#do. do you reckon he regrets his hesitance SO much when he realises how lonely Rui's been

[ace-and-the-rpg-horrors]

the most relatable PJSK side character is Hibiki Miyake because if i was in the same class as Rui Kamishiro, i too would secretly admire his skills and badly want to talk to him but be too social disaster to and then need my two friends watching from a distance for emotional support when i finally scrape up the courage to invite him into our friend group

[malereader-inserts]

Brother

Fandom: BBC Sherlock Pairing: Sherlock & Brother!Reader & Mycroft Summary: In reality, you were always the better brother, but in a cruel way, it never seems to be recognised. Word Count: 2,685 Request: Hello beautiful soul! May I request another Holmes!Brother fic? Either a new one or a sequel to the mute brother one? Thanks, lovely!  Warning: Injury, mention of depression and mention of suicide. A/n: I love a good brothers fic, inspired by the song brother by Kodaline, suffer.

Sherlock and Mycroft have never shown each other love, care or affection towards each other. In fact, you may have mistaken them for actually despising each other, but that’s not true. They care about each other, so much so that you often forget that you were their brother as well.

But, you were a famous Holmes, nothing could keep you from trouble. You were the one that always makes sacrifices, the two elder brothers of yours rarely notice. See, you had a massive age gap between you and Mycroft, and a smaller age gap between you and Sherlock. You were the youngest, merely twenty-seven years old while Sherlock was living seven years ahead and fourteen with Mycroft.

There were days you longed when you were younger again, when you played pirates or kings and queens, with daring sword fights as if you had ruled the world and there wasn’t a worry or a doubt in life. You wished to relive that life, a life with no regrets as you smoked behind your parents back.

Back then, there was hardly any competition. 

But, Mycroft got successful, working with the British Government whilst Sherlock is the world’s greatest consulting detective. You, well your brothers didn’t know what you do, often times you would travel. You worked as a spy agent, often times a hacker, and you made sure Mycroft didn’t know about your work.

Despite being able to deduce everyone, your brothers couldn’t figure out what you did for a living.

Somehow you end up in getting in Sherlock’s business, when he was getting gunned down he could count on you to appear and cover him, getting him out safely and allowing him to get the killer. It was the little things.

Yet, notwithstanding being the less favourable brother, you would die for them in an instant. They don’t know how many times you have gotten into situations that you had experienced a lot of your blood, gunshots and stab wounds. 

You had their backs as if the world was ending.

“New tattoo?” John questions as you had popped into Sherlock’s apartment to say hi.

“Oh, yeah,” You shrugged at Sherlock gives you a side eye, you smiled at Sherlock grimace, “I’ll be out of your hair in a minute Sherlock, Myc told me to deliver this to you before I fly out to Morocco.”

“Leave it by the table.”

The dull tone of Sherlock made you sigh, dropping the papers on the table. Nodding to John before heading to the door, tugging your jacket into a comfortable fit.

“Love you,” Sherlock calls out, you wanted scoff because you knew he was saying that to spite you.

“Love you too Sherlock,” You responded, looking over your shoulder, “That’s the truth.”

You had your own life, you had things to do, things to achieve, you were trying to get more education because you were getting bored of your somewhat boring life. You didn’t even know what life had for you, only gods know if you were going to die young, but you had hoped that maybe five years, or even twenty years you’d come back as brothers. 

When you were young, children, and you didn’t see that Mycroft and Sherlock had preferred each other than to you.

John seemed to know you had felt, for he is the most human. He knows what human emotions were, and seeing a Holmes feeling so much was a great surprise, despite that, he enjoyed sitting outside a coffee shop with a styrofoam cup of coffee, watching people get on with their lives.

“I don’t want to sound offensive or rude, but you have a lot a faith in your brothers.”

You sigh, shrugging your shoulders, your fingers tapping on the metal table, “I’d like to think that if I were dying on my knees, they would be the one to rescue me.”

“Yeah?” John questioned, straightening, “Well, I know your medical history, when will you tell them that you’ve almost died multiple times because of them? Sometimes I often wonder if you’re-”

“I’m not depressed, John,” You interrupted as you gazed over you tattoo and over to your brother’s best friend, “I know what depression is, well, at least, a vague idea of what it is. But, I know I don’t have it.”

“So, what? You’re going to continue to sacrifice yourself?”

“I’d give my lungs if they were drowning, my eyes if they went blind, my kidney, my liver, my brains, my heart if I have to, John,” You expressed, looking fatigue in the eyes as John watched a lonely Holmes craving the attention and affection of his brothers, “I-”

You had hesitated, John tilted his head, “What is it?”

