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It was an ordinary evening. It was overcast outside the window, the sky was covered with dark clouds, it could rain any minute now. It was normal weather for London, but Mycroft wasn't complaining. He wasn't up to it. He was all about work, and as director of the military department, he found his job important but tedious. The man didn't liked to complain and did what he considered necessary for the London military department to flourish. On his desk was a large stack of documents that Mycroft filled out day after day. Apart from business meetings with representatives of different classes, it was his daily routine. Mycroft sighed. How long did it last? For eternity? Mycroft thought so. Three whole years have passed since the disappearance of his younger brother, Sherlock and the lord of the crime, William James Moriarty. During this time, MI6 moved further thanks to William's younger brother, Louis James Moriarty. Mycroft knew that he could be relied on, because it was Louis's duty after all he had done - it was atonement for his sins. Mycroft was glad that he had invited him to this position, but long before that, there was another person next to him, standing along with Louis and William at the same time.
Mycroft knew what he was doing when he appointed Albert to the post of commander of the MI6 branch. From the first days, the man liked in the young aristocrat a noticeable purposefulness and no more than a noticeable cunning, which hooked Mycroft not by chance. Remembering Albert, Mycroft smiled. His work became less boring when he was around. Big emerald eyes that slyly looked out from under his eyelashes, a light smile that never slipped from his lips, light brown smooth hair, refined facial features, a low but sweet calm voice. Albert was perfect, not only in appearance but also in the course of his thoughts. Mycroft liked Albert's mindset, he liked working with him. But... everything ends one day, and Mycroft knew it. The news that Albert is a lord of crime certainly surprised Mycroft, but he didn't show it, but he will never forget how Albert looked when he asked Mycroft to remain silent. Albert was like a fox, and Mycroft was a hunter who went to meet him, making this promise. After that... Mycroft frowned. There was so much going on, and it all came crashing down at one point when Albert refused to be the commander of MI6 and, because of his criminality, asked to be put in jail. Mycroft was as cold as ever, and agreed to this request, and Albert didn't know about the contradictions inside the man's thoughts, and Mycroft was glad that Albert didn't know how much he was attached to him, to his personal reason why the ice in his heart began to thaw. And now... the ice has frozen inside again, and everything has returned to its former course.
But... Mycroft realized one day that it wasn't too late to return everything. He would never have thought that he would use a carrier pigeon. Charlie was a smart bird, and the reason Mycroft and Albert were able to continue communicating. The ice began to thaw again, and Mycroft caught the hope that after three years of Albert's imprisonment they would meet again, and everything would be different. Albert might not want it, but Mycroft would understand him... he just couldn't keep silent about how much he needed Albert, and that he saw in him not just a colleague, but a soulmate. Mycroft didn't had any reasons to talk about it in his letters, which he sends to Albert every day, and he receives answers from Albert exactly the next day. Mycroft looked at the cage. Charlie wasn't there. The pigeon was in the tower where Albert was imprisoned.
Mycroft found it strange that Albert's response was so long delayed. Perhaps Albert was just tired after the whole day of detention. Mycroft visited him personally from time to time, and he saw how the light in his emerald eyes went out, which was no different from the light in the soul, that was fading away. He was greeted every time with a faint smile on his pale face, and his glass eyes seemed to be looking at nothing. Mycroft was in pain, but he didn't show this pain, Albert was in more pain. Mycroft regretted that he had just let him go to prison, to be completely alone for all these three long years. Letters were nothing compared to live communication. Mycroft put down his papers and put his head in his hands. He was too worried about Albert, he didn't like it. The man felt that there was something wrong with this day. Suddenly, the sound of flapping wings and the cooing of a pigeon was heard. Mycroft looked at the sound. Charlie was sitting on his desk, with a letter in his beak. Mycroft's heart skipped a beat.
"Thank you, my friend."
Mycroft took the letter from Charlie's beak, and began to open it, wanting to know the answer from Albert. However, as he read, the smile slipped from his lips, leaving him in a shocked state.
"Dear Mycroft,
Thank you for your support after these long three years. I'm incredibly happy that I have someone I can rely on after what I've been through and what I've done. The weather is terrible today, as is my mood. I hope you have it better than mine, Myc. I'd like to apologize. For everything. Yes, exactly for everything that happened, Myc. I feel guilty for what I did, not only in front of everyone who is dear to me, but also in front of you. Perhaps you had feelings for me that I didn't realize, because I was pursuing my goals. Now, there is nothing left of them, as well as of my hopes that my dear brother William is still alive. I regret that all this started thanks to me. If only I could go with you, remain the commander of MI6, open my feelings to you, because they are mutual, I know, but it's too late, I'm where I should be, and justice should be done, but not over other people, but over me. I am guilty, and I must be punished for it. It should have been done a long time ago. Loneliness is a long death, and a cut of the hand is a quick one. Myc, I'm sorry. I can't do this anymore. I am grateful to you for everything. Thank you, Mycroft.
Yours, Albert James Moriarty."
