A/N: Hi folks, this is my very, very first attempt at fanfiction writing. So I'm sorry if that's all going to be nothing but crap but I hope it's not and I promise I tried my best. This story is inspired by IAmNotOneOfThem's "Take the weight off me" and Q.E.D. 221B's "Both sides now". These stories are both utterly amazing and you should go read them instead of mine if you haven't already done so (perhaps you could come back after finishing… please?)! While waiting impatiently for their continuation, I decided to try it on my own in the meantime, just for my own amusement to start with. Well, to make a long story short, this is obviously plagiarism but I'd prefer to consider it a homage if that's all right with you… ;-)

The rest, you know it already, isn't mine either. It belongs to the geniuses ACD, Steven Moffat and the amazing and beloved Mark Gatiss.

Warnings: See summary! No slash intended, but in fact there is at least a little bit of a growing bromance between our posh British government and the silver fox of Scotland Yard…

Now, there's one last but important thing you must be warned of: In addition to my questionable writing skills, my English is – let me put it like this: improvable… I'm not a native English speaker as you must have noticed by now and I haven't got any experience in writing in English apart from insufficient school lessons ages ago. But I've found a beta reader who supports me not only with her most helpful corrections but also with her encouragement! Kudos and many thanks to the lovely CCVRG! :-)

Apologies for my long ramblings, next time I'll make it short, promise! If you still plan on reading the first chapter despite my preceding "hymn of praise", go ahead!

Cheers and allons-y!

If there's no one beside you
When your soul embarks
Then I'll follow you into the dark

- "I will follow you into the dark" by Death Cab for Cutie -

1. The mask I polish in the evening, by the morning looks like shit

Mycroft flinched when John touched his shoulder.

Usually he could hide his discomfort at being touched, but this time he hadn't seen it coming when John had approached him after the doctor had cleaned the cut on his left cheek.

John looked at him, rather irritated, but didn't say anything. Instead he thought about the whole incident. Half an hour ago, Sherlock had practically dragged his brother into their flat and asked John to take care of his injuries. Mycroft, who wore only a torn shirt, a slightly ripped waistcoat and dirty trousers instead of his usual elegant three piece suit looked worn out and shaken. A heavy bruise and nasty cut adorned his face, but when the doctor tried to address it, he said instantly, "No need for that, John. It's only a minor injury and I can surely handle it myself. I don't know why my dear brother is making such a fuss about it. It's really not in character, is it?" He smiled reassuringly at John to assure him that everything was okay.

But John was a good enough doctor to see from a distance that the cut had to be stitched up, and had wanted to say so, but Sherlock shot his brother a glare and growled, "It's not that I'm that concerned about your health, brother dearest, but I promised Mummy the next time I would find you hurt and unconscious on the floor, I wouldn't leave you there. Again."

While John looked rather shocked at that comment, Mycroft lowered his eyes and said quietly, "It's not that bad this time."

At this he turned to leave but staggered because of the sudden movement and suddenly blacked out. He fainted right in Sherlock's arms who, despite his harsh behaviour, had observed his brother closely so he could catch him just in time.

"Get him over here on the sofa," John said and helped Sherlock in doing so. "Now bring me my bag and some water, please."

He patted Mycroft's unharmed cheek and the politician winced, before he opened his eyes with something in them that John would have called fear, had he not known better who it was in front of him.

As Mycroft recognised John and understood what must have happened, he said, "My apologies. I didn't want to cause you any trouble." He sat himself up carefully.

"Mycroft, you don't have to apologise. You're hurt and I will take care of you. No need to discuss it."

Mycroft nodded, unexpectedly obedient, and whispered, "Thank you."

Meanwhile, Sherlock had returned with John's bag and the demanded bowl of water. He had overheard the rest of the conversation but didn't make a comment, which John was grateful for. It didn't happen very often that Sherlock simply shut up when he should. In fact, usually he kept silent when John wanted him to speak and didn't stop speaking when John mentally begged for it.

John took care of Mycroft's cut, cleaned and disinfected it, stitched the wound up and applied a patch to it. During the whole process Mycroft didn't move or make a sound, but he stiffened visibly under John's touch. John could sense that the slender man didn't like it, but he didn't object either.

