Sherlock stared down at his Brother's body, the harsh lighting hollowing out Mycroft's cheeks, showing the same sharp cheekbones hidden under layers of rich food and wines. The memories flooded back. How Mycroft used to give him his bottle of milk when his parents ignored him at night. How they used to sit outside under Mycroft's umbrella watching all the cars go by as it rained. Watching all the people. The people that cared. How he used to talk for ages as he clung to Mycroft's hand.
Mycroft. Mycroft had promised that he would always protect Sherlock. And he always did. Too much.
It was his fault, Sherlock realised, and he couldn't bear to remember how his brother had burst through the door to protect him. To keep his promise. No matter what the cost, Mycroft could always find a way to keep a promise.
And he had.
"Sherlock." John gently shook his shoulder.
"LEAVE ME ALONE" Sherlock screamed. He wanted to scream until his eardrums burst, but that wouldn't bring his brother back. Nothi