You looked directly into his eyes, “I’m not suicidal, but if a car came while I was crossing the street I don’t think I’d move and if someone held a gun to my head I wouldn’t exactly beg for my life, in fact, I’d laugh and tell them to go for it.” You stopped before shaking your head, “I’m not suicidal but if I had the chance to die without killing myself I’d probably take it.” 

So, here you were, fully rock bottom with your brothers. Hitting trouble waters as Sherlock held a gun in his hands, your sister, that you had found out about since you were shielded so badly, teased him to shoot you, Mycroft or John.

You watched Sherlock looked at his options, Mycroft being a smartarse he likes to think that Sherlock would pick him over John because Mycroft knows how much John means to Sherlock. But, whilst Mycroft’s snide comment go unheard, Sherlock looks at you.

You stood opposite him, tugging on the sleeves of your jacket. John realised what Sherlock was thinking as he turns to look at you, the conversation days before had replayed in his head as Sherlock lifted the gun to aim at you.

“I wish I could tell you I’m surprised,” You started, flattening your jacket as Mycroft sends Sherlock a worried look because this is not how your life was supposed to go.

“Sherlock,” Mycroft warned, “We had a pact, we-”

“I was always the less favourable brother, you just don’t want to admit it.” 

Sherlock’s hand gripped the handgun tighter as Mycroft winced, this was not how you were supposed to think of them like that, Sherlock was holding back, you could tell.

“Just you know, I wish things were different, I would have given the world to you I’m sorry for expecting too much. There were days I would have made sure I kept you warm and safe regardless of being the youngest. I wished we were different, we’d be carrying each other until our dying days.”

You chuckled softly, a look of relief had washed over you as Sherlock narrowed his eyes at you. Mycroft thinking ways of trying to solve this situation as John looked defeated.

“Aim for the heart, will you? I think my face is too pretty to be damaged,” You chuckled, earning a soft smile from Sherlock, “Go for it.”

Slowly shutting your eyes, you heard a shot in the echo metal room and an unbearable pain ripping into you. And for once, you feel like you didn’t do enough to protect your brothers.

“Sherlock-”

“I’m sorry,” Sherlock spoke, quietly, he was with his brother alone. 

Waiting for the force to be reckoned with they called their parents and had explained the situation about Eurus. But, Sherlock had let down his walls as he leans against the door, looking helpless at his older brother.

“It’s not your fault, Sherlock,” Mycroft uncharacteristically soothes, “Eurus would have killed (Y/n) the moment she had separated us.”

“He was our brother, we were to protect him not the other way round, how blind have we become?” Sherlock asked frustrated, “We made a pact to keep him safe but all we did was push him away as if that was the way forward, we don’t even know what he does for a living or what his favourite colour is.”

“Not like you would care, Sherlock.” Mycroft pointed out the obvious, “What are we going say to our parents?”

“Say that we failed him, this time we should just accept what we’ve done. We pushed Eurus away, and look what happened when we refused to accept what happened-” Sherlock was interrupted as Mrs Holmes and Mr Holmes storms into the office.

“Alive? For all these years?” Mrs Holmes exclaimed.

Mycroft sits behind his desk and his father is sitting on a chair on the other side while Mrs Holmes stands at the other end of the desk staring in shock at her oldest son.  Her younger son is standing at the far end of the room leaning against the walls near the office doors with his arms folded and his head lowered.

“How is that even possible?!”

“What Uncle Rudy began … “ Mycroft hesitates slightly, his eyes lowered “… I thought it best to continue.”

But, the mother of four was not taking any excuses as she seethes down at Mycroft, “I’m not asking how you did it, idiot boy, I’m asking how could you?”

“I was trying to be kind.” He raises his eyes to hers at the end of his sentence.

“Kind?!” She gasped in pain breath, “Kind?” She becomes tearful as she continues, “You told us that our daughter was dead.”

“Better that than tell you what she had become.” She stares at him wide-eyed, “I’m sorry.“

His father stands up and leans his hands on the table, “Whatever she became, whatever she is now, Mycroft, she remains our daughter.”

“And my sister.” Mycroft reasoned, ignoring the feeling of a disappointment that he was unable to protect his family.

“Then you should have done better.” Mrs Holmes snapped.

Sherlock couldn’t take the abuse his brother was getting as he muttered quietly, “He did his best.“

“Then he’s very limited.” 

Mycroft looks towards his brother, unable to meet his parents’ eyes. Sherlock locked eyes with Mycroft, unknown to their parents they held heavy hearts as their minds replayed the memory of you getting shot.

“Where is she?” Mr Holmes questioned, trying to calm his angry wife.

“Back in Sherrinford; secure, this time.“ He looks at his father, “People have died, without a doubt, she will kill again if she has the opportunity.  There’s no possibility she’ll ever be able to leave.”