Finally John attempted rolling up the right sleeve of his patient's shirt to measure his blood pressure. He expected that the blood pressure was too low but hopefully not to an alarming degree. But he would never know because he couldn't accomplish his task since his counterpart pulled his arm away as soon as he noticed what John was about to do.

"Don't bother. My blood pressure has always been perfectly all right."

"You just fainted, remember? So let me check it," John insisted.

Mycroft shook his head and the stubborn look in his eyes told John that he wouldn't change his mind. The gesture reminded him greatly of Sherlock.

The bruise on the politician's cheek had turned its colour from only a dark red to a mixture of red, purple, and light blue, and John ordered Sherlock to get some ice to lower the swelling.

When he had left the room, Mycroft allowed himself a moment of relief and rested his head with a sigh on the back of the sofa. John stood behind the sofa, packing his instruments back into his bag.

"What actually did happen?" John asked, finishing his task and laying his hand on Mycroft's shoulder from behind. This unexpected touch made Mycroft flinch. He didn't answer.

John thought about this strange reaction but didn't say anything either. When Sherlock returned, John repeated his question. Sherlock reacted with a scowl in his brother's direction. "That's exactly what my dear brother doesn't want to tell me. In his opinion it's none of my business. I found him lying in the backyard of his estate, bloodied and bruised but he doesn't consider it necessary to explain."

The consulting detective frowned.

"By the way, you should examine him further since he clutched his right side when he woke up before he realised I was there."

Mycroft groaned and shook his head. "It's really nothing, not worth the effort."

"That should be my decision, I think," John replied and sat beside his difficult patient, obviously planning to unbutton his shirt. The moment John had sat down, Mycroft leapt up and backed away from the sofa, stumbling and nearly falling again.

"What's the matter?" John asked, astounded. "I don't want to jump you! I just want to examine you. I'm a doctor, you know, that's my job."

Sherlock smirked but didn't say anything. Ignoring John's comment, Mycroft backed further away, trying to regain his composure but had to lean against the wall, needing the support.

"I'm fine, everything's alright. Thank you for your help, Dr Watson. But I don't need any further assistance."

"Oh, so it's Dr Watson again," John retorted. "Then I should now do my duty as such…"

He shot a glance at Sherlock who understood at once. The consulting detective came up to his brother from the right and so blocked the only escape way to the door while his loyal friend and blogger approached the tall man from the other side. The two were a well-rehearsed team while their opponent was hurt and slightly shaky at the moment. The elder Holmes looked like a deer in headlights and it occurred to John that only some hours ago he could have never imagined seeing the otherwise self-confident and sometimes even intimidating man frightened and insecure like that.

Now Sherlock had reached his brother and grabbed his arms to pull them back trying to hold him tight.

Mycroft struggled against him and shouted, "Leave me alone! I don't want this. You have no right…!"

He kicked his younger brother and gave him a blow with his elbow but it was too late. The army doctor came to his flatmate's aid and together they succeeded in pushing Mycroft back on the sofa and while Sherlock held him tight, John unbuttoned his shirt and opened it to reveal a large, painful looking bruise on Mycroft's right side which stretched up to his chest. It wasn't difficult to diagnose at least two broken ribs that must hurt terribly and the doctor pondered for a moment how his patient could have hidden this injury from him.

But he hadn't much time to think about this when his eyes wandered to the back of the still struggling form under him and Sherlock. He gasped as he saw the real reason why Mycroft had absolutely not wanted them to see the upper part of his body naked.

Exposed before their eyes were an amount of angry looking, deep scars that covered the back of the slender man and continued further on under his trouser waistband.

For one last time Mycroft whispered desperately, "It's none of your business…" and then he accepted his fate and went still.

John, who still couldn't think straight, only said in a hushed voice, "Oh my god…" and then looked up at his friend.

He had never seen the consulting detective look so haunted, his eyes not able to turn away from his brother's back. In his mind obviously an explosion of thoughts, facts, memories, deductions and…could it be…feelings took place.

Sherlock's hand touched one of the deepest scars and made Mycroft jerk away violently. Nonetheless Sherlock let his finger travel along the scar until he reached the waistband. He carefully pulled it down a little bit only to reveal a further mess of severe scars.

John gulped and was the first one to speak in a low, horrified tone, "What the hell is this? What fucking bastard did this to you?"