A Life Changing High 5
Sherlock stumbled onto the roof of Mycroft's extremely large garage. The helipad sitting directly in front of him, begging him to do something stupid. In his weakened and dazed state Sherlock stumbled (and fell a few times) towards the Helicopter. He sort of pulled himself inside and took a long look at the controls, it wasn't hard to tell which did what and what order to press they worked. With a turn of the key and a switch of a few buttons he was off.
Mycroft heard a noise, sort of like a helicopter lifting off from his bedroom. Curious to see what was going on he slipped out from under the covers and padded towards the window. To his utter surprise the noise was just A helicopter taking flight but HIS helicopter taking to the air. His younger (and obviously high) little brother at the controls. Mycroft cursed under his breath before taking to the phone.
"Hello? Who may I connect you with" The operator asked.
"My old friend Gregory Lestrade"
Alarms blared. Something had gone wrong. Sherlock tried his best to keep the helicopter in the air, but he couldn't keep it up for forever. The blades cut out and Sherlock and the helicopter began to fall towards the ground. Sherlock closed his eyes, there was a loud crashed into the tress. There was a violent jerk that sent Sherlock flying throughout the windshield, at least 70 feet to the ground.
Greg didn't have a hard time finding where Mycroft's brother crashed the helicopter. Smoke lingered in a large cloud above the site. Greg rushed from his car to the ground a few feet away from the tree the Helicopter was tangled in. "SHERLOCK!" He yelled. He couldn't see into the vehicle, the smoke was too heavy. He dashed back to his car and grabbed a flash light from the glove box. When he returned to the crash he shined the light through the smoke, Sherlock wasn't in the copter.
Mycroft picked up as soon as the phone began to ring. "Did you find him!" He asked frantically.
Greg hesitated, "No, I'm sorry Mycroft." He sighed.
Mycroft felt the warmth leave his body and small tears welled. "Where are you?" He asked Gregory.
"You track my phone, you know where I am." Greg said, not actually sure where he was.
"You're right," Mycroft sighed, "I'm on my way" He said hanging up. He grabbed his coat and headed for the door.
The darkness was nice. Peaceful. Sherlock drifted in a sort of absent state. His eyes closed, oblivious to the pain in his left shoulder. He didn't know that a high could survive for this long, but he was glad it had. Nothing was better than this. He enjoyed this, for the first time in his life, he was truly happy. Pain. All of the sudden pain washed over him, his vision going red. Was he dying? Had he seen the end? The whole world shook and his eyes flew open. "Sherlock?" Came a voice from above.
Greg tried his best to stop the bleeding. Ripping off parts of his new shirt and tying them around various different wounds on Mycroft's younger brother. He knew Sherlock wasn't going to last long; he had to get to a hospital. He carefully placed his arms under Sherlock and lifted. Sherlock grunted. "I'm sorry, but I have got to get you out of here." Greg whispered. He was out of breath quickly. "GREGORY!" He heard Mycroft's strong voice yell. "OVER HERE!" He yelled back sighing a sigh of relief.
Mycroft caught Gregory just before he clasped under Sherlock's weight. He never thought he would be this happy to see his brother in his life. But to see him breathing and almost in one piece was the only thing Mycroft could wish for. He carried the limp Sherlock to the car and laid him across the back seat before going back to help his friend. It wasn't long before Mycroft drove off towards the hospital, tires squealing.
Greg gripped tightly to the edges of his seat. He had been in multiple high speed chases but Mycroft was driving like a Formula 1 driver. Though he took the corners carefully, trying not to disturb Sherlock's injuries. They reached Saint Barts in record time and Greg rushed in to get help.
Mycroft waited anxiously for his brother to get out of surgery. Greg waited with him, comforting him. Mycroft was glad he had such a good friend. He didn't have many; it was hard to trust people when you played the role he did. He laid his head back, letting it rest on the cold wall behind him. He closed his eyes, he was so tired. He needed at least 5 minutes of sleep.
