Never is a Long Time
Mycroft takes care of a doped up Sherlock and brings him home. BROTHERLY LOVE 3
Mycroft tapped his pen against the desk, and looked out the window. The meeting had been dragging on for an hour past due. He was suddenly very annoyed; these people make everything so complicated.
"liste can we round this up, I have somewhere to be straight away," he gave Anthea a side long glance. She typed into her mobile.
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Mycroft's car was waiting for him as he exited the club. He got in and told his driver the address.
"Wait for me here," he went into the dingy building, bodies sprawled about on the floor. Sherlock was in a corner, shirtless an jeans ripped.
"NOW!" Sherlock looked up with the prepared needle in his hand. Mycroft looked ready to murder him. Sherlock said nothing, just followed him out, no shoes and all.
"I…"
"William Sherlock Scott Holmes, I WILL KILL YOU!" Sherlock rolled his eyes and shut up.
They drove back to the club in silence. Mycroft typing into his phone to find the guys who gave his brother the drugs and have them dealt with. They made their way up to his office, Sherlock dragging behind, and wondering what was going to happen to him.
"There's tea in the cupboard, my robe is in the bathroom, and Anthea will bring you lunch," Mycroft sat at his desk looking over data.
"I'm trapped in the Diogenes Club, God help me!" Mycroft ignored the kicking od his chair to the ground.
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Sherlock ducked under the water, the heat feeling good on his cold skin. He held his breath as the heat took him in, the warmth felt good on his exposed veins. He got up when Mycroft came in.
"You have meeting at seven," he reminded hi elder brother, Mycroft knelt down on the floor, picked up the pitcher by the tube, running it over Sherlock's neck.
"I also have a family emergency, sweetheart," he began to soap up Sherlock's curls.
"Mummy?"
"No, not mummy.. You," slowly but as always Sherlock fell into a deep sleep.
"There's my Sherlock," he whispered lovingly. Out cold by now, Mycroft turned on the solar panels in the floor, and slipped his robe around Sherlock.
"We need to get you to a sweet shop brother dear," he laid Sherlock on the sofa in his private office and dressed him in new pj's he got delivered from Anthea. Knowing it was unlikely he would move again, the British Government returned to his paperwork and watched his baby brother sleep.
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"My…" came the raspy reply from his baby brother. Mycroft put his pen down, and ran to his brother, enveloping Sherlock in his arms.
"Am I in trouble?" tears threatened to escape his eyes. Mycroft slowly shook his head, running a thumb over Sherlock's cheek.
"No sweetheart, no…" Mycroft whispered, running his free hand over Sherlock's curls.
"I love you, baba," Mycroft looked at the ceiling, tears coming to his own eyes. They pricked the corners, hot and stung.
"How I used to say, brother when I was little," Sherlock remembered, staring at the elder grinning mischievously.
"Come on then, home now.." he grabbed his coat and draped it over Sherlock's shoulders, then gently gathered the sickly form into his arms again, stepping into the elevator. Sherlock was far too thin. His car was waiting with the heat turned up. Sherlock's head was perched on his shoulder asleep. Busy day for little brother.