that I'm bad…and evil. But I'm not bad. I'm not evil, Sherlock, I'm not. I'm good. I am."

"I know you're good, Jim. I know that. They just don't understand," Sherlock murmured.

"Sometimes I dream of jumping off a really tall building. It only hurts for a second and then it doesn't and then I'm happy. I'm sad when I wake up. I want to be dead…like in the dreams."

"No," Sherlock exclaimed, yanking back the covers.

The other man was curled in the fetal position, staining his pillow with tears. His dark hair stood up all over his head.

"Don't talk like that," Sherlock pleaded, shuffling closer to the smaller male, "Please, don't…"

"I can't help it."

"Jim…I talked to my brother, and he said that you might possibly leave here one day."

"Leave here?" Jim asked hesitantly, "W-where would I go?"

"Home with me."

"I-I could come home with you and live with you and be with you all the time with no mean doctors?"

"Yes, and I'd look after you and take care of you. Would you like that?"

"Yes! Yes!" he exclaimed, throwing himself at the taller man and wrapping his arms around his neck, "I want to live with you. When can I? I want to go home with you."

"I want that too, but it won't be for some time, Jimmy. There's a lot that has to happen first," Sherlock said, running his fingers through the other man's hair.

"Like what?" he asked, pulling away to look up at him with watery brown eyes.

"Just some things. Nothing you need to worry about."

"Oh okay," he said dejectedly before perking up after a moment, "but you'll still visit me until then, right?"

"Of course. As much as I can."

"Good. I don't like not seeing you," Jim said as though he as admitting a secret.

"I don't like not seeing you either. I wish I could visit you every single day."

Jim grinned and pecked Sherlock's cheek before furrowing his brow. "You said your brother. I didn't know you had a brother."

Interesting, Sherlock thought, he remembers me and John, but not Mycroft. "Yes, he's my older brother just like Seb is yours."

"What's his name?"

"Mycroft."

"That's a funny name," Jim said, giggling, "What's he like?"

"Boring, but he didn't used to be that way when we were younger." Sherlock wrinkled his nose.

"What was he like back then?"

"Intelligent and fun and caring. Now he's just dull and annoying. When we were kids, he would play with me, teach me, read to me, and look after me."

"Just like Seb used to do for me!" Jim exclaimed, climbing onto the other man's lap and leaning against his chest.

"Yes. Even though he's seven years older than me, he never treated me like I was just a 'dumb little kid' even if I wanted him to play pirates with me."

"Pirates?" Jim said, tilting his head back to look at the other man curiously.

"Yes. I was obsessed with them until the age of fourteen. I remember once when I was seven, he was looking after me for the day..."

Seven year old Sherlock sighed as he wandered out of his bedroom, clutching his stuffed bumblebee by one tattered wing. His parents had tried to throw the bee away, stating that the seven year old was too old for such a babyish item, but Sherlock had rescued it from the trash as soon as he could. Usually, he kept it hidden underneath his mattress, but his parents were away for the weekend, leaving him in the care of a fourteen year old Mycroft, who he was searching for at that very moment. He found the older boy in their father's study, sitting at their father's desk working on a paper for school. Mycroft didn't even look up as the younger boy trudged into the room.

"Myc, I'm dying of boredom," Sherlock whined, dropping to the floor and leaning against the desk, "Do something, p'ease."

The auburn teen sat back and looked down at his little brother slouched against the desk in nothing but a pair of bumblebee pants and a thin purple jumper, clutching his stuffed bumblebee. He was obviously taking advantage of their parents' absence to indulge in things they would never allow: the bumblebee and not wearing trousers. It was a surprise that he was actually wearing a jumper.

"No experiments today, Lock?" he asked, smiling fondly at his younger brother.

"No. Mummy threw out my jam and tadpoles before she and father left. I've got nothing to do, which is why I'm dying of boredom."

Mycroft stared at his brother for a moment before getting an idea. "Lock, go grab your pirate hat and sword, put on some trousers, and meet me in the backyard in fifteen minutes," he said, grinning as he set his paper aside and stood.

Excited and curious, Sherlock hopped up from the floor and ran to his room to grab his things, pretending not to have heard anything about trousers. After a small debate with himself, he shoved his bumblebee underneath his pillow with a promise to tell him all about Mycroft's surprise later.

Exactly fifteen minutes later, Sherlock found his older brother standing in the middle of the back yard holding his own fake sword that he hadn't played with in years and a large folded sheet of paper.

"Lock, your trousers" Mycroft said as the little boy ran over to him without an ounce of shame at being outdoors in just his pants.

"We're in the backyard, Myc. No one can see me. Besides, if we're playin' pirates, they'd just get dirty anyway. We are playin' pirates, right? You're really going to play with me?"

Instead of answering, Mycroft handed over the sheet of paper and watched as pale eyes widened in delight when Sherlock unfolded the paper.

"A treasure map!" he exclaimed.

"Aye, and it's up to you, Captain Lock, to find the treasure," Mycroft said, pulling an eye patch from his trouser pocket and putting it on, "So lead on."

