*HOSTAGE*

by: WhiteGloves

*Bows* ;o

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4.5: Worst for the World (EPILOGUE)

John tapped his fingers on the table with Greg Lestrade opposite him holding a folder on his hand.

"Beppo was killed in action fifteen minutes after escaping 221B residence, the pearl on his hand was lost in the sewers, it was never found. Apparently he had made off with the Pearl of the Borgia's from the Venucci family for years until Sherlock Holmes retrieved it from him in what he calls a 'inevitable fold of events'. The Black Pearl had been missing for decades from the Borgia's family in Italy which was then found in Venucci family and got stolen by their maid who Beppo was courting at that time. Nobody knew about this fellow, Beppo until Sherlock, mind you. Not even the secret service. After that many people have tried robbing it from our guy but he was always one step ahead of them. He gets somewhat mental whenever he feels threatened every time folks about him find he has the pearl. It appears like he's really got something going on that makes looters suspicious. In total there has been seven murders under Beppo, four knifed, two shot to death and one found under a bridge with a bashed forehead that was accounted to this guy. It's been suspected all along that all seven have been murdered for trying to get the Pearl of the Borgia's."

"Eight." John Watson said with a sigh after he listened to Greg Lestrade's narration as they were cooped up in one of room for interrogation in the Scotland Yard Head Quarters three days after the hostage taking at 221B. Everything was already top news and headlines with the name Sherlock Holmes and the Pearl of the Borgia's ringing worldwide. "Eight murders."

"Well, we could have gotten more if he didn't get his hands on that grenade." Lestrade closed the file folder on his hand and placed it on the table between them. "Thank god at least… well." He looked at the doctor after a pause. "How's Sherlock getting on?"

John looked up pointedly at the Detective Inspector with his heavy eyes.

"Sherlock… you know him… he's been saying if Beppo survived he would've tracked him down to the end of the world and who knows what he would have done. I mean, he beat the crap of the American guy who attacked Mrs. Hudson. It could have been gruesome with Mycroft involved. You know whatever Sherlock says about him, he's still his only brother."

"Yeah, well Beppo was gunning for exactly that."

"Yeah? Lucky for him he didn't live long enough to meet Sherlock Holmes again after what he did. How did Sherlock get the pearl from him anyway?"

"I asked him that. He said he disguised himself in a pub where most of the retired sailors were staying in the North and had been on Beppo for some time. They had an argument over beer and then a squabble ensued by Sherlock. He nicked the pearl while nobody was looking and busy with fist fights."

"That's stealing isn't it?"

"I don't hear Beppo complaining, don't I?"

John took a deep breath and sighed on his chair.

"He's still hung over it. I rarely see him so pissed over a dead guy. Even Moriarty wasn't spared that much hatred."

"Even Sherlock can hold a grudge too. So what's he doing about it?"

"What else? Annoy his brother to the grave."

Mrs. Hudson was there beside him. Sherlock could hear her talking from far distant.

"I never really thought highly of him, you know? I first saw him after the court case with my ex-husband. You see, he was there outside the court standing all alone by a statue, I nearly thought he was one. He is a much disciplined gentleman. He was much younger but there was an air about him that made me single him out in the crowd. How did I know you were brothers? Well, after you came out of the court hall you walked right up to him and you two argued like any normal brothers would do. You were asking him what he was doing there and he wasn't very nice in responding either. And I thought to myself they must be very close. Then I recognized him some years later when he popped up just about my door and told me his younger brother was planning to rent my flat and told me to watch over everything that was gonna happen. I know about his presence, Sherlock dear. He did pay me too—to tell him everything happening to you and I told him right there that you just made an advance payment in the rent and everything you will break in the future but no I won't tell him a single thing. Because that's not how older brothers should behave you know? He should go right up there in the flat and ask you how you are doing. He keeps paying me anyways."

Sherlock chuckled. "Whatever do you do with the money?"

She looked at him. "How do you think I managed to make our walls very thick so your bullet won't go through? Anyways he also paid me for the last two years that you pretended to be dead that was why I never touched your things. I remember deciding to sell some of your belongings but he sent a short message telling me to leave everything. So see, he is a very thoughtful person after all. It's just hard to see it about him because he is never trying."

"Were you angry with him?"

"I was—many times, but it's just like with you dear, you don't feel it but sometimes you do make me angry. You and your brother. I am angry. Oh, especially when it was about John, you remember? I never did forget how he did not knock up on that door to check on you after Mary died and then he came popping again when you were already hospitalized just to know what's in your mind. It was very rude. I did call him 'reptile' just to get through him but I didn't think it effective."

"He never talked about it."

"Not effective?"

"No."

"So then I never rooted for him every time he visited and never give him tea. He just seemed pretty cold. But all of that had changed."

"After this incident?"

"Right after this incident. Well, they do say you realize the importance of a person when they're gone."

Sherlock looked far away into the distant sky. "I'm yet to find out."

Mrs. Hudson gave a tiny sob and touched Sherlock's arm.

"Well, dear, I'll be leaving you now with him… I left the flower. You'll tell him I visited?"

Sherlock nodded and the two of them looked back inside that quiet hospital room where they were both standing by the window, into the occupied bed where an arranged flower was set nearby, to that sleeping form of one Mycroft Holmes.

Sherlock watched his brother breathe and nodded.

"I'll tell him."

"I'll come around again, hopefully I catch him awake. It's been three days."

