Mycroft woke up blearily and for a second he almost forgot that he had murdered his own father. With the sun shining on his face, his soft sheets feeling lovely and smooth. He was almost happy but unfortunately reality sunk back in. He was no longer sleeping on a bed of clouds but crashing to the cold hard ground. Not even his little sister curled up beside him after sneaking into his room last night. He cried as he observed the young girl. She looked tired and miserable. She was sucking on her thumb and silently crying into the mattress. He felt terrible. He knew that his breakdown yesterday had affected her badly. He was struggling to place the pieces of the puzzle in his head. Everything was overwhelming and he could not stop his mind racing, attacking him, forcing him to think of how he was now a murderer. He felt sick. He jumped out of bed and rushed to the bathroom. He vomited until he was dry heaving. His throat bleeding and burning of acid. He felt terrible.
Mycroft rested on the bathroom floor for well over half an hour before he returned to his room. His sister was still asleep on his bed. He walked towards his cupboard, pulled out a duffel bag and stuffed any essential items for him and his sister if they ever needed to leave in an emergency. He was just zipping up the bag when he heard his sister wake up. He turned to look at her. She was looking at him with confusion. He knew that he had to explain what happened to her. He was not looking forward to this. How do you tell a four year old that you had killed their father. Mycroft placed the bag down and went over to sit next to his little sister.
"Sherlock. I need to tell you something. This is very hard for me so please just listen. Our father he...ummm.....he died." Mycroft struggled to keep his composure. He was close to crying. What was most horrifying to him was the lack of reaction from the young girl. Mycroft knew then that it was the right decision for them to leave this house as fast they could. He would not allow Sherlock to turn into their mother. Into a blank and emotionless robot. He wanted his little sister back. He could not bear the thought of him losing her. Just at that moment Alfred walked into the room. He looked nervous but determined.
"Get dressed quickly. We need to leave. Someone in the house called the police about your fathers death. We need to leave before they get here." Alfred was rushing towards Sherlock helping the girl get dressed. Mycroft grabbed a hoodie and a pair of jeans. He got dressed in his bathroom. Tears rolling down his face. How could this have happened. When he exited the bathroom. Sherlock and Alfred were standing with Alfred holding Sherlock's hand with the duffell bag on his shoulder. The walk to the back door was intense and uncomfortable. Sherlock spent the whole time crying. She was scared, leaving the place where she had lived all her life. Mycroft on the other hand felt numb and emotionless. He walked through the halls of the mansion with little a care. Once they had left the building they walked over to Alfreds Car. Alfred placed the duffel bag in the boot. Sherlock climbed into the back seat next to Mycroft who fell asleep a couple of minutes into the journey
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Mycroft blearily opened his eyes. He had a headache and was disorientated. He was lying on a couch with a stay blanket placed on top of him. It took him a while to remember that no he was not lying on his bed at home but instead he was in Alfred's Flat. It was decorated in warm mutual colours. It was nicely furnished with oak furniture. A crackling fire was the highlight of the room. It was illuminating the room in a nice glow. A cat lay sprawled out infront of the fire. Basking in the warmth. Mycroft did not want this moment to end.
Sherlock crept into the room. She was looking nervous and frightened."Mycie Can i sleep next to you?" Of course he could not say no to the young girl. He pushed back the sheets and allowed his little sister to lie next to him. It was not long before the two of them were fast asleep.
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Born in the Wrong Body-Sherlock Fanfic
FanfictionSherlock Holmes has always known that he was a boy but it takes a while for other people to catch up. He hates the dresses his mother forces him to wear and his long curly brown hair. He hated that he looked like a girl.
