Chapter 2

~seven years later~

Mycroft didn't notice her at first. He was much too furious with Sherlock for ruining his chances with the Senator's daughter.

Completely ignoring the young, female pathologist, who is still gaping at Sherlock lying on her medical table, Mycroft lambasted Sherlock.

"Of all times to relapse onto your drugs, you choose now?!"

Sherlock sat up and glared at him. "Of bloody course, I choose now, Mycroft! What did you think? That I'll allow you to forget it all? That I'll allow you to run away from what you really want?" That I'll allow you leave me?

Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose with a furious sigh. "Miss Hooper, would you please leave me alone with my brother?"

She nodded, gaping at Sherlock still. Mycroft frowned sharply as he noticed that she had a crush forming on his little brother. I wonder if he only likes men, or just me? Could he possibly be bisexual? Would it be possible to distract him away from me? Mycroft pushed those plans aside for further thought at a later time.

He focused on Sherlock, only to place his hands firmly on his little brother's chest, keeping him at arms length when the younger man lunged at him. "I told you, Sherlock, I will never give you another chance to do it again."

Sherlock sneered. "You can't even say the word."

Knowing that he's playing into Sherlock's hands, slightly, Mycroft growled. "You will never have another chance to have sex with me. I was drunk and practically unconscious, my body responding to natural stimuli without even realizing what that stimuli was coming from. Enough of this, Sherlock. Get your act together!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes and relaxed against Mycroft's hands. His own gripping Mycroft's wrists. "I'll stop. I'll go back to working as a ridiculous clerk at the front desk of your offices, if you give me one, small kiss." His voice was deep, smooth. Mycroft closed his eyes and wondered how his brother became this way.

"Sherlock…I will not do something like that to you. You…" He knew how Sherlock would react to this, but he had to say it. "You need someone to help you, Sherlock. Please, let me make an appointment. We can talk to that person together."

Sherlock pushed himself away furiously. "ARGH!" He turned his back on Mycroft. "I've tried, Myc. I really have. I've tried being normal. I just…" He shrugged. "Can't fit into society as well as you can."

"Sherlock, do you have any recollection of how this feeling of yours started?"

Turning, Sherlock looked at him with tears glistening his eyes. "You mean when I first started wanting you inside me?"

Mycroft coughed. "Yes. Something like that."

"I saw you having sex with Lolita Gemson from your school, two grades above you. I remember puzzling over my rage for days until I realized that I was jealous of the bitch."

Mycroft started. "Sherlock…" His eyes were wide. "You were ten?!"

Sherlock sniffled slightly and wrapped his arms around himself. "I started early, Myc." He sniffled again. "I hate this place. It's so cold."

Mycroft sighed and shook his head. "You left your coat in the alley two blocks away." He moved to put it around Sherlock's shoulders, but Sherlock twisted around sharply and grabbed Mycroft's tie, which had been previously unreachable as Mycroft had kept himself at a careful distance.

With barely a glance around, Sherlock fitted his mouth against Mycroft's and gave his brother the filthiest kiss he could. Mycroft grunted and pushed Sherlock away, but only half succeeded. Sherlock, it turned out, was stronger.

Mycroft struggled but only succeeded in slamming them both into the morgue wall. He grunted and hissed out a breath when Sherlock started nibbling his throat.

It did feel good, but that was only stimuli. The overall feeling of pleasure was dampened when Mycroft knew it was his brother giving it to him. "Sherlock! Enough!" He tried to push Sherlock back, tried to pull him off.

There was a shout and then Sherlock stiffened and slumped into Mycroft's stunned arms.

The little pathologist was staring at him wide eyed. "Does he usually get so violent when high?" Her voice was shaky as she disposed of the hypodermic needle. Mycroft gulped some air.

"Y-yes…I thought he would never attack me, his brother…but…it seems I was inaccurate in my assumptions." He pulled his brother up and onto the table again, not wanting him to lay on the floor, no matter what Sherlock tried to do to him.

The woman smiled at him, still shaken, but eager to make an acquaintance. "I'm Dr. Molly Hooper. I actually came in to tell you that the morgue was closing up to visitors in fifteen minutes." She frowned slightly as she looked at Sherlock. "I um…I know it's not my place, but…" She took a breath. "My brother-in-law had some issues with opiates. His wife found a really good place that boasts a success rate of 90%. That's…well, I can give you the name if you'd like."

Mycroft closed his eyes and nodded. "What did you give him?"

"Oh! Well, it was actually a sleep inducing paralysis drug. It's new actually. Not yet on the market. Just recently approved by the MHRA. It's unofficially called the Peace Pill." She shrugged.

He knew of this drug. It was called a wonder drug by many in the medical and science fields. Sherlock himself had been raving about it, calling it brilliant and versatile in its uses. Mycroft looked at her curiously. "Oh? How is it in your hands then?"

Molly Hooper laughed nervously. "I…ah…made it."

He was stunned. Mycroft raised an eyebrow slowly. Molly coughed. "I had the option of going into forensics or pathology…or any medical field actually, but I chose pathology. Not as hectic, and it's quiet." She smiled and then coughed. "Do you…want the name?" She stammered. "Of-of the rehab place?"

"Yes, actually. I would." Mycroft reminded himself to smile at her. "Thank you."

She nodded slowly and then coughed again. "I'll just go to my office for some paper then." She hurried away. Mycroft whipped out his phone and called Anthea.

"I hope you've-" He relaxed slowly. "Good. Thank you, Anthea." He hung up again. Security feed is wiped. No one got a hold of it. Cab. I need to call a cab. I'll have to take Sherlock home with me tonight. Shit. Maybe I can lock him in his room... He groaned and shook his head.

The doors opened again. "How soon until this wears off?"

