A/N: Hello lovelies! Sorry it's been a while, I've had a bit of writers block. This will be the final chapter and I hope you have enjoyed this story :) Thank you for the continued support from everyone who has reviewed, favourited, followed and read. I think this chapter is OOC just to warn you. I have a lot more story ideas but if you guys have any requests then let me know!

Reviews would be marvellous :) xx

Mycroft wanted to open his eyes but the lids just felt so heavy and he did not want to return back to the ice cold monster which he was currently encapsulated in; he was safe in his own mind, always had been. However, it was a mixture between joy and fear when Mycroft realised he did not feel as cold anymore. Had he somehow escaped, been found? Or was he finally succumbing to cold and his senses were numbing until he would feel no more.

It was with great burden that Mycroft finally found the strength to slowly prise his eyes open and study his surroundings. He was surprised to find them quite bare, yet he was not inside the freezer anymore. Instead he just appeared to be surrounded by shades of darkness – blacks and greys – except for the little figure which was huddled in the corner. Mycroft would recognise that sulking mop of curls anywhere.

"What's the matter?" he asked, momentarily startled by the rasp of his own voice.

Sherlock – the same eight year old version he had envisioned before - got up and trudged over to his brother's side before plonking down and folding his arms in a huff.

"You aren't playing properly" the young boy complained.

"What do you mean?" Mycroft asked. He tried to sit up right but it was like he was suddenly made of lead and his body was telling him to stay down.

"You said it was like a game of hide and seek, and I found you" Sherlock said seriously "but you're not still supposed to be asleep! Did you get bored of waiting? I wasn't that long. Didn't you trust me to find you?"

"No, of course I trust you" Mycroft said sincerely "but how can I be asleep if I'm talking to you?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Idiot, I'm not eight years old anymore, am I?"

"Ah, I see" Mycroft said as he rather embarrassedly realised his own stupid mistake.

"So I'm still waiting for you to wake up" Sherlock said "and you know how much I hate waiting"

"Apologies" Mycroft said despite himself, although he knew it would do nothing to aid the situation.

"Don't apologise!" Sherlock exclaimed. "Just do something about it"

"I want to" Mycroft gasped, pained by the sudden crack in his voice he looked away to hide the humiliation "but I don't know if I can."

"Well…you can't leave me waiting forever"

Mycroft turned back to his brother to find he had already disappeared and he found himself wishing the boy would come back; he didn't want to be alone in this anymore.

"Alright" Mycroft said to nothingness "Alright, I'm coming" and his eyes closed once more.

John was concerned but not at all surprised when he returned to the hospital that day to find Sherlock still sat by his brother's bedside, looking very deep in thought but like he almost feared if he looked away then Mycroft would slip away once more.

It had been very touch and go for a while. Just as John had suspected, Mycroft had contracted a severe case of hypothermia. He had only learnt about the elder Holmes flat lining in the ambulance from one of the medics – Sherlock had not spoken a word since and John wondered if it had shocked him beyond repair; he'd watch his brother actually die.

Fortunately they were able to bring Mycroft back but still, the elder Holmes had been unconscious for two days now. His core temperature was slowly rising though, which was a very good sign.

"You should sleep, or at least eat something" John tried to reason with his friend, but he should have known by now that telling Sherlock about his body's needs was like talking to a brick wall.

"He's just disappeared" Sherlock finally spoke, his voice hoarse from lack of use. "Moran, he's just…it really was just a game to keep themselves entertained." His fist clenched on his thigh as he tried to bite down the aggression inside him.

"I know" John said "but going out and seeking vengeance is not the important thing right now. Making sure Mycroft is okay is what you need to do."

Sherlock nodded weakly and looked back at his brother's still and very pale form. He knew it was his turn now, to be the protector and source of comfort; no doubt he would be terrible at it, but he knew Mycroft would appreciate it anyway. It had scared Sherlock beyond belief when his brother's heart had stopped beating and he didn't want to accept the fact. Only then had he realised how much Mycroft was a part of his life, and although it annoyed the hell out of him most of the time he didn't want it to end.

"I need to get to work" John informed his friend. "I'll be back later, everything will be fine" he gave Sherlock a weak smile, who in turn gave a nod of acknowledgement.

When he was alone with his brother again, Sherlock reached out and tentatively took hold of Mycroft's still disturbingly cold hand. He himself had awoken many times from drug induced hazes to find his older brother sat holding him and looking worse for wear – now Sherlock finally knew how that felt; the worry.

Sherlock studied their entwined hands for a moment before looking up to his brother's placid face, only to go wide eyed in shock when he realised Mycroft was looking back at him.

"Hello, brother mine" Mycroft said in a low voice and then coughed from the dryness in his throat.

"I…" Sherlock started, and then realising with somewhat horror and humiliation he was still clutching Mycroft's hand pulled back and jumped from his seat. "Just erm…checking your pulse" he stammered "I don't trust those monitor things"

"Yes" was Mycroft's rely as he didn't quite know what else to say.

"The doctor said you would be fine" Sherlock said formally "Although you may feel the chill for a while"

Mycroft nodded before blurting out "I'm sorry"

Sherlock frowned "What for? This is the fault of Moran and Moriarty"

"I know but…" Mycroft sighed and looked down at the bedcovers. "I know you must have been annoyed at being so inconvenienced by me…"

Sherlock scoffed. "Don't be an idiot, I wasn't just going to leave you…" he trailed off, the earlier feeling of embarrassment creeping up again.

"Did…did I…" Mycroft started hesitantly.

"Die?" Sherlock interrupted bluntly "Yes." There was a dangerous edge to his tone.

"I…"

"If you dare say you're sorry again I will not be held responsible for my actions" Sherlock said sternly. "Just…don't ever let anything like this happen to you again. This whole experience has made me feel rather…uncomfortable."

Mycroft gave his brother a faint smile; that was probably as close to words of kindness that he would ever get from Sherlock.

"Don't worry; I intend to never feel that cold ever again."

"Oh, you do realise we live in England?" Sherlock quipped.

The brother's shared a rare laugh together.

Mycroft's recovery was a long process, but once he was released from hospital the relationship he had with his brother went back to normal, well, almost. Moran was still out there and Sherlock had privately requested (commanded) that Anthea make sure Mycroft's security was heightened.

Mycroft went to visit his brother 3 days after he was away from hospital, case file in hand; naturally he could not stay away from work for long. Sherlock was sat at the kitchen table with an experiment when he arrived.

"Morning, brother mine" Mycroft said politely and went to make himself comfortable in John's chair without being asked.

"How's the diet?" Sherlock asked robotically.

"A little off track given recent events" Mycroft replied.

"So…" Sherlock said as he dramatically scraped his chair back across the floor and approached Mycroft. "What extremely tedious…"

He paused when he saw his brother was shaking a little and rubbing his arms slightly with his still gloved hands; clearly he was still feeling the cold.

"I'll make tea first" Sherlock suddenly announced, and then as an after-thought got the fire going before busying himself in the kitchen.

Mycroft allowed a small smile to himself; he really was a very proud big brother.