AN: Hey guys so i'm back with the next chapter, do read and leave me a comment afterwards to tell me what you liked about this chapter! Comments really make my day! :) Have fun reading!

Chapter 10: Mycroft Holmes

John hadn't expected the train to be crowded at all as they boarded it. Considering that humans were afraid of going out amongst vampires. He had thought that he would be able to sit as far away from Sherlock as possible to avoid any more possible conflict but looks like fate wouldn't have it as the train pulled in at another station and more people crowded into the train. The vampire shifted, pressing up close to him as the people jostled onto the train squeezing even though there was no more space left to squeeze onto.

Each time the train jolted along on the tracks though, John had to squeeze his eyes shut in fear that he might end up too intimate with the vampire. He could feel as Sherlock leaned his body against his own. The vampire's lips millimeters from his ear. His cool breath did nothing to help John's body as his blood coursed south and his knees became weak.

Over Sherlock's shoulder he could see other vampires that had chosen to go undercover to blend in with the humans and he could also see other humans, some of them, stared at him and Sherlock, squashed into the corner, a vampire like Sherlock and a human like him sharing such a small space and caught in such an intimate position. It was all the fault of the overcrowded train.

By the time they had exited the station, John's cheeks were flushed from embarrassment.

"Come on, keep up your pace," Sherlock said as he grabbed John's hand leading him through the crowd, weaving his way through efficiently.

John was still getting used to the feeling of Sherlock's cool hand in his, leading him, as they exited the station but he willed himself to pull his hand away first. If Sherlock did notice he decided not to say anything as they turned off the next street and took a cab from just around the corner of the station right up to Mycroft's house.

"I haven't been here in ages," Sherlock murmured as he looked up the front of the house. It was a colonial styled three story house on the side of a rather busy street. The only thing was, the house looked like it was unlived in. Weeds and plants had grown all over the sidewalk, there was no car in the driveway. It didn't seem like anyone was home.

"You used to live here?" John asked following Sherlock up to the front gate as the vampire tested the door.

"No, I wouldn't live with him. I came by once or twice to check on him. I never lived here."

The door was surprisingly unlocked and John's instincts told him that they were not alone, as they entered the house and he was on high alert. Silently they moved through the entrance hall, past the seating room and then up the stairs.

"The interior of the house looks too clean to not have been lived in for years," Sherlock mused as he ran a finger over the marble top of a table set in the corner of the hallway and came away with nothing. The absence of dust indicating that there was indeed an occupant, a very recent occupant.

John was surprised at the huge painting in the hallway of what seemed to be Sherlock in his younger days. The painting looked so lifelike, capturing the vampire's eyes and his the way his ebony hair curled in an artistic manner. As he looked at the picture he realized that he didn't know much about Sherlock's past, how he had come to become a vampire or if he had been born as one right from the start. It intrigued him to think of a young Sherlock but he knew that asking, prying deeper into Sherlock's past meant getting attached and he didn't want that…or did he?

"This way," Sherlock said holding open the door to the study as John entered.

Keeping the lights turned off just as they were as their eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room and they began their hunt for the item in question. There was silence as each of them searched in their own little corner of the room for the cane with the golden eagle at the top and just as John had found the cane, standing right in the corner of the cupboard that he had been searching in, he knew there was something wrong. There was someone else in here with them. Before John could take another step to warn Sherlock though there was the sound of a pistol cocking. The little 'click' sounding loud in the silence of the room.

"Don't move," the voice came from the shadows startling John who had his hands raised immediately as the barrel of the gun dug into his back.

"Sherlock…" John called, his voice shaky and full of fear.

"For the love of god Mycroft. Let him go," Sherlock growled, lunging across at his brother, who evaded him, his fangs protruding as he snarled at him. Grasping a shaking John to his side, Sherlock protected him. His brother's presence had totally eluded him, Mycroft had been the one born more gifted in terms of a vampire's special gifts, including cloaking. Sherlock however had been born more gifted with knowledge and mind control and much more meager stuff.

"Surprise, surprise!" the man said chuckling as he flipped on a light switch, the lamp flickering on and casting a dim glow in the study. "Who do we have sneaking about in my house but my own brother and his human pet?" Mycroft said, speaking in a gentle voice with an undertone that spoke volumes.