For a moment, Sherlock thought about how much more fun it would be with more people, with some friends maybe, but he quickly banished that thought. He had Mycroft, and that was more than enough. Mycroft, who stopped doing school work to create a treasure hunt for him. Mycroft, who played pirates with him even if he was a bit too old to play. Mycroft, who followed him all over the backyard and let him shout orders at him. Mycroft, who even had a sword fight with him over the found treasure chest. Mycroft, who was the best brother in the whole world, Sherlock thought as he opened his newly won treasure chest.

"Bees!" he exclaimed, pulling out a booklet of bumblebee stickers.

"Only stick them on your things in your room, Lock," Mycroft said from where he was sprawled out on the ground.

"Okay. Thank you, Myc!" Sherlock said, launching himself at the older boy and throwing his arms around his neck.

"He sounds like a good big brother," Jim said, smiling.

"He was," Sherlock agreed reluctantly, "but then he left."

"Where'd he go?"

"To University." Sherlock frowned.

"Did he, at least, come back to visit?"

"Yes, but it wasn't the same. He abandoned me and left me to deal with those imbeciles at school all by myself. All he cared about was himself and school and work. And then he had the audacity to ask me to come stay with him after he left uni. As if I'd want to live with him after he left me."

Jim bit his lip before saying, "Um, Sherlock…it kinda sounds like he went away to uni so he could get a good job and a nice flat and be able to take care of you even better. It doesn't sound like he meant to abandon you. He probably cares a lot about you."

"If that was true, then why doesn't he act like he cares? All he does is meddle in my life and annoy me on purpose and treat me like I'm still seven years old. He doesn't care. He just wants to boss me around because he has to be in charge of everything and everybody."

"Have you ever talked to him about any of this?"

"As if he'd listen to a word I say!" Sherlock said, folding his arms across his chest.

"Maybe you should try."

Sherlock huffed and changed the subject until their time was up, but he couldn't stop thinking about what Jim said. Did Mycroft really still care about him? He said he did, but he sure didn't act like it. Did he? He was constantly spying on him and telling him what to do and being annoying. Why did he do that?

John was supposed to visit again, but Sherlock felt bad for sending him away the week before, so he hid in his room until group therapy. When the sharing stick got to him, he said, "I miss the close relationship between me and my older brother more than anything." Everyone looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to elaborate, but he just shook his head and passed the stick on.

He got an unexpected visit from Mycroft that weekend. The older man was already seated in the empty room when Sherlock shuffled in wearing black and yellow socks and a matching jumper gifted to him by one of the older nurses who complained about him "not having an ounce a fat on his body to keep him warm."

"I talked about you this week," he said the moment he sat down.

"Is that so? Complaining about how fat and annoying I am?" It was said indifferently, but Sherlock could see the flash of hurt in his brother's eyes.

"Well you're not really fat anymore with all of your dieting," he mumbled.

"So just how annoying I am then, and how I live to−"

"Do you really care about me?" Sherlock blurted out.

Mycroft tried to keep the shock off of his face, but it was almost impossible. How could Sherlock ask him that? Was it not obvious? "Are you really asking me that?" he said after a moment, "Everything I've ever done in my life has been with you in mind. Everything I've done, I've done it for you."

"How? All you do is stick you big nose into my business time after time. You spy on me. You try to tell me what to do all of the time. You act like you're so much smarter than me."

The older male sighed before turning to look directly at his little brother and saying, "You're not an older brother, so you won't completely understand, but I will never stop seeing you as my baby brother, who used to run around nothing but his pants. Though that's probably because you still occasionally run around in nothing but your pants. But the point is, you're my little brother, and I'm your big brother, and I will always do everything in my power to protect you whether you want me to or not. Even if it's from yourself. And also, I know that you are smart, Sherlock. You are beyond smart, which is why it pains me to see you make such bad decisions sometimes. I am sorry if I ever made it seem as though I didn't care for you."

"I miss the way things were when we were kids. I miss the way you were when we were kids." The younger man mumbled, fidgeting with the sleeve of his jumper.

"How exactly have things changed?" Mycroft asked curiously, "I still take care of you just as I did back then. I still−"

"But back then you loved me, and you acted like it," Sherlock said, staring up at his brother through red-rimmed eyes, "You didn't act as though I was just this huge burden that you wish you could get rid of."

"Sherlock…Lock…I do still love you. That has never changed. You're not a burden. You never have been."

"Then why don't you act like you care. You're always saying 'caring isn't an advantage' and acting like I'm a bother and an embarrassment. All you care about is your image and your reputation and your job."

"I care about those things because they allow me to take care of you. Lock…" Unable to come up with the words to reassure his brother, Mycroft did something he hadn't done in over a decade. He pulled his younger brother into a hug. He was surprised when Sherlock returned the hug fiercely, burying his face in the older man's neck. The hug didn't feel as awkward as he expected it to, which made Mycroft wish he had done it much sooner. "I love you, Lock. I always have, and I always will. I promise I'll try to show it better."

"I l−I'll try too, Myc." Sherlock said, his words muffle against his brother's neck.

Mycroft had come to visit his brother to speak about him avoiding John, but he couldn't bring himself to bring it up at that moment. He was finally fixing things with Sherlock, something he hadn't wanted to do for years but had had no idea how.

Long chapter…kinda...I think. I'll try to update this as well as my other story soon. Review if you want.