Mr Holmes has straightened up a little but now leans down again and speaks firmly,  “When can we see her?“

Mycroft looks at him, “There’s no point.”

Mrs Holmes was visibly upset, “How dare you say that?”

Mycroft closed his eyes and speaking more firmly, “She won’t talk.  She won’t communicate with anyone in any way, ‘She has passed beyond our view.’“ Still leaning against Mycroft’s office door, Sherlock gazes down at the floor in front of him. Mycroft looking at his mother, “There are no words that can reach her now.“

She turns to look at her other son, “Sherlock.” Sherlock raises his head as Mrs Holmes shrugs questioningly at Sherlock, “Well? You were always the grown-up.” Mycroft raises his head a little and looks towards his brother. “What do we do now?”

“Where’s your brother?” Mr Holmes questions, the question was open to either son, who looked at each other nervously.

Sherlock knitted his eyebrows together, unable to find the right word before the office doors had opened again. The moment Sherlock and Mycroft realised who it was, their face had paled as if they were seeing a ghost. 

You stood there in all your glory, tired and defeated, and in need to sit down as your left arm was in a sling with padding of bandages around the nape of your neck to your collarbone. Your sweater was rolled up toe elbows, seeing the scars of your spy missions as you stared blankly at your parents.

“(Y/n),”

“Don’t you dare think about taking a step towards me,” You seethes at your mother, who was taken aback, “How dare you to think you can spit abuse at my brother like that-”

“Hunny, you don’t understand.”

“I was thinking a lot during my stay in the hospital, #” You hummed, recollecting your thoughts, “You see, Mycroft hasn’t been best with emotions, but he did what he knew best. To protect his family, to protect me.”

Mycroft stood up behind his desk, gazing at you, his lips tugging as he knew you were just as smart, you were able to deduce him.

“I am the son with human emotions, who functions just like any others, if anything were to happen you wouldn’t be able to cope. Mycroft did his best to shield me away from Eurus, to the point that Sherlock had to shoot me to prevent Eurus from having the satisfaction of killing me.”

“Sherlock?” Mr Holmes questioned as Sherlock flickered his eyes at you but back to his bewildered parents and nodded.

“Eurus had plans to murder our brother, I knew she would be frustrated if something had happened to him before she had the chance.”

“I thought you had better aiming, Sherlock,” You snidely commented.

“I was hoping I missed.” 

You locked eyes with Sherlock before faltering away, shaking the inside feeling of wanting their love and affection. You lick your lips, sighed and looked at your parents.

“At the end of the day, Mycroft did what you should have done years ago, she may be your daughter but’s a danger to society. Accept it.”

“Why are you protecting your brothers?” Your mother asked you.

Your gaze looked over her shoulders as Mycroft watched you, shifting the balance between his feet as you looked at Sherlock, riddle with the guilt of shooting you. You settled your cold stare at your parents.

“I would give the world for them,” You started, shrugging as you wince the little pain in your shoulder, “I once told John Watson that “I’d give my lungs if they were drowning, my eyes if they went blind, my kidney, my liver, my brains, my heart if I have to.” It’s because we’re brothers, we do what brothers do best and that’s to have each other’s back.”

The silence had taken over the room as you stared down your parents. Your mother sighed, realising that you had stood your ground and was stuck because there was no way in hell that you would change your mind.

“We will be speaking more of this, but right now I have to-”

Your mother storms out of the office with your father following, leaving the three Holmes brothers alone in the office. You slowly turned to the door, before Mycroft’s voice had stopped you.

“(Y/n),” 

You looked over your shoulders, pausing but not wanting to talk to them.

“I’m- thank you.” Mycroft lets out a thankful smile.

You looked over to Sherlock, who nodded, “We’re happy to see you alive, I know we’re not the best but perhaps if you let us, we can show that we do care for you.”

You paused, looking down at your feet before facing your brothers, a sceptical look planted on your face. You heaved out a sigh, “I wish I could tell you that I believe you, but, everything has changed, brothers. I was a fool and should have known better.”

“Brother-” Mycroft tried to interrupt but you continued as if you hadn’t heard him speak.

“Perhaps we’re better off,” You suggested, a heavy sigh filling the tense air between you and your brothers

“Can’t we fix it?” Mycroft asked, but you let out a soft chuckle, “Fix us at least, (Y/n)?”

“We can be better,” Sherlock added.

You shrugged, “I don’t know, we just don’t fit like we should.”

“Why is that?” Mycroft asked. 

You gave him one last smile before exiting and final goodbye had escaped them until you had disappeared from their sights. But, your last words before disappearing into the real world had struck them.

“Maybe we’re just too late.”

They had failed you and had to learn to accept that.