The Little Mouse (BBC Sherlock Fanfic)

Chapter 6: To Be

The following night, Mycroft tossed and turned in his bed. Sleep would not at all come easy to him this time. He had never had this problem before. Of course once in a while he would have trouble sleeping due to his racing mind, but this was different. He was anxious about Rose, about what happened. He had meant what he said to Sherlock. If she had died he would have started a war. What he didn't say was that he would have started it just to see the world burn as he surely would have. He didn't understand why it would have mattered so much if she were dead. He spent time convincing himself that it didn't matter. She was just a little mouse who he was helping out of the maze, and maybe that would be his ticket to the pearly gates should they exist. But he knew all of those excuses were a lie. He didn't know what the truth was, or if he did he refused to look for it. He did know this, it was too dangerous to get her involved anymore. He didn't know why he was doing this, but he decided, at two in the morning, to put on his robe and make his trek to the hospital.

Rose's room was dark with only the gentle glow of the moon shinning into her bedroom. She was curled up into a little ball despite her doctor's instructions because it was her most natural state of sleeping. Her delicate hands were holding the blankets close to her and a little strand of her dark brown hair framed her face gently. She heard a masculine voice say, "You're lonely and in the habit of protecting yourself."

Rose woke up quickly and squeaked when she saw the shadow of a man sitting in a chair beside her bed, near the window. At first she feared it was Moriarty, but she noticed the point of an umbrella and realized that it was Mycroft. She smiled a bit at the revelation but she was still a little peeved. "You shouldn't scare me like that."

"Neither should you." He said then looked down before he came to stand by her side. He rested his hand on the mattress. "How did you realize what was going on?" His voice was gentle, almost melodic as he looked at her, trying to seem as cold as he usually was, but somehow he still seemed docile.

Rose explained to him her process, about how she had thought about Moriarty misdirecting them and so on, and Mycroft listened to her quietly and without much expression. When she finished telling her story he nodded once then gently touched her hand, which was on the bed as she attempted to sit up. "You shouldn't scare me." He repeated.

"I didn't mean to." Rose chuckled silently.

"No, I mean. I shouldn't be scared because of you." Mycroft explained, and Rose understood. He was confused by why he felt any amount of emotion over her well-being. Rose was quiet though as he continued to gently touch her little hand. All there was, was the sound of a gentle, ghostly breeze flowing through the hospital. "Will it leave a scar?" He asked, breaking the silence.

Rose nodded. "Yes, a little one. But it doesn't bother me."

"Mm." He hummed, then sighed softly.

"Is there any reason why you decided to see me now rather than in the morning?" Rose asked, looking at his hand which was mindlessly caressing hers, before she looked up at his face.

"Couldn't sleep." He mumbled soon after her question.

"How did you get past security?"

"I can get past any security." He answered soon after her question, yet his voice was gentle once more.

It was once again silent. Rose continued to look at his face, searching for his eyes, as his were concentrated on her little hand. She felt her heart warm from his caring touch, whether or not that was what he was intending, she didn't know. But it had been a long time since anyone cared (whatever the reason) about how she was doing. Now Sherlock did as did John, and also, apparently, Mycroft. She started to smile, realizing that she was finally going to belong and be happy.