A/N: thanks to my wonderful sister for her excellent beta reading. Any mistakes remain my own.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Sherlock BBC characters, just play with them a bit.

A Lever and a Place to Stand

Sherlock: Love, Faith, and Choice

It took thirty years and Sherlock's intent to retire to the countryside with John for Mycroft to approach him about the situation.

Sherlock had stopped avoiding his brother years ago, once he realized that he didn't have to. As long as he was with John, his brother would mostly avoid the both of them.

"Do you know what he is capable of?"

There was no question who the 'he' in question was. Sherlock didn't bother to suppress his smirk. "Of course. You told me yourself."

"I don't believe I did."

It was more out of habit than genuine pleasure that made him note his brother's glare. He described his findings clinically.

"In everything but words. It was quite the puzzle when I returned after my death. You avoided John. You avoided him more carefully than I ever avoided you. And yet, you made sure that he was aware of every important part of your life. You wanted him to know immediately and with certainty when you met a woman you could love and who could love you. You made sure he was aware of your engagement and was there for your wedding. You don't like him and you want as little to do with him as possible, and yet you have introduced him to every single child and grandchild of yours."

"If all he knew about me came from you, he would have thought me a lonely, unhappy man."

"Likely. But why should you care what he thought? I could think of no reason except the one I didn't know: his magic ability. And even that was a slim clue."

"And what did you find?"

"Reality manipulation. A theoretical magic level somewhat more advanced than miracle working. It was first written about in a minor journal by a theoretical bio-magician, the results of funding from a small government grant that she didn't recall applying to. She thought it was an amusing theoretical exercise but unlikely to ever occur in a viable human fetus."

"Yes, the results were disappointing. I could hardly present her with the evidence."

"Couldn't you have?"

"A power like his is a difficult force to comprehend," Mycroft changed the topic abruptly. John was not someone to fear, and Sherlock found it beyond fascinating that his older brother feared him. "To be unknown to him is even more dangerous than to be known."

"And yet, you want nothing to do with him." It truly was fascinating. How could someone as smart as Mycroft be so apprehensive?

"His ability is literally un-measurable and yet you think I should want to be near him? He has almost certainly changed who you were."

"We are all changed by the people we meet and are close to."

"Not like this."

"You think not?"

"He changed who you were and he could not even make you happy. With all his ability, he didn't even make you happy."

"That says less about his desire for me to be happy, as about your complete lack of respect for any kind of free will."

"That is hardly news. People make such awful choices for themselves."

"Yes, they do. And yet, those are their choices to make. John understands that."

Mycroft looked dubious, but Sherlock knew John. "If he is a god, like you seem to think, then he is one that loves me in the way I want to be loved: he has given me nothing but the opportunity to be great. My choices are my own."

"Has he ever done it again?"

"Would you believe me if I said he hadn't?"

"How could you possibly even know?"

"I asked myself the same question. So I observed. It is a skill of mine, after all. Not as all-perfect as your ability to know, perhaps, but it has served me well."

"And what have you observed?"

"That he has not used his power again… to his knowledge." Sherlock couldn't help a small smirk.

"His knowledge?"

"He sleeps. He dreams. I've experimented and had some extremely surreal experiences. He told me that his dreams are always of real events. I think he had realized that I had deduced it. It was a confession and a warning."

"And of course you didn't leave. Or tell me." Mycroft scowled. "I thought of having him killed the first time I realized."

"Don't you dare," Sherlock hissed. He knew such a threat was long past. If Mycroft were going to have John killed, he would have done so long since and without any forewarning. And yet, Sherlock couldn't let that threat go by. He just couldn't. "Don't. You. Dare."

"No. As it turned out, I didn't dare at all."

"Good."

The two brothers stared at each other and Sherlock wondered, not for the first time, how they could be so different. How could they look at the same thing, see and understand the same thing, and yet judge it so differently? How could Mycroft be afraid and not exhilarated?

In the end, it didn't matter. Because Mycroft would go home to his family and his work and know better than to ever threaten John. And Sherlock would go home to John.

"Good," he repeated. All was good.