A/N: Ladies and gentlemen, we have arrived at the end of the journey! Thank you all for your support, especially all the lovely reviews!

I have a new story in the making, titled "Barbarossa," which will contain loads of suspense, adventure, angst, and hurt/comfort, and involve our favorite characters. Okay, advertising time over, go enjoy the story:)

Epilogue

Mycroft spent three days in hospital, and came home almost as good as new. Fortunately for him, the drugs didn't leave any lasting damage. He attempted to go to work straight from the hospital, and was shooed away by a very displeased Anthea, who assured him that she had everything under control, and she would take personal affront if he were to stick his nose into the office for the next two days.

No one with any sort of sense would deliberately offend Anthea, and Mycroft was no exception. On his second day home, while nearly crawling the walls from boredom, he recieved unexpected visitors.

"Mummy?" Mycroft exclaimed disbelieving lyrics at the sight of the older woman. "Dad?"

"Can we come in, Mikey?" his mother asked, smiling warmly.

The third member of their party pushed his way in, shoving Mycroft aside impatiently. "Do be careful with the mud on your shoes," Mycroft called after his brother. "The carpet is freshly washed." Sherlock merely snorted.

Pretty soon, Mummy was bustling about, making tea and setting out the homemade biscuits she had brought along. A dazed Mycroft was admonished to sit down, lest he wear himself out, and complied meekly. "To what do I owe this honor?" he asked dryly.

"Can't I see how my boy is doing, after the ordeal you just had?" Mummy retorted.

"We just want to see that you're alright, Son," Dad spoke up, his voice filled with gentle concern. "We could've- could've lost you."

"Well, I am perfectly fine now, so you may stop fussing," Mycroft said tetchily.

"You do know that it would break our hearts if anything happened to you, don't you?" Mummy said softly.

Mycroft didn't respond, but his heartbroken expression told more than any words.

"Oh, you foolish, foolish boy," Mummy admonished, tears gathering in her eyes. She flung herself at Mycroft, hugging him tightly. "You know we love you, don't you? You are our child, no less than your siblings. Why would you think we would stop caring?"

"I hurt you. You were angry, and you had every right to be," Mycroft whispered, sounding like nothing more than a hurting little boy.

"No matter what you did, Son, you are still ours. If we gave up on our children every time they upset us, we wouldn't be left with anyq, would we? Just look at your brother here," Dad added, trying to lighten the mood.

As everyone turned to look at Sherlock, he very maturely stuck put his tongue.

"You did do your best, didn't you, Mikey? I judged you too harshly. You were indeed limited, by circumstances beyond your control. You carried so many burdens, all alone, for so long. I should have seen it before," Mummy fretted.

"No, don't, Mummy," Mycroft reassured her quickly. "You did your best, too." Then he quickly changed the subject before the wetness in his eyes could spill over.

Sherlock observed the scene with a grin. It had taken him some time, but he had gotten his parents to come around. He had spoken to then more openly than he ever had before. He is just as much your child as Eurus and I are. Do you know he feels like you basically disowned him? Why the unconditional acceptance for us, no matter how far we have strayed (and it's been pretty far sometimes, hasn't it?), and harsh judgement for Mycroft, for a single mistake (big as it was)?

Oh, is it because he has been the perfect child until now? Delivering upon request, perfect grades, perfect manners, always attending to your every need without complaint? Put yourselves in his shoes and cut him some slack for once, won't you? He actually misses you, you know. Come through for him when he needs you, as he has always done to you.

Something about what he said must have been effective, because here they were now. It didn't really matter what, as long as Mycroft had his family back.

Mycroft had Greg, John and Sherlock in his office as they attempted to tie up the Dyson case. Elaine had confessed freely, and had in fact seemed to enjoy showing off her cleverness. The frailty of genius, Mycroft pondered. It often lead to one's downfall.

Elaine had suspected, based on what she had overheard from John, that Sherlock and Mycroft were hot on her trail. She had been making plans to escape and assume a new identity once more. When she heard about the birthday party, she manipulated Molly into hosting it, hoping to find out more information by spying on the brothers, who would be present.

When the scheming woman overheard Mycroft saying that they had a strong lead, she panicked a bit. Trying to create a diversion, she took some of her experimental drug supply and injected it into Mycroft's food. When everyone's attention was on Mycroft, she slipped away. She hoped the affect of the drug would last a while, and distract Sherlock too, while he tried to figure out what his brother was poisoned with.

Fortunately, John had put together the pieces. The details of the case that Sherlock had given him, and the story about her mother that Molly had supplied, plus the incident at the party targeting Mycroft, had clicked together and formed a bigger picture.

"I would like to thank you for helping us solve this case, John. And of course, for your personal assistance during my... medical crisis, which might have helped save my life," Mycroft said.

John smiled. "Yeah, that's what friends are for, right?"

"Mycroft doesn't have friends," Sherlock snickered.

"Well, he does now," John said nonchalantly, waving his hands about to include Greg and Sherlock, along with himself.

The three watched as Mycroft's face turned all shades of confused and bewildered, before looking helplessly at Sherlock, as if begging him for rescue from that ridiculous accusation.

They couldn't help but burst into laughter at the poor man's expense, until the man capitulated and chuckled along.