This is my take on the scene from 'His Last Vow', where Sherlock, John, and Mary are talking in the flat and Sherlock calls the ambulance.

I'm going to tweek as I see fit, and show how under Mycroft's cold facade (as Magnessen stated: Mycroft has a soft spot for Sherlock.) he dearly cares about his baby brother.

Don't own anything... Sadly :( Possibly a twoshot

Mycroft was furious with his little brother. He had just been shot, and now he was running around London.

He was currently on his way to Sherlock's flat, to chastise his brother for being so stupid. However, those feelings were soon traded for worry, when his driver neared his brother's residence.

There was an ambulance out front, and paramedics were rushing inside.

Mycroft didn't let his concern show, as he calmly made his way past Mrs. Hudson, and up the stairs to Sherlock's flat. "Do stop your sniveling." He muttered to the old woman. "That's not going to help anyone."

This only caused the woman to cry more, and the cold man continued his way up the staircase.

He heard his brother arguing with his best friend, as the paramedics were attempting to help him.

'He's always so stubborn.' Mycroft thought, as he caught the end of their conversation.

"She shot you." John said flatly, glancing towards his wife, Mary.

"Mixed messages, I grant you that... Ahhhh!" Sherlock tried to say, but suddenly cried out and withered in pain.

"Sherlock, Sherlock take it easy." John instructed as he guided his friend to the paramedics, who laid him carefully on the floor.

"Sherlock!" Mycroft couldn't help the outburst, as his brother cringed, and moaned in pain.

One of the paramedics placed an oxygen mask over Sherlock's nose and mouth; the other quickly unbuttoned his shirt, and began to examine his chest. The older of the Holmes listened to his brother's shallow breaths, and cringed inwardly at the sight of the blood starting to seep into the bandage.

"Mycroft, what are you doing here?" John asked, as he quickly walked over to the older Holmes brother; trying to distract him from the scene at hand.

"I came to check on my brother." Mycroft whispered, keeping his eyes on his little brother.

"Get the stretcher! Bring James with you!" The paramedic managing the oxygen shouted to the other. The man nodded, and ran past Mycroft and down the stairs.

"Sherlock." Mycroft called, quickly walking over and kneeling by his brother's side. "You bloody idiot! Why did you leave the hospital?"

Sherlock's face contorted in pain, and he attempted to get his breath before speaking. "W-what...are y-you doing...here My-Mycroft?" He managed.

"I was here to escort you back to the hospital for proper care; before the East Wind came to get you." Mycroft scolded lightly, as two paramedics came up the stairwell with a gunnery in hand.

"Please move sir." The paramedic kneeling with Sherlock said, as the other two set the stretcher beside the younger Holmes.

John took Mycroft out of the way, as the paramedics lifted Sherlock onto the stretcher.

Sherlock cried out in pain from the movement.

"Call ahead to the hospital." A paramedic said to James. "White male, approximately 1.8 meters tall with a bullet wound to the middle right abdomen; partially healed, but some of the stitching's torn loose." He nodded, as the other two rolled the gunnery to the doorway, and began the descent down the stairs.

Mycroft nodded to the Watson's, and quickly strode out the door and after his little brother.

He watched, as the paramedics loaded Sherlock into the ambulance and immediately began doing what they could for him.

The elder Holmes briskly walked to his car, as the paramedics drove away. "Follow that ambulance." Mycroft instructed the driver.

As the car began to move, he pulled out his phone, and dialed a number quickly.

"Hello, Mikey?" Came the voice of an old woman from the other end of the phone.

"Mother, how many times must I tell you; you named me Mycroft." He said, annoyed that she liked to do that.

"What's wrong?" She asked, ignoring the comment. "Is it Sherlock, did something happen?!"

"Yes mother, as you know, he's been shot." Mycroft said bluntly. "Then he ran away from the hospital, to finish a case; and now he's being rushed to St. Mary's with internal bleeding and an erratic pulse."

"Oh my poor baby!" Mrs. Holmes gasped as she started to cry. "We'll be there in a few hours."

Mycroft hung up the phone, and tried to clear his mind. This, however, was proving difficult. Images of his brother lying on the floor, and crying out in pain played over and over in his mind.

'Sherlock is going to be fine.' He told himself.

'But you're still worried.'

'No I'm not.'

'Yes you are. You were afraid, when you saw the ambulance by his flat.'

'...'

'Exactly, just admit that you're worried for your brother.'

"I am not." Mycroft said aloud.

"Sir." Mycroft looked up to the driver. "We've arrived."

He nodded, and got out; walking briskly to the entrance of the trauma unit.

"Can I help you sir?" Mycroft looked up, and saw the receptionist looking his way.

"Yes, there was a man brought in here recently; Sherlock Holmes." He inquired.

"I'm sorry sir, but we can't release that information." She told him.

"That is my brother, I wish to know where he is. Please." Mycroft said in a threatening, but calm tone. "I can have you fired from this job faster than you can say: God save the Queen."

"He was just taken back into the triage moments ago. I believe that Dr. Wellings is seeing him." The receptionist muttered, frightened by his intimidating look.

"Thank you." He muttered, walking through a set of doors, and into the triage.

Mycroft followed the surging hospital staff until he came upon the berth where his little brother was.

"Sherlock!" He exclaimed, making his way past the nurses, and to Sherlock's side.

Sherlock looked miserable. His ivory skin looked paler than was normal, his eyes squeezed shut, and his breathing fast and shallow.

"Who are you?" Mycroft looked up, and saw a doctor standing on the other side of his little brother. "Are you a relative?"

"I'm his elder brother." Mycroft said calmly. The doctor nodded, and then went back to looking over the younger Holmes.

"M-Mycroft, what are you d-doing..."

"I'm here to insure that you don't run off again, little brother." Mycroft said, cutting Sherlock off. "That, and mother would be so disappointed if you died."

"Ca-can't have that... c-can we." Sherlock gritted between his teeth.

"Surely not." Mycroft muttered.

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to wait here." Dr. Wellings said suddenly, catching the eldest Holmes attention. "We've go to get him to surgery."