Chapter 11: This is how I think of us

Sherlock carefully closed the door. He slowly stepped toward Mycroft; his eyes never left his brother. Mycroft was still sitting, he looked back at him, also with constant attention, but added with guilt, and care.

Sherlock sat down at the chair next to Mycroft's bed.

"Mycroft, finally it's our moment."

"I think so, yes. I hope there will be no other one who would barge in here anymore. I have to admit, talking too much to many people made me rather more tired than this poison actually being able to." Mycroft smiled at his brother.

Sherlock looked sad. He certainly was. He bit his lips.

"Mycroft, I have questions."

"Okay?"

"You have to tell me the truth."

"Yes?"

"First of all, is this somehow because of me? Why did you drink that poison? Or did anyone force you to do this but you cannot name him to me? This doesn't look like you, I keep thinking but I just cannot find a good reason why you did this to yourself. This is not the first time you fail in your government work, Mycroft, I know it. So why now?"

Mycroft shut his eyes hard. He had expected this question, and here it came. He suddenly felt even more tired.

"No Sherlock, this is not about you. This is totally my choice. I've always wanted to end this life."

"Why, Mycroft?"

"Because I want to die. It's enough, I can't take it anymore, so I quit. That's what happened, Sherlock." Mycroft tried to avoid Sherlock's gaze.

"But you never were suicidal..."

"Suicidal? It runs in the family, isn't it? When Norbury happened, and you poisoned yourself with drugs, was it only for the case? How many times have you treated yourself with chips to know it's the only peak of being suicidal?" Mycroft looked up intensely at his brother. "The first time you saw Eurus, didn't you think she was suicidal too? You thought it was just one of her tricks? But why did she trick you that way, for what? Why did the idea of blowing her head up with a gun come to her mind? And why did she let you know she had a gun in the purse? She was suicidal too, Sherlock, and she wanted you to see. She wanted your help."

Mycroft let out a long sigh. "Brother mine, since I heard of that story, I always feel so bad to remember all the awful things I did to my own sister. Locking her up, treat her like a hopeless maniac. Even if it is who she is, you know what bothers me the most? I have never tried to treat her like my own blood sister. And once she got out of my prison, she came to see her other brother, then thought of suicide. That's kind of suck to think of, you know."

"Then what, Mycroft? You being dead brings her no good. Nothing changes to her. And what about us? Have you ever thought of us? What about mom and dad? What about me, Mycroft?" Sherlock flared up, his voice breaking.

"I don't want to fucking care anymore, Sherlock." Mycroft snapped back, he tried to raise his voice but he sounded broken. "I am sick of this life, all the burdens, the responsibilities, I'm sick of my fucking repulsive self, Sherlock. I tried so hard, so many years, now I just want a break for good, am I asking for too much, brother mine? Just let everyone take care of their own damn selves, how bad does that sound?"

Sherlock was speechless. Mycroft took a moment, then he continued.

"Do you know the feeling when I look in the mirror and abhor what I saw in there? Why should I continue my pointless lonely life anyways, Sherlock?" He paused a bit. "I do not need help, because I know damn well who I am, what I did, what I want, what I should do, and people's help cannot change it. That's why I needed to decide this on my own, and I did. So yes, I'm sorry I didn't ask for your approval before ending my life, Sherlock... I'm just really really tired, don't force me to continue living, brother."

Sherlock did not say anything. He took a moment to think of what Mycroft just said. His brother – his brilliant pompous brother – he cannot imagine it – Mycroft was actually suicidal! And he already succeeded in killing himself! Not just any trick, not any secret reason, no one forced him. He really did this to himself! Sherlock felt like everything he had ever known was turning upside down.

Mycroft leaned a little more in his pillows.

"This is not the first time I did this, Sherlock. I don't know if telling you this can ease you up any bit or not, but this idea has always been inside my mind. Actually, I tried once, I've got scars to prove." A quick smile flashed across his face. "But then I got scared. I thought of mom, dad, and you. That was when you were in college years, and we barely met anymore."

Giving a little thought, he corrected his line. "Well actually, we hadn't talked since a few years before that. Work sucked, I hadn't been used to this role of mine yet, and that was when my first big mistake happened. People died, Sherlock, on my hand. I just wanted to quit, to run away, to end this life, I really did, but then I felt worried about what you might become if I weren't alive to force you to rehab. And no one had known about Eurus yet. If I had died that early, she might have been experimented on like a lab rat right after my death. Maybe. So yes, I cut myself up, and then I called the ambulance. How shameful. You can imagine my PA's reaction back then!" He then chuckled a little. Sherlock grimaced, he continued staring at his brother without saying anything.

