He lets out a weary sigh when John Watson's ID flashes on his phone. While he has no doubt this is about his wayward little brother, the voice at the other end of the line isn't the one he's expecting.
"Mycroft Holmes?"
"Mrs Watson. What a pleasant surprise," he lies with practiced ease.
"My husband's been shot, they're rushing him to casualty."
"Well, I'm sorry to hear that," he says, and there's a touch of sincerity to his tone. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
"It's your brother. I think he's in shock or something. He didn't let the paramedics check on him, they've no idea where he is right now."
Mycroft pauses, and even he has to acknowledge that's very considerate of Mary to inform him.
"I'll deal with him. Thank you for calling."
xxx
An hour later he's dragging Sherlock into his flat, Mrs Hudson rambling around in the most ineffective of ways. In the end Mycroft manages to soothe the landlady, hauls his brother upstairs where he slumps into the sofa.
"One would think you should be smarter than that," he quips dryly, but Sherlock is far too gone to argue.
"It's my fault," the younger man murmurs, his speech slurred by either alcohol or drugs. "I miscalculated the situation, I didn't consider that the suspect might have another gun on him."
Alcohol, not drugs – Mycroft decides, heaving a sigh of relief. Baby brother, what am I supposed to do with you?
"John's going to be fine. And he won't be pleased if you manage to kill yourself in the meantime."
His brother laughs mirthlessly, a sound that never fails to tear Mycroft's heart. "It's easy for you, isn't it? You just don't care either way."
"Fine then. Shall I give you a shot of morphine, or would you rather have cocaine instead?"
"I hate you," Sherlock throws viciously. "I really do."
"No, you don't. Stop being childish."
He listens to each breath his brother takes until sleep gets the better of him at last. Only then he lets Mrs Hudson take his place, retrieves the phone to give instructions to his PA.
If only his little brother would stop using in order to get other people's attention, he thinks wistfully as he taps his umbrella all the way down the stairs.