Greg watched Mycroft sleep. It was relaxing, watching his chest rise and fall softly. He wondered if Mycroft would ever realize just how much he meant to him. He shook the thought out of his head; it wasn't the time or place. He had to stay focused so when Sherlock came out of surgery he could help.
It was nearly 3 am by the time Sherlock was out of surgery. He had no clue where he was or what had happened. All he knew was that there was an intense pain from his left shoulder. He guessed he had broken it but he wasn't really sure. He was a bit dazed. The meds he had been given kept the pain at bay for the most part. He was afraid to open his eyes. He didn't want to face the consequences of whatever he did this time. He figured it was his stupidest stunt yet. His past highs had landed him in trouble with the cops and Mycroft but never had he actually ended up in the hospital. Usually when he OD'd Mycroft had him treated at his large estate. More than likely afraid of what the public would think. This was more than an overdose. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. Finally he built up the nerve and opened his eyes.
The sound of Sherlock's baritone voice pulled Mycroft from his slumber. "My… My, Where am I?" His brother asked his words slurring due to the meds.
Mycroft pushed himself up from his seat, and almost feel back down. Head rush. He closed his eyes and let the world stop spinning before continuing over to his brother's bedside. "Sherlock, it's okay. You're at Saint Barts. You broke your shoulder and gashed your leg pretty bad, but you will recover." He explained softly brushing a strand of Sherlock's curly black hair from his face. He really needed a haircut.
"Wha- What happened? What did I do?" Sherlock asked sounding a bit panicked.
Mycroft took a deep breath. "You stole my helicopter Sherlock, and then crashed it into a tree." He sighed.
Sherlock's eyes widened. He cursed heavily under his breath. Then Mycroft felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned his head quickly and found Greg had returned from wherever he had been off to. "Sherlock, I would like you to meet Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade" He said introducing the 2. "He saved your life last night."
Greg felt humbled. He didn't save Sherlock's life, did he? He hoped that Sherlock wouldn't have died if he hadn't got there. Now looking down at him, he realized the beauty of the man. His high cheekbones and light green grey eyes that reminded him of the ocean. He was almost as appealing to Greg as Mycroft. "Hello, Mr. Holmes." He nodded politely.
Sherlock blinked taking in the information. "Nice to meet you," He said trying his best to smile, "If only it was under different circumstances."
"Yes, well I fear your brother was trying to keep us from meeting." Greg chuckled.
Sherlock tilted his head, "What do you mean by that?" He asked a bit confused.
"Nothing, Mycroft knows that you are a smart man, smart enough to solve any crime. I believe he fears that if you begin to work with me he will lose you." Greg said sounding quite smart.
Mycroft felt his face get hot; he sharply elbowed Greg in the side. He had his reasons, and Greg had got them wrong. "Worry not my dear brother. You two have met at last." He said with a half-smile.
"So we have. And you said crime and work. Is that an offer Gregory?" Sherlock asked with a bit of hope.
It can be whatever you want it to be. Lestrade quickly removed that thought from his head. "I believe it is." He smirked.
Mycroft rolled his eyes. "I will be back to check on you later, but I have a country to run." He sighed and pulled Greg out of the room quickly. Down the hall and into an empty corridor.
"Mycroft, what is it?" Greg demanded.
Mycroft pulled Gregory into a kiss. Hot, passionate, and a bit desperate. His fingers tangling themselves in Greg's grey hair. Hold the heated embrace for as long as possible. He pulled back, the two men breathless, and speechless.
"Mycroft, what was that for?" Greg asked confused.
"You had my reasoning very wrong Gregory, I wasn't keeping Sherlock away from you, I was keeping you away from Sherlock. I know how tempting he can be, and I wanted you all to myself." Mycroft confessed blushing heavily.
"Mycroft Homes you selfish bastard!" Greg yelled kissing Mycroft once more before leaving him standing alone in a darkened corridor.