Broken Men

Chapter 5: A Family Reunion

Sherlock leaned back in the seat of the black towns-car and shut his eyes. The car jolted slightly as it went over the bump, but other than that it drove smoothly and effortlessly and he was able to put his attention to the thoughts running through his head.

John.

Nothing more than that. Just John. Molly did make a brief appearance in his mind, but he knew that no matter what happened, Molly would help him. He had no fears of losing her. No, what he feared instead was losing the one person who truly mattered to him.

He'd caught that brief look at him while rushing out the doorway, but he felt that he had lived a lifetime in those moments. He was suddenly aged and weary and exhausted and felt his stamina deplete. He just wanted the car to stop moving and stay still for a while so he could rest himself.

The car rolled to a smooth stop and the door farthest from Sherlock opened up suddenly. He knew who it was without looking, could envision the black umbrella that always accompanied Mycroft wherever he went. He felt Mycroft beside him, could hear him tapping away on his phone. The silence in the car grew to what, to normal people's standards would be uncomfortable, but for the Holmes brothers was normal, if not preferred.

The car started up again, and Sherlock turned to look out the window, watching trees fly by his window, illuminated by the headlights. It was Mycroft that spoke first breaking the silence.

"How was your trip? Any problems?"

Sherlock didn't answer right away, instead taking his time to find words to say. "It was fine. No problems." He didn't feel like telling Mycroft about the slight...inconvenience he had as he was boarding a small charter plane in South Africa. He had been so anxious about finally coming back he hadn't checked to make sure he was secure and on the plane, the only other person there was a woman who was sitting diagonally behind him. She stood up to move to the side, pulling a knife on him, and he had broken her arm disarming her.

But that was more than he wanted to share with Mycroft.

Mycroft just nodded disinterested. "And how about your transition back?" Sherlock remembered himself standing outside of John's therapist's office in the forest, hidden by the trees. He remembered sitting at the table with Molly, hearing her recount John's downward spiral and the pain he felt as he hid himself in the closet and watched John limp his way past down the hallway.

"It was fine. Everything's fine Mycroft." Sherlock was starting to feel uncomfortable. He didn't want Mycroft asking him these questions, especially considering the way their relationship had always been. He inwardly cringed when he heard Mycroft take a deep breath, readying himself to go off on some spiel that he didn't want to hear.

"Sherlock, there's something I need to say."

Sherlock looked out the window, not wanting to see Mycroft's face. "Then say it. I'm not stopping you."

Mycroft cleared his throat before saying "I'm...sorry." He seemed to choke out the last word. He paused

slightly before continuing. "Everything, all this" referring to the events that had transpired since he had Moriarty in his custody "could have been avoided. I was desperate for information and I'm sorry I betrayed you like that."

To say Sherlock was stunned was an understatement though he didn't show it. In fact, he didn't even acknowledge Mycroft's words. He was already feeling new things he had never felt before- the pain and angst he felt because of John, the guilt and regret he felt because of Molly. As far back as Sherlock remembered, and he remembered essentially everything, Mycroft had never shown remorse for anything, be it stealing his toy truck when he was 8 and breaking it, or constantly interfering in his life.

Emotionally Sherlock was raw and didn't want to deal with this right now. He turned his head slightly to look at Mycroft and saw him looking dejected, waiting for Sherlock to acknowledge his words. He squeezed his eyes shut and nodded. Mycroft looked relieved and sank back into the seat of the car, pulling his phone out and reading his emails. If anyone were to look at the scene in the back of the car, they'd see the Holmes brothers as they always were. But Sherlock could feel the change in the air between them, the tension seeming to have dissolved some, but not completely.

Perhaps things would get earlier between them. If not, Sherlock would always remember this moment in the car, driving silently into the dark.