Mycroft continued.

"What I'm trying to point out is, Sherlock, this has always been me. I am suicidal, this thought, this hope to die runs inside me, not just recently. And it is not because of you. This is what makes me me! I surpassed it because I had got too many things to take responsibility for. But now, as time has passed, and I can see that you, John, and everyone else will manage just so well the mess that I would leave behind, I now dare to do what I desire the most. Of all the people you must know how cruel it is to force someone to continue living a life he no longer desires, just for others' sakes... Sherlock, I now finally let myself becomes selfish, you must rather feel happy for me."

Sherlock closed his eyes. Then he looked at his brother, still breathless after his little heartful speech, but Mycroft looked satisfied and was currently smiling at him. Took a deep breath, Sherlock chose the words carefully.

"I cannot stop thinking that if I showed you more care, this wouldn't have happened at all. Yesterday, if I came to you sooner? Or when the plane crashed, if I were by your side? Or before all of these, if I were a better brother, if I cared for you more, just as half of what you always did to me, I would not be losing my only brother today." Sherlock felt tears running down his cheek.

Mycroft felt speechless. He tried to sit up and reached for Sherlock. Sherlock stood up to come closer, then leaned down to embrace his brother, he tried to savor the feeling while hoping his hug wouldn't hurt Mycroft. He regretted he hadn't been close to Mycroft, now when the time was up, he suddenly felt scared of losing him.

"Hey, Sherlock... Don't..."

"I'm sorry Mycroft. I haven't been a good brother, but I always expected too much from you. We all did. It's us who lead you to this point, we never cared for what you were thinking or feeling, and we let you be so lonely for so long... I know it, Mycroft, I always know how lonely you are, but all I ever did was to let you deal with it yourself." Sherlock sobbed. "Brother, I'm sorry!"

"Sherlock... I'm older than you, you don't have to take care of me. I..."

"No, you know that's not true. I have my share of responsibility too, and I fucking threw it away!"

Mycroft didn't reply. He didn't know what to say, his tired mind didn't allow him to think of a good reaction to this unexpected burst of Sherlock. Mycroft just let himself feel Sherlock's hug, God knew how much he missed it. He felt so at ease now, if he would have to die this exact moment, he would welcome death with a smile.

Still hugging Mycroft, Sherlock mumbled in his brother's shoulder.

"Mycroft, how are you feeling? I can hear you're in short of breath."

Mycroft leaned more into the hug the best his weaken body allowed. His right hand clutched tightly on his brother's shirt. Mycroft closed his eyes.

"It hurts so much, Sherlock. My head hurts, my stomach hurts, every inch of my body hurts. But you know what hurts the most, Sherlock? ... It is leaving this world soon, without enough time to take care of my own brother, as he claims himself to be blamed for my own chosen death. Don't do this to me, Sherlock. I would not rest if I know you will spend time blaming yourself. Do you want me to be a ghost haunting you around, brother dear?" Sherlock could not stop a tight smile at his brother's words. "Sherlock, listen to me. None of this was your fault. I am glad to have you as my brother, I have always been so proud of you, you were always my only true friend. Don't you blame yourself. My life might be a little shorter than you expected, but it is so much longer than I expected, all because of you. So, when I die, I want you to mourn me for just a few days, okay? Then, this is what I ask of you, please promise me you will delete me."

Sherlock pushed his brother back at once. He was shocked by Mycroft's request.

"What are you saying, Mycroft? Do you really think that little of me? Do you think everything I remember about my only brother is to be wasted away, not worth a thing? Do you think I'm too weak to handle your death? As if I was still 6 years old?"

"It won't matter, Sherlock. These memories, they will only bring you pain every time you revisit them, as I've chosen this cowardly way to end my life. Your wound would be reopened every time you think of me. These are not worth keeping, not worth your pain or your memory space. We don't really have many good memories together, Sherlock, and you know that. All the best was already wiped up off you since your childhood, and after that, all about us was just arguing and turning backs to each other. These are not worth keeping if they would bring you more pain, Sherlock."

Sherlock was shocked at his brother's words. He stared at Mycroft with teary eyes.

"That is true, Mycroft, I'm not having many good memories regarding us. But I know, that... there once were many. We once were so close, I know we were, I just didn't remember, but..." He blinked; a tear ran down his cheek. "But I don't want to forget about you, Mycroft, even the bad memories of us, don't you ask me this awful request! Why are you always so bossy over me, Mycroft? I don't want to forget a thing; I never want to forget you. I don't want you to completely disappear. I want to keep you alive in my memories, it's my right, you cannot force me to wipe you up, like you once taught me with Victor's. It was you, right? It was you who taught me how to delete memories. But I accidentally deleted both you and him and Eurus. I..."

