Sherlock was talking with Mycroft before he was going to leave. Sherlock was shaved and had his coat back on. His back still stung quiet a bit from the scratches there but Sherlock ignored it.
Mycroft was still waiting for Sherlock to ask the question. Better for it to be over. Mycroft thought. He hated not being able to protect his brother. Sherlock was born premature and the first time Mycroft got to see him was when Sherlock was in the hospital and in a small incubator. Since then Mycroft wanted to protect his little brother no matter what happened.
He tried everything. The reason why cabs were always there when Sherlock wanted them is because Mycroft pays them to be there. They had another brother, but Mycroft thought he could be a threat to Sherlock so he sent him to America. Mycroft tried everything. But today there was no way to protect him.
"How is John?" Sherlock asked.
Mycroft froze. This was the moment he dreaded. The moment when Mycroft couldn't protect Sherlock.
"He. He um. He shot himself a few days ago. We did as he instructed. He's buried next to your grave."
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FUCK. WHY DID I WRITE THIS. THIS HURTS MY SOUL.
YOU ARE READING
Random Sherlock Oneshots
Fanfiction"I know this is a bit stupid. But..... Happy Birthday Sherlock........... I know this was a waste of time...... Why would I say happy birthday to a grave?" -John Hamish Watson
