A/N: Well this took forever to write, but I find it lengthy enough to post. It may seem a bit slow at the moment, but it should pick up soon. Enjoy. Bye!

The Blood In My Veins

CHAPTER TWO

The first time Mycroft Holmes meets John Watson, his brother is the unwilling participant of a crash cart. It was a beginning, to what, he didn't know.

Mycroft Holmes cursed when he got the call. His brother, the brilliant, young impulsive brat had gotten himself into trouble. Again.

He glanced out the window, the streets were almost devoid of life, except for a passing street light and the odd shadow of a homeless person. His brother had the mind of a scientist or a philosopher and he decided to ruin it with narcotics! Mummy would be disappointed, more disappointed than him dropping out of University of Cambridge, even more disappointed than his side hobby of being an amateur detective.

He should call her, inform her. He didn't want to break her heart, but that didn't mean he wouldn't metaphorically rip Sherlock 'a new one.'

The rhythmic sound of cellphone keys filled the silence as the car lumbered on. St Bartholomew (St Barts) loomed ahead, lit up like a candle. The Emergency doors flashing a bright red, so it was understandable that when his car pulled up, he exited, along with his assistant and simply stood in front of those doors. Those doors were ominous. The beat of the rain seemed to match the beat of his heart and with a sigh he stepped forward beneath the hanging, folded his umbrella, tapped it against the concrete, he squared his shoulders and marched through those doors like the government official he was - all flat expression and rigid posture, hiding the worry for his little brother.

He wished he hadn't stepped through. The scene that greeted him was chaos and his brother was at the center of it - like he always was. The closest Mycroft could ever come to explain what exactly his brother was in the most scientific way that wouldn't utterly insult him would be Chaos Theory. Sherlock Holmes was pure Chaos Theory - that little blip that changes the environment around him, shoving everything out of whack and making something else from its remains. Much like the butterfly on the other side of the world flapping its fragile wings while simultaneously creating a hurricane somewhere else. Edward Lorenz's Butterfly Effect was a good example.

But this wasn't science. This scene before him was pure humanity in all its raging emotional value and he felt it curling around his heart. He remembered why he always hidden his emotions, much like all the men in the Holmes family. Being human sucked as they would say.

Nurses scurried and Mycroft had eyes only for the man that seemed utterly calm in the ruckus and Mycroft shivered from it and he really didn't understand why. But he watched hard blue eyes, firm lips, and blonde hair battle for his little brothers life. He watched as the crash cart was wheeled in and the shouts of orders were a flash of white noise beneath the irregular beep of Sherlock's heart as it stilled into that steady daunting line of death.

Everything seemed to be on standstill, the world paused, and then it speed up again and everything hit him at once as the light beep...beep...beep of the heart monitor showed life...

"Excuse me, sir?" came the a small voice. He turned towards the nurse - a tall, leggy brunette with wide eyes and a charming smile. "Can we help you?"

"Yes, I was informed my brother was here - clearly he is." He said gesturing towards the cluster before him with his umbrella.


John sighed resting his weight on his left leg. His eyes watched as the nurses crowded around him and hooked the young man up to watch his vitals for the next few hours.

'Now where did I leave that cane?' he thought, moving out of the nurses way. His eyes moving quickly, they paused momentarily on the tall, posh looking fellow with an umbrella before moving away. He found it resting against one of the many cots that made up the ER, behind thin sheet walls. With a relief, he rested most of his weight on it; the tension he could feel gather, dissipated slightly, but a shadow in the background of his thoughts.

"Doctor Watson?" came a voice, he looked over and gave a tired, yet welcoming smile towards the tall nurse. "There's a man here who knows our patient. His brother" He glanced towards the tall fellow as she gestured towards him.

"Thank you, Jenna." He whispered. The man was tall and looked nothing like the man he claimed to be his brother - red hair and a somewhat round waist. John had a feeling he wouldn't be going home for a while, yet. With a wistful sigh, he gripped the handle of his cane and walked towards the official looking man. Had to be government - he's seen plenty in his time in the Military, they all had this air about them.

"Doctor John Watson," he said holding out his hand, "I'm to understand that the young man that was just brought in, is your brother?"

"Mycroft Holmes," Mycroft said as he took the shorter doctor's hand. "And yes, Sherlock is, though he would deny it if asked."

"Where you aware of his habits?"

"My brother has many habits, Doctor, you'll have to be more specific."

"Where you aware he was on Heroin?" Mycroft raised one eyebrow in surprise, what had his baby brother gotten into this time?

"I knew my brother had taken other pass times, I suppose I was hoping he had just annoyed the London Police or some criminal." John couldn't stop the curiosity from igniting within at the thought of what such a young man did to annoy the Bobbies, much less a criminal.

"He was brought in on an overdose, he flat-lined shortly after. We got him stabilized." John said. "He was lucky." John knew that most heroin overdose patients didn't survive.

"Yes, my brother seems to have a lot of that." Mycroft pursed his lips. "Is he allowed visitors?"

"He'll be kept in the ICU ward for now, until were absolutely sure his body doesn't fail him again. But I don't see why he shouldn't have visitors. But while you wait, you'll have to sign a couple of forms since he is unable and you are the next of kin."