Mycroft raised his hand to touch Sherlock's tear.

"This, is why I don't want you to remember, Sherlock. Because me, or Victor, we cannot be with you anymore, so your tears for us would be wasted. Don't shed tears for us. Forget about us. It was harder back then, when you had so much great memories with Victor, and you were too fragile and little. It shouldn't be that hard this time. You're not keeping many good memories of us, and you've grown stronger, my brother. You can do this, save yourself from needless pain, delete me."

Sherlock grabbed Mycroft's hand.

"No."

"I told Anthea, and mom and dad. They will help you through this, again. They will not mention me to you. And I don't want a funeral or a gravestone. After I die, just cremate me then scatter the ashes in Musgrave..." Mycroft forced a thin smile. "Brother, listen to me, I'm not having the energy to argue with you anymore, just... trust me this final time, forgetting about me should be better for you."

Sherlock looked at Mycroft with his angry tearful eyes. He felt physical pain in his heart. Sherlock wiped away his tears.

"You're so funny, Mycroft. Why do you think I'll listen to you or do anything as you wish I do? I was never a good brother, why should I become one now? Especially... especially when my brother is not there to care anymore..." Sherlock sobbed with a hand covering his face. "Mycroft, you said it's because I do not have our good memories so it's not worth remembering. How about you tell me? Tell me about our childhood, Mycroft. It's not fair that only you have the best memories, it's not fair that they will all be deleted with your demise. Tell me, Mycroft! How were we? What did you teach me?  Did we have nicknames, Mycroft? Or a secret code? Mycroft... brother... I'm not ready, why do you not care about me anymore, Mycroft? Why are you leaving me? What can I still do for you? I..."

Mycroft reached out to touch Sherlock, then he used all his might to pull him to his embrace. They hold on to each other, for a long moment, no one said anything. Mycroft just rested his dizzy head on Sherlock's curls, while Sherlock listened closely to his brother's agitated heartbeats and continued weeping silently.

"You called me My. And I called you Sherly. Our secret code was, smiling ghostly sunflower". Mycroft smiled at the childish memory. "Don't ask me why, it was your idea. You used to hug me a lot, just like this. You hugging me always made me feel so good about myself, as if I succeeded in being a bigger brother. I would read you books, you liked The adventures of Dunno and his friends best. Hungry Swifty, I am told. Ate an iron that was cold. Does this bring you any memories, Sherlock? We always laid under the oak tree every afternoon, and you would play with ants while I read. When it was a full moon, you would ask me to make you a tea, and you would use a silver spoon to stir it under the moonlight, you said a tea god would come up. We never met a tea god, but you would try it the next month. And, you didn't like to eat, except if I promised to make you a leaf hat after the meal. We would go looking for ripped Indian almond fruits, then use a brick to get its seed. And Panama berries. And..." Mycroft suddenly felt overwhelmed with so many flashbacks flooded to his mind all at once. All the precious memories he tried so hard to keep at the back of his brain, he never dared to rewatch them, he was always worried of sentiments. A sharp pain in his chest unawarely took his breath away.

Sherlock pulled back to look at his brother's face when Mycroft suddenly stopped talking. Mycroft looked pale and his breath was ragging. He shivered like he was feeling cold. Sherlock asked with a hint of tremble in his voice.

"Let me help you lay down, okay?"

Mycroft nodded. He could feel his remained energy draining up. He felt like he was going to pass out again. Sherlock helped him lay down, he touched his brother's forehead and felt the perspiration start forming. His temperature was starting to increase again.

"Mycroft, let me call for your doctor?"

"No, please, Sherlock... No." Mycroft wearily shook his head.

"John?"

"For what, Sherlock? Buy me some more minutes, for what? Look at me, Sherlock, I'm dying anyway, and having you here is my last solace. Please stay with me... I don't want to be alone..."

"Of course, Mycroft, of course I'm with you..."

Sherlock worriedly reach for the wet cloth, but Mycroft stopped him and hold his hand, he looked fixedly at his younger brother's eyes.

"Sherlock, there is still one thing I just remember to ask for your forgiveness..."

"Stop saying sorry Mycroft, or I will never forgive you for that..."

"Let me talk, brother... or it'll be late..."

"I don't care about your sorries Mycroft, just stop saying them, you have said more than enough, I don't care, just please... hang on." Sherlock bit his lips hard.

