Shut Down

Sherlock shuts down, Mycroft visits, John waits

"Sherlock..." Mycroft whispered, "Sherlock, it's me." 

Sherlock did not open his eyes, but Mycroft knew he was awake. His chest rose irregularly. He was crying, Mycroft knew. He learned to do this when he was seven or so - and Father was tired of having a cry baby. 

"Sherlock, I know you can here me," Mycroft whispered with all his repose and dignity, but John, listening outside the room, could here the caring. 

"Sherlock, I know what you've gone and done to yourself again. I know what you're doing." 

Sherlock did not respond. Mycroft was dismayed to feel tears in his eyes. Sherlock, his little brother. How often had he done this - sat by his bedside, waiting. How often had Sherlock shut down as a child - only to come back when Mycroft was there. When he was safe again. 

Mycroft stroked Sherlock's curls. He regretted every negative emotion and word inflicted on his brother. How often had he himself chastised him? How little he had been given love. 

Mycroft remembered seeing Sherlock for the first time after he had gone to Uni, leaving Sherlock alone for the first time. His brother had ignored him, had not shown him the bruises. But mycroft knew, saw when he flinched or winced.

He had been angry at Sherlock. He had wished for a normal family and a normal brother. He had told Sherlock so. 

"Sherlock, I know you are awake. I want you to know something, something very important." Mycroft paused, 

"I love you Sherlock. You are my little brother and I am delighted at this fact" 

Sherlock gave no response, and Mycroft was going to leave him alone. He thought about staying with him, as he had when they were children and Sherlock was unable to cope with the world and his own mind. But Sherlock was a grown man. 

He stood. He stroked Sherlock's hair again, and this time Sherlock reached up and grabbed his hand. He held it tight. Mycroft sat down and held Sherlock's hand until he fell asleep in earnest. He listened to his brother's breathing, and then, he heard him whisper something in his sleep. 

Mycroft bent low to hear, 

"John" he whispered. 

Mycroft left gently took his hand back. Sherlock slept on. 

Mycroft put away his feelings, his love for his brother. He put on his passive face - his emotionless facade. 

Mycroft looked at John, who did not look back at him. John was in only a t-shirt, which Mycroft had not thought possible, and his pants were crumpled. shadows clung under his eyes, and Mycroft heard what John did not say. 

"Sherlock" John whispered, with his unkemptness and his worry. 

Reviews

[K.E. Son]

WOW. That brotherly love described was so strong! :))) I love how you used Sherlock and Mycroft to emphasize this. There are a few grammatical errors, but this piece is really good. You did well in describing Sherlock and Mycroft's relationship in detail. I hope to read more from you. Keep up the good work! :)))