Sherlock smiled at her and watched her go till she closed the door shut. She has been very warm and very supportive, just like her to be always around. But then the smile on his face disappeared as he turned a look at his older brother who was exactly the opposite of warm.

"She's gone. You can wake up now." The consulting detective threw himself on the nearest chair and put both hands together. "Why are you like this? She's been coming around for three days and you never come and face her. Aren't you too old to be shy?"

Mycroft Holmes opened his eyes quietly and sighed.

"Good god, I can hear you both. Imagine how she would be if I am already actually listening to her?"

"She's beguiled, Mycroft. You did save her."

"I'd save anyone under that circumstance."

"She's showing her appreciation. And you can't keep pretending you're asleep for long."

"Watch me."Mycroft slowly sat up, winced a little for his right side was still numb after the operation and shot a look at his brother. "Tell her I received her compliments, but the next time she returns I won't be around. I'll be back on my feet and working."

"Which means tomorrow?"

"Which means later this evening."

Sherlock cocked his head on one side with a deep frown on his face but the concerned expression immediately disappeared as Mycroft raised an eyebrow at him.

"We're not going to be dramatic over this, are we?"

"I don't dream of it."

"Well then, I won't be hearing any protests—everything is okay, I'm a picture of good health and you got your new upholstery. I believe you also got your hands on the Pearl of the Borgia's again? I heard the detective inspector talking to you about it the other day and you disappeared on that chair for two hours—the only hours I didn't see you hovering around me."

"I threw it on the ocean." Sherlock replied. "Looks like its bloody history about is true. I don't want to tempt fate again."

Mycroft looked at him disapprovingly. "It wouldn't hurt to drop it outside the National Museum—"

"I threw it away." Sherlock said simply. "It's just a pearl. No point losing life over it."

"Very nearly did."

"Yep."

There was a ringing silence. Both brothers had a taste of that.

Then Mycroft gave a soft sigh. "Well, with this man, Beppo dead that makes eight people toll on its account? Not including its history before it reached the Borgia's of course, and the fact that family members in the Borgia family also had their fair share of blood bath."

"It nearly became nine." Sherlock's eyes were pointed to which Mycroft merely shrugged.

"It didn't." There was a curt tone at that. "Now what do you say we save all other sentiments for later, brothermine? I don't think we're dying any time soon, are we?"

Sherlock didn't respond and Mycroft turned to him just in time to see his younger brother surveying him thoughtfully that made him sit straight.

"William Sherlock Scott Holmes." He said testily, "It's been three days. God knows it's been three days. You've been looking at me like that for three days."

"Days like these make people really think. We've had our share of death threats, brother dear. Nothing as real as this." Sherlock reflected upon the blood on his flat floor and even though Mrs. Hudson did a great job cleaning it, the detective could still remember its fresh mark that got him thinking. "I can't help but think—"

But Mycroft has had enough.

"Then don't. Thinking in our experience is by far by choice. If you don't mind it, it won't matter. Now get a hold of yourself before you get all sentimental again about your dear brother. Heavens knows we had enough to deal with. We're just going to get on and on with this that in the end we'll get the same rounding result— we're both alive and will face bad days. And in case we didn't survive—"

Sherlock gave him a dark look and the older Holmes had to press his lips for awhile before saying it anyways—

"That's something we have to work on our own. But let it be known: what happened here is a reminder that we're not expendable to one another. I understand, brothermine, so you don't need to give me gloomy looks like I will fade away if you turn away for a second. So please, go shred your new upholstery. And do keep your landlady. She might want to apply as my housekeeper if this goes on."

"Be nice to her. She's the type that never forgets."

"Oh I know precisely that so why do you think I'm pretending to sleep?"

But Sherlock, fresh from the experience of nearly losing that person couldn't be swayed.

"What will happen if one of us does die? Take it as a curiosity, Mycroft."

The sudden question from the ever inquisitive little bother caught Mycroft off guard. Sherlock gave him a serious look—one which Mycroft won't be able to run from—like what he had been doing previously. Because Sherlock does want to know.

Mycroft did take it seriously as he surveyed his brother in turn.

"You have to figure that on your own. Because I sure am not going to be the latter one to go."

"Who knows—?"

"Not going to happen, Sherlock. And you've never had bad days on my watch. You do, however, only have few favors left. Do not waste one by irking someone who's got eight stitches on his belly."

Sherlock pressed a smile and was finally able to understand that no matter what he did, there was no way to turn his brother to be as emphatic as him just because of one bullet. Easy for Mycroft to disregard it all but Sherlock knew it was something in him that wasn't developed on sudden turn of events. He's had it all along. What a curse to bear.

So why not use it to its potential like any wise man would?

"I do have bad days, Mycroft. I had the worst just recently." He had to look down the floor at that while Mycroft stared at him. "On top of losing Piero that is, the pearl… and other circumstances. Losing a brother."

He was delighted to see his brother squirm uncomfortably on his bed and knew he had found a new nerve to touch every time Mycroft annoys him. Now he really believes people who tells him he was the only weakness of the British Government Head. Oh Mycroft. What a curse to bear.

He looked up smiling in spite of himself and saw that Mycroft had understood. Just like Mycroft to be able to follow his train of thoughts. His smile broadened.

"Oh, brothermine, if you're going to be like that then I wouldn't consider this episode truly the worst for the world."

Mycroft raised an eyebrow.

"In fact—not at all."

~The End~

A/N: Did you enjoy it as much as I did?

^_^ glad to be of service to Mycroft-Sherlock-brotherly fan ^_^

Till next time!

-Thank you for reading!-