Mycroft gave his brother a sad smile.

"I'm hanging on, Sherlock, but I can feel my time's up. I need to tell you what I should have told you very long ago... I'm sorry. You never were an idiot. You were a brilliant sweet little boy. Everyone liked you. I'm sorry I told you that, that was very mean of me. I only wanted to... erase Eurus from your mind... I was not the smart one, she was, but... it would be better if you didn't remember her. I just hoped that you could grow up as an idiot normal happy child." Mycroft smiled with tears shining in his eyes. "It seemed like I fail. You were never an idiot, and you weren't a happy child... Forgive me, Sherlock, for everything I ever did, and everything I didn't do. I was not a proper big brother. I lied to you. I manipulated your mind. I lead you to dangerous paths. How I hope we could be what we used to be... back then..."

Sherlock felt his heart hurt at Mycroft's words. He held his brother's hand tightly.

"I never actually blamed you Mycroft. Actually, it must be me who should ask for your forgiveness. The way I talked to you when we were on that plane...was just horrible. I just said that because... I wanted to blame you, but I always know it's not your fault. Never your fault, Mycroft. Everyone knows that. Magnussen's was totally my responsibility. You warned me but I didn't listen to you. I screwed up and you always had to clean up the consequences. You don't get to say sorry; you never should say sorry to me brother... You did nothing wrong to me, to anyone in this family, Mycroft... Can you hold on for a little longer? I have so many things I haven't told you, you haven't told me much about our childhood either. I need more time, please, Mycroft..."

Mycroft smiled at his brother. He felt so peaceful now, he never felt so much... compassion from his brother toward him like this. He was so thankful that in his final moments, Sherlock showed him so much care. There must be a God above. He really treated Mycroft so well, that he let him have such a kind brother. Mycroft was at ease now.

"We have enough time, Sherlock. I have no regret now, thank you my brother for being so kind to me today. I'm grateful to have you in my life. If there is an afterlife, I really wish we could be family again. Sherlock... don't mourn for me, move on, for the sake of mom and dad, and for yourself too. Don't let my death ruin you. Remember, Sherlock, this is my choice... Sherlock, I can feel myself slipping fast, I might not talk to you again but..."

Mycroft felt his heart beating loudly against his chest. His head was pounding. It was so hard to stay conscious now. He felt so tired, but he forced himself to hang on for a little longer. Just a little longer. He wanted to tell him. "Sherlock, I love you, I really do. Take care of yourself, take care of them. Live your life, then I will wait for you on the other side. Okay? Sherlock, I always like to call your name. It sounds really good. Sherlock, thank you for being my brother... Farewell, brother mine..."

Sherlock didn't bother to hide his tears and sniffles anymore.

"Mycroft, no, please, ... I love you too, Mycroft, I love you too, do you know that? I love you, you're my first true friend, only you understand me. You've always been there by my side since the day I was born. I never lived in a world without you. You promised me, Mycroft, you promised you will always be there for me. You never break your promises, Mycroft, don't do this now, I'm not ready..."

Mycroft just smiled. He really felt so tired now. His senses all dulled. He couldn't even open his eyes. The pain abnormally subsided, urging him to pass out.

"I want to sleep, Sh' lock..."

Sherlock felt panic seeping in, his ears ringing with white noises and he could not control his fear.

"No. Stay with me, Mycroft... Don't..."

But Mycroft could barely hear him anymore. While trying to stay conscious as his brother's request, Mycroft abruptly had a severe headache, which was actually a thunderclap headache, he struggled for a few minutes then slipped into the world of darkness. Sherlock witnessed his brother's face all of a sudden turn white, he curved up grabbing his head uncontrollably causing the IV drips to slip off. The pain was just too much to bear, he even vomited on the sheet before passing out.

The rest was a whirlwind. Sherlock reacted violently, he was firstly paralyzed in shock then when he realized Mycroft had already lost consciousness, he reached out for his brother's slack form and screamed with all his might. Everyone rushed inside instantly, the situation was too critical that the doctor didn't even have time to make everyone go out. John had to forcefully hug Sherlock to separate him from Mycroft so the doctors could work. They immediately put the oxygen mask on him, but Mycroft could not breathe on his own anymore. Sherlock panicked while watching them urgently insert an endotracheal tube onto Mycroft, but they weren't succeeded in their first try. Mycroft reacted badly, his body convulsing and when they pulled the tube out, Sherlock saw it smear with blood. He screamed again and both John and Anthea must drag him out of the room.