The Last Romantics

Wrath of The Real World

The expression on his face said it all, and I could read him from the inside out. At first there was a look of humor, as if he assumed I was joking and attempting to scare him with such a worst case scenario. Then this smile faded, or rather that look of good humor, to a more concerned look as realized at last I was serious with such a declaration. And then, once the gravity of such a confession took hold, that ever familiar look of anger over dominated his usually serious expression. I could see it in his eyes, my own failure leading to my demise, or even worse my success leading to an heirless company! His fists clenched, though he seemed in no position to make a move against me. He seemed shell shocked, as if with such a declaration he was left without any words or motions that could counter it. This moment of surprise passed, and before long he found use of his tongue and decided to speak his own opinion.
"That's completely out of the question." He said at last.
"I'm my own person, Mycroft, and I can live as I see fit! I don't need your..."
"Yes you do!" was his immediate response, cutting me off almost as soon as I claimed independence from him. "You do need my approval, Sherlock, because I am your only living relative, your only friend, and the sole supplier of your income! If you chose to purse such an interest, if you chose to abandon any rationality, as well as your family and destiny, then I will be forced to let you face the grave consequences of such mistakes. You will not like where such a lifestyle takes you, that is for sure!"
"I can make an income on my own, and besides, you'll have me sit around this house all day, collecting dust, while my mind searches for meanings beside itself! I'm wasted in this Industrial town, I'm not meant for the factory!" I exclaimed, at last taking my feet with the intentions of making my final departure.
"And who will run it, when I'm gone? Who will maintain the good family name, with you smearing our reputation all over the morning papers?" Mycroft demanded.
"Have children Mycroft, that's where all men get their respective heirs." I insisted, to which Mycroft pulled a face which was far beyond disgust.
"I need not engage in such brutality, not while I have you!" Mycroft insisted.
"Well you don't have me, not anymore. I'm leaving." I announced at last.
"Leaving? To University, of course?" my brother clarified, rather lost in a conversation that was not led by his own speech or his own intentions.
"No, to Victor." I admitted at last. That might have been the last straw, for as soon as I took a step towards the door he thrusted a fist across to either side, making the exit impassable without his direct permission. I stumbled back, though with firm resolution to fight my way out if possible. I knew by now that my presence here would force me into a prisonlike lifestyle, and if I would be send onto university my life would in turn be over. Either way, if I stayed here I would be wasted. I had to leave, one way or another.
"You will not be running to that man, that fiend!" Mycroft demanded. "I know his type, the men who consort with the Devil! So unspeakable are their tasks..."
"They're just artists! They're not Satanists, they're not criminals!" I exclaimed in Victor's defense, finding my brother's accusations to be harshly unfair.
"THEY'RE WORSE! And to think, my baby brother falling within such ranks, defiled, dirtied by their constant touch...no I will not allow it!" Mycroft exclaimed, stamping his foot down on the ground with such force as any motivated man could muster. Though despite his firmness I myself was stubborn, almost as much set in my ways as he.
"I am leaving; I don't care what you have to say about it. My life is a novel just beginning, and the moment I step my foot out this door will be the most exciting chapter of all. I am making a life for myself, Mycroft! I'm not just relying on the family I was born into." I declared at once, to which my brother turned just about white as a sheet. For a moment I could see the contemplation in his eyes, wondering if it would be best to keep me chained somewhere in the basement for lack of a better option. He understood that he could not keep me in this house without such restrains, and it was beginning to dawn on him that I was determined in my flight. And so what was he to do, except let me go?
"If you leave now, you will leave everything behind." Mycroft demanded at once. "You will take nothing but the clothes on your back, and will be cut off entirely from my assistance. None of your inheritance will reach you, and it will be the last time I accept your company. If you walk from me now, Sherlock, you walk from me forever."
"I don't want..." I hesitated, knowing that it was my sentiment that he was playing towards. He knew it would be hard for me to leave him behind, even if he had changed so drastically from the man I had once adored. But my life was moving forward, my destiny was playing out before me! He was nothing but deadweight, and I stayed just to keep our relationship in tact it would be a shattered, trustless thing at best. There would be no purpose to staying, now that my mind was made up. I took a step forward, and Mycroft in turn let his hand fall away from the frame.
"You choose to leave?" my brother wondered, his voice harsh but emotional, as if he was attempting to keep his true misery at bay. He hated to see me leave, and in truth it hurt me to take those steps as well. Though I was prepared for this moment, and just as one would pull a rotted tooth from their mouth, well I too had to take the leap. I had to step away from the library, past my brother who had once loved me, and towards brighter things. I walked slowly, feeling his presence wandering after me like a specter, hoping perhaps to force me into staying by guilt and regret. Though I was determined, and each step I took through that house was more anxious than the next. The door was open to me; the door was mine to leave through! And with each step the memories of my past were fading, each step the photographs scowled and then forgot. Each step was farther and farther away from the life I was never supposed to leave, fallen away from the family who I just so happened to be born into. Good fortune was something entirely different to understanding, and here my family may not be half of what I could make in the worlds that were due to me. The family by blood may not be half as much as by ink. Though despite such realizations I still had the sense to turn, my hand partially towards the door knob before I realized who I was ultimately leaving behind. I looked upstairs once, towards where my bedroom door could partially be seen. And then I looked towards my brother, to where he was standing hopelessly by the stairway banister, clutching to it with weakened hands, as if he was too upset now to keep himself upright.
"Goodbye, Mycroft." I said at last, my last words to him so long as I was concerned. He said nothing in return, perhaps too emotional to process anything that would fit the occasion, and before long he had lost my attention. I turned back to the door, gripped the handle, and from that moment never looked back. The world was calling, and for once in my life I was taking the initiative to answer it.