Gah bad Ally bad bad bad. This is not good writing! But you NEEDED to finish it-my apologies I'm talking to myself.
Sherlock shut his eyes and prayed he was hearing things. He dropped the blunt and stamped it under his shoe, then turned slowly on his heels to face the only other person out on the streets at such a late hour.
Mycroft scowled at his little brother. "What on earth are you doing here? With … her?" He said 'her' as if it had a fowl taste to it.
Oh great. This was just what Sherlock was afraid of—his brother had caught him. What could he possibly say? What kind of lie could explain why he was standing outside an expensive hotel with his forbidden best friend smoking? There was no getting out of this one.
"I've been with Nancy all day," he lied, at least cutting out some of the long list of things he would be getting in trouble for back at home. "We lost track of time. Just about to split a cab home. Care to join us?"
Mycroft's eyebrows were so close together they nearly touched. Sherlock had never seen him so angry.
"No need to get all fired up," Nancy said, placing her hand on his shoulder. "It's my fault, I swear. I talked him into coming here. I'll just leave now—it's for the best."
"For one I have to agree with you," Mycroft said, glaring as she smiled sympathetically at Sherlock and walked away down the dimly lit streets.
Once she was gone, Sherlock lost most of his motivation to keep up his act. Mycroft wasn't going to fall for it; they both knew. "Mycroft, I—"
"Don't," Mycroft hissed. Sherlock wouldn't meet his brother's eyes. "Of all the …! Do you know what it's like to get a call in from one of the undercover officers that my own brother was seen leaving a bar with suspicious company?"
"I'm sorry. I didn't realize there were offic—"
"Exactly! You didn't," Mycroft continued. "Which is what I find so unbelievable! Normally you'd notice right away if their were police around. So what was different this time then? Were you already high or did that come later?"
For awhile, Sherlock said nothing. The sound of cars buzzing by was the only noise. Then, after he had had time to think of what he could possibly say to make things better, he opened his mouth.
"No," Mycroft stopped him before the words were even out of his mouth. "Don't say anything. Don't you dare."
Sherlock remained silent with his head down as his brother lifted his hand. He deserved it anyway.
But then, something unexpected happened. Mycroft lowered his arm and let it drop by his side. "What's the point?" he muttered, then began to walk off down the road. Sherlock hurried after him. When they reached the street corner, Mycroft held out his arm for a taxi. After a few seconds, a cab pulled up to the curb. Sherlock climbed in after his brother, with no protest from either person.
After driving in silence for nearly a minute, Sherlock couldn't take it anymore. "Mycroft I know you know why I do it. My mind it just … It makes things too hard. I can't act normally or treat people the way I should. Everyone looks at me like I'm some kind of sideshow freak. I need that feeling of detachment sometimes. Please understand …"
"I understand perfectly fine," the older brother promised, his voice in steady monotone. He was done getting angry. Done reacting to Sherlock's games. "I understand that you clearly have no care whatsoever for the people who love you."
Sherlock was confused. "What do you mean?"
"You go out and you do these things and you don't stop and think about how it might affect anyone else! Mother and Father are always worried sick about you, as am I! You're an emotional wreck Sherlock! And on top of that now you're a junkie and a prostitute!"
The cab stopped suddenly, causing the brothers to jerk forward. They were at a stop light two streets from their home now.
"I didn't think of it that way," Sherlock said quietly.
"You never do! Because you can't!"
"You're right I can't! I wish I could but I can't Mycroft! And that's why I do it—because I don't understand! Why can't I feel like other people do?! Why can't I love or be happy?! What's wrong with me?" He hadn't meant to shout. But Mycroft knew just how to get under his skin … He huffed and turned away from his older brother, not wanting to argue anymore but not willing to apologize.
"I won't tell Mum this time. But if I ever catch you doing that again I'l—"
"Thank you."
—The End—
