"I cannot wait any longer Mycroft!" Sherlock shouted. Mycroft looked up momentarily puzzled before he schooled his features back into his usual carefully honed persona of indifference.

"You can wait as long as you have to wait SHERLOCK"

"I should not have let you pick my name for this century." Sherlock replied and huffed as he threw himself down onto the sofa.

"Well, I don't find Mycroft to be much more tolerable, as you very well know"

"I think it suits you." he said as he peeked through his long lashes and watched as Mycroft rolled his eyes.

"He will come in time, you know" Mycroft looked almost sympathetic as he said it, "How do you think I feel? Knowing that my son may or may not be out there at this very moment with no idea as to who I am?"

"Not very good I imagine. Not to mention you didn't leave things with him all that well did you? You were a bit of a dick I must say"

"You're not exactly one to talk about the way you left things are you" Mycroft prodded harshly and deliberately. A stony silence reigned between them and harsh lines settled over Sherlocks features.

"AND YOU ARE NOT THE ONE THAT HAD TO WATCH HIM DIE AND THEN WAIT CENTURIES FOR HIS RETURN ARE YOU? You didn't have to be born over and over again just to live another fruitless lifetime waiting for him!

"How dare you speak to me this way! Do you forget who I am?" Mycroft bit out.

"I remember who you are perfectly well Uther Pendragon." Sherlock raged. "But perhaps you do not. You are no longer my king. This is no longer your world." He gestured wildly. "That's what this is about isn't it? You cannot stand the thought that the only reason you have been brought back is to be of service to fate. That your own son and his servant boy are more important that the great reign of King Uther. That you are nothing but another villainous blight upon history as far as the world is concerned"

Uther looked stricken and realized that he had once again forgotten that Sherlock and Merlin were the same he was speaking to the most powerful sorcerer the world and not "his brother". Uther had gotten quite good at pretending after all. So well, in fact, that he sometimes forgot that he had ever been anyone other than Mycroft Holmes at all.

"You would do well to remember Merlin that until Arthur returns you are of no use to anyone. Allowing you to work on cases to alleviate your boredom is something I can easily take away and how will your bleeding heart help people then? I might not be able to damage you physically for the fate of mankind, but for all intents and purposes I am the British government and I can make this very difficult for you."

"But not as difficult as I could make it for you" Merlin responded, a smug expression lurking on the edges of his lips.

Uther may have let most of his prejudices toward magic fall by the wayside, but the thought of magic still left his stomach in knots. After all when he was born as Mycroft Holmes he had no idea that magic even existed and he had lived as Mycroft Holmes for nearly as long as he had lived as Uther Pendragon. Mycroft was seven years old when he first started having the visions. The first time he had just woken from sleep and for a long time he convinced himself that it was only a memory recovered from a distant dream he had forgotten.

Mycroft was walking through the woods only to happen across a little girl dressed in a long flowing robe. "Catch me if you can!" she shouted and took off through the forest darting in and out of the foliage. Did she want to be friends? Mycroft had never had a real friend before. He was much too smart to be friends with the Neanderthals, he went to school with after all and yet... Something about this little girl made him want to give chase. He found himself running after her not entirely of his own accord, with branches snapping and cracking under his feet. When he stopped running he could see a water and a distant tower of some sort. Where was the girl? There was no where else she could have ran to surely?

But on his second glance he saw the girl standing with her legs in the water, her dress weighed down by her soaked clothing. "He is coming, " she said and though her voice was that of a child it seemed wise. "The one called Emrys will come again, as he has come hundreds of times before. You must help him seek what he has lost. The one called Emrys is born again…. Redeem yourself."

That same year his brother Sherlock was born. When Mummy had asked him what they should name the new baby he had nearly blurted Emrys, but surely a dream was a just a dream after all? There was no reason to play into the delusion that his dream had actually meant anything, only the weak minded would believe such a thing. Instead, Mycroft suggested an equally unique name.

"Sherlock" he answered, "Well" Mummy had said. "I do believe that name is worthy of a Holmes. We shall call him William Sherlock Scott Holmes, a strong name to be sure."

Predictably. Well… predictable if you know Sherlock he thought. Sherlock had refused to answer to the name William at an early age. After all, William could be the name of just about anyone, couldn't it?

"But so many boys at the park are named William! I refuse to have the same name as them!"

"What kind of Pirate would be named William anyways?" and as he got older Do you know how many people named William are born in England every day?"

Uther may not be Uther Pendragon any longer, but he wasn't completely Mycroft Holmes since remembering either. He often felt like Sherlock was his responsibility, after all what kind of brother would he be if he let Sherlock inevitably kill himself in some mad scheme?

But... Well Sherlock wasn't quite Sherlock either was he? His little brother was the greatest sorcerer the world had ever known and his mind constantly interchanged the two names based on the situation.

No matter how angry he was or how much he remembered of his past life he knew that Uther was not who he wanted to be. He had been given another chance and he was not that man anymore. He would be better this time. Better for his son and maybe even better for his "brother". Merlin.