"I am not his pet!" John lashed out as he stepped out of the protective circle of Sherlock's arm staring at the other vampire, Sherlock's older brother.

"Feisty one isn't he?" Mycroft noted with a little smirk at Sherlock, almost as if to tell him that 'I know these are your kind', "Not so loyal now are we mister?" he said directing the question to John.

"I'm here to speak with you not him," Sherlock said now as he took the cane from John's hands, protectively placing himself between John and his brother as he spoke, "This cane. Tell me where did you get it?" Sherlock asked as he looked it over, examining the golden head of the eagle. It had to be this one, it had to be. It looked exactly the same as the one that he had seen in his dreams.

"You barge into my house uninvited and enquire about a cane!" Mycroft asked quizzically raisin a brow as he dropped himself into his leather chair, "Don't you want to say hello to your brother first? Or maybe ask how he's been doing?" he mocked.

"Don't play games Mycroft. Why do you have this cane? How did you get it?" Sherlock asked, the way in which Mycroft kept evading his questions making him more curious.

"From a pawn shop," Mycroft said with a shrug, not seeing why the cane was of any importance.

"Did you know where I was all this time you had this? All the time that you were in hiding? Why did you go into hiding?" Sherlock said firing off questions now as he grilled his brother.

"Do you suspect me of something Sherlock?" Mycroft asked, a little hurt.

"Just answer my questions."

"You disappeared. No one could find you and after you, Jim killed himself, what was left of your coven dispersed. We each went our own separate ways," Mycroft said.

John noticed the mention of a person named Jim and his ears perked up at the name. Who was that man – or vampire?

"Did you really expect us to stick together when you and your partner were both dead? I'm sure you could see that we were all different. That we wouldn't have stuck together had it not been for you?" Mycroft continued.

"You don't know do you? I was locked! Trapped! Frozen in a tomb of ice. A spell put over it making me sleep for I don't even know how long until John came along to save me! I don't even know how he did it but one moment I was just listening to a voice, his voice, and the next there I was broken out of the ice!" Sherlock explained, "I need to know who it was that put me in there in the first place! But I can't remember a thing save for this," Sherlock said indicating the cane, "This is what I remembered of the person who trapped me. It's the only thing I can go on."

"Your knowledge tripped you up there again Sherlock. The cane was something I got from a pawnshop. Thinking you find the cane doesn't mean you find your killer, so to speak. Have you ever thought that I knew about a spell strong enough to lock you away in god knows where in ice for years?" Mycroft asked.

If anything, Mycroft had the gifts but learning magic along with that? Sherlock didn't think so…at least…he didn't seem like he dabbled in magic but it was still a possibility that he wasn't going to eliminate so soon.

"Then why did you go in to hiding? And what about Lestrade? Why haven't you contacted him?" Sherlock asked.

His brother was silent at that John noted as he watched the conversation. Finally he spoke, "The Father started hunting us down one by one. He's had it out for me more than them because I led a successful raid on his newborns. I wiped out the whole slate clean in the area south of Central District. He got mad at me and began a manhunt to kill me. So I went into hiding," Mycroft said, his hands set in a steeple now as he spoke, "I knew he was watching over Lestrade especially, he knew that if anything I would go to him. So I had to cut all ties…which is why I haven't…" he trailed off, staring off to the place just behind Sherlock and John now, his eyes having caught the red flicker of something in the wall.

"Haven't what?" Sherlock prompted him.

"It's a bomb…" he replied.

"What?" Sherlock asked, his eyes looking to where the red flicker was again.

"We need to get out of here now!" Mycroft said, "I'll answer your questions later."

Quickly he dragged Sherlock and John out of the room and leading them out of the house through the back door as they ran off, keeping to the darkness of the alley. Behind them, just moments after they had left, the bomb went off, the building blowing up. Torn to shreds as orange flames engulfed the house.

"It's the Father…" Mycroft murmured as they stood on the other side of the street now, watching as soon people flocked to the scene.

"Let's head back to Lestrade's. We'll talk more there."