Surprise Brother!
By ilovemyboys
Chapter 1: Here I Am, Brother Dear
Sherlock slowly dragged himself along the dark, London streets lit only by a few dimly lit lamps. He could see the streets fine but his eyes simply wouldn't catch up with his brain. Or the other way around... Sherlock wasn't sure. But what he was sure of was the consistent feeling of his arms and hands gaining a fuzzy feeling that made them feel weak. As if hanging loosely. His legs too felt like they might buckle at any movement, taking away all control Sherlock had of his body, which radiated small amounts of heat.
As the Holmes son dragged himself along, he felt a bit of heat on his neck.
Just a half hour ago the detective was on the heels of a possible suspect in a homicide case involving a potential secret lover. However, while at the crime scene Sherlock found evidence detailing something else was amiss. While the women murdered had signs of a struggle and choke marks around her skin, she also had a puncture on her neck. Long story short, he tracked the man in question down and after a lengthy chase cornered him in an alleyway.
"Freeze! You're under arrest," Sherlock warned as he blocked the only way out.
The man only laughed.
"What's so funny? Being jailed up for the rest of your life isn't good enough?"
"Mr. Holmes…" the man spoke slowly with a dirty grin, crooked yellow teeth and all.
"How do you know my name?" Sherlock asked slowly.
"I make it my business to know anyone who's on my case. Such as yourself," he answered.
"Good. Then you also know there is no escape for you."
"I doubt that," the man gave a sly smile.
"Oh I sincerely think so-ah!" Sherlock's cheeky response was interrupted by a headlock from behind by an unknown assailant as he struggled around the large arms holding him in place as the man in question walked slowly up to his face.
"I don't like private investigators. Or detectives for that matter...Always snooping in my business…" the man breathed on the detective.
"Well Mr. Holmes...I know how much you love to be a part of murders...So this time I'll let you feel it up and personal…" The man smiled before Sherlock suddenly felt an all too familiar needle on the side of his neck before it was gone.
In only moments he could feel the effects of the drug taking place inside him. Although he had built up a resilience to most basic recreational drugs, this one was different. Stronger…
As the world around him seemed to turn, his clarity got hazy. Something was...off…
Attempting to shake it away, Sherlock shook his head, slightly surprised he now had the movement to do so. Struggling, he managed to open his eyes to see both men gone. Attempting to get to a standing position, he staggered toward a nearby wall as he leaned up against it. Breathing quickly, he knew in what coherent part of his mind was left that he needed to get help. And soon.
And so here he was, racking his mind palace for all relevant data concerning his present condition. Oh an ambulance could come, if he could even dial the number with his trembling hands, but no. Definitely not that.
Looking around, his mind highlighted every sign he saw. Getting a better idea of his location led him to only one option.
… ….. …..
A staggering man in a long, black coat made his way toward a large estate, tripping over yard decorations along the way through the grass before making his way onto the marble pillared porch.
Sherlock's glassy eyes stared the large, wooden door that slowly moved in and out as if made of jello.
"Oh quiet you!" He yelled.
Lifting up an arm as if it was made of lead, he slowly brought his hands together to form a fist before...
Bang!...Bang!...Bang!….
Seeing that the door did not open for him right away, he knelt forward, his elbow pressed against it as it held his weight while his other hand kept knocking.
"Answer, answer...she said...text me...pretty woman…" he slurred, his head dropping down.
"I sing a SONG of great proportions-wha!" The younger Holme's weight fell forward as the door was flung open, his feet barely catching his fall as he landed on the red carpet of the hallway.
"Sir! What is the meaning of this!?"
Looking up slowly, the image of what appeared to be a rather fat man with a black suit, partially blended with smoothed-backed hair, a crooked nose, and narrowed eyes looked him down as he blurred in and out of focus.
"Faaaat eyes…." Sherlock fumbled.
"I beg your pardon, sir-"
"Gregory! What's going on?" An all too familiar voice called angrily from a nearby door now flung open.
"Sir, I'm sorry but-"
"Brother!" Sherlock shouted upon seeing the older Holmes over the shoulder of the man.
Mycroft's irritated face immediately turned into one of shock. Then concern. Sherlock was here?
Something was wrong. He could see it all over his brother's body. His glassy eyes, wavering body, sweaty forehead, not to mention coming here willingly.
"Sherlock…"he said slowly. "What happened?" The elder Holmes demanded as he stared into his brother's eyes.
"Well I…." Sherlock began, but before he could say anything more, felt the world around him slowly turn sideways followed by a thud and his brother's shocked face and mouth shouting something he couldn't hear over the buzzing in his ears. And then...nothing.