Mycroft froze, staring at one point. He reread this letter over and over again until he realized that this was really happening to him. Albert was going to kill himself. For him, this life no longer made sense. Mycroft was worried that Albert didn't want to live at least for him or his loved ones. He needed to see him before something terrible happened. Mycroft couldn't let that happen. His life without Albert will be empty. He lost Sherlock, and now Albert wants to go after him. After a while, he was riding in a carriage in the direction of the tower. Mycroft tried not to be nervous, knowing that Albert might not have the will to do this, and that the previous letters still meant something to him. He wanted to shout for the horses to speed up, but didn't, seeing that time flew by unnoticed and they arrived. Mycroft didn't remember how he broke into the prison, and froze, seeing a familiar cell, the door to which was open. There were guards and other people standing around her, obviously doctors and the police. No. Was Mycroft late?
"Mr. Mycroft!" the men visibly tensed, seeing how the face of the director of the military department of London darkened.
"Where is he?" the man approached the Albert's room but didn't have time to enter it.
"Sir... accept my condolences... but... we couldn't save him..." said one of the guards. "I was on duty near the other cells, and I did not hear the glass that was brought to him with food break. He cut a vein in his left arm, I heard him moaning in pain and when I ran here, he was already lying dead. Death came from shock and bleeding."
The man stood and looked at the corpse lying there in the cell. Albert wasn't breathing, his eyes were glazed and open, the remnants of tears were flowing out of them, he was lying in blood, in which his hair and clothes were stained. Mycroft didn't hear. Or rather, he didn't want to take these words into his head. It couldn't have happened. Although, who Mycroft could be deceiving. He was blind and naive when he thought that Albert was allright. These walls drove him crazy, and all that was left of Albert was a corpse, covered in his own blood. For Mycroft, the world has stopped. He screamed.
. . .
"Mycroft... Mycroft…"
Mycroft shuddered and opened his eyes. He didn't immediately understand where he was, but judging by the fact that a fire in lamp was burning nearby and someone was gently shaking him, he was at home, in bed. The man turned and was stunned. Albert was laying beside him, his Albert, alive and free. His hair, which had grown noticeably, was shaggy after sleeping, but even so he looked beautiful. His emerald eyes were looking at him with concern, and his palms were on Mycroft's shoulders, and these touches were like oxygen that the man breathed.
"What... what happened?" Mycroft asked hoarsely, swallowing.
"I have to ask you that, but I think you had a nightmare from which I pulled you out."Albert whispered and smiled.
Mycroft remembered everything he had dreamed, and it would be better not to remember. He was glad that it was just a dream woven from his thoughts, and in reality everything was fine with him and Albert, they were together, lying in the same bed, and all that they had experienced was left behind. Mycroft touched Albert's cheek, stroking it with his thumb. The aristocrat's head rested on the man's palm, and Mycroft couldn't quite believe that this man had chosen him as his love. He couldn't have been much happier.
"Will you tell me what kind of nightmare you had, Myc?" Albert's eyes sparkled in the light of the burning lamp.
"Oh no, you don't want to know." Mycroft shook his head. "It's not the best thing I'd like to see in my dreams."
"You said my name in your dream, and you said you were sorry about everything."
"I dreamed about the period when you were in prison, and we wrote letters to each other. You... committed suicide, before that you wrote to me that you regret everything, and that you want to do justice to yourself for everything you did... and I couldn't save you."
Albert's face turned frowning, and then sad. His gaze fell down, and his hair covered his face. It wasn't the best period in Albert's life, even though he appreciated Mycroft being around. The man perfectly understood his lover, and seeing the sadness on Albert's face, he still regretted that he hadn't made him stay in MI6. Albert sighed and looked at Mycroft.
"I really wanted to die, I don't argue. However, I'm still here, I'm alive, next to you, my dear. All these three years you have been close to me, and you have become the closest to me."
"I tried to give you hope that all is not lost, not to let you finally fall into despair and depression."
"I appreciate that, Mycroft. I've always appreciated it, and I will, you know. Thanks to you, I found something and someone to live for."
"...I still regret that I didn't stop you from your decision to go to prison."
Albert sighed, and Mycroft only chuckled softly, knowing that this was clearly not what his lover wanted to hear. Suddenly, Mycroft felt a hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at him.
"You don't have to be sorry. It was my decision, and the punishment is well deserved. Yes, I could get depressed and go crazy, or even die. But... would this have happened if it wasn't for you? I'm alive because of you, Myc. You have revived in me the desire to live again, and I know that I am next to someone who deserves this life."
Mycroft covered Albert's hand with his own and smiled.
"My guardian angel." Mycroft kissed the inside of Albert's palm.
"Yours." Albert tilted his head, sincerity sparkling in his eyes.
"Let's go to sleep, tomorrow we will have a new day."
"Just promise not to have nightmares anymore." Albert extinguished the lamp and lay down in the arms of his beloved.
"I'll try. Good night, my love."
"Good night, my dear."
The night was calm again, and the echoes of the past no longer tormented them. For them, the world in which they were together, in love, reigned again.