If You Love Me, Let Me Go

Chapter 21: Can't Remember To Forget You

"Your flight leaves tonight. Whether you get on it or not - that's your choice."

Mycroft turned his back and began putting on his coat. He was most certainly going to need it if he was brave enough to face the bitter cold wind outside.

"Trying to get rid of me already." John chuckled, trying to diffuse the unwanted tension.

"You helped me, John. Through what I can only describe as being the most unbearable time I have ever encountered. I'm not saying that it's going to be painless. But if I can get through my difficulties, then you can get through yours."

John peeked down at the envelope that rested in his hand.

"Italy?"

"Hmm. I presume your sister will be waiting for you at the airport." Mycroft released a smile that was gratefully returned by John.

John needn't ask how Mycroft knew where to find his sister. He felt uneasy about leaving his life behind in London, leaving Sherlock. Everything was blurry, unclear. But that was temporary and John knew deep down that starting afresh, somewhere new, would do him the world of good.

"Mycroft?"

Mycroft's legs froze in place. He turned back to find John making the effort to stand up, tucking the shirt he had worn the previous day back into his trousers.

"Why - I mean, why are you doing this? Why are you helping me?" John questioned, taking a step closer to Mycroft in the process.

"My brother means a great deal to me, John. I'm sure that you're very aware of that. Growing up was difficult to say the least. I had my problems, Sherlock had his. Despite our parents making life as uncomplicated as possible for us, our childhood wasn't exactly normal. We weren't exactly normal. I refuse to go into such detail, but as you can imagine, Sherlock's way of dealing with certain situations, certain feelings, could be extreme to say the least. I've always tried to do right by him, be there for him, shield him from the world. But, there are times when me being there just wasn't enough. I'm afraid of losing him, John. You walking into his life not only saved him, but you saved me too. You managed to accomplish the task I have been trying to do for what feels like a very long time. For that alone, I am eternally grateful. You're a good man, John. That I do believe."

John nodded his head as a sign of appreciation for all that Mycroft had done for him. Despite not having the ending he'd hoped for with Sherlock, he'd still made a friend during his time back at London. A good friend.

John entered the kitchen and scanned through nearly every cupboard before he found what he was looking for. He ran the tap for a few seconds before pouring himself a glass of ice cold water and taking a tablet for his ongoing headache.

Only the pain he felt wasn't in his head at all.

"You haven't touched your tea, Sherlock." Mrs Hudson tried to keep busy in the flat, organising the mess before reorganising it, just so that she had an excuse to stay close to Sherlock if he needed her.

Sherlock sat curled up in John's chair, his arms wrapped around his knees forming the smallest shape humanly possible. Despite Mrs Hudson's presence, he couldn't help but feel the loneliness smothering his every breath. He hadn't changed, he'd barely moved. Something that concerned Mrs Hudson but was yet to surprise her.

"Sherlock, please talk to me." She voiced, crouching down so that she was at perfect eye height with Sherlock.

Reassuringly, she placed her hand on top of his, comfortingly rubbing her thumb back and forth as she offered him a warm smile. Sherlock remained silent but carefully placed his hand over Mrs Hudson's as a small sign of appreciation. Mrs Hudson knew better than anyone the torture of watching and waiting for Sherlock to leave his thoughts alone. Waiting for him to stop torturing himself. As painful as it was, the only thing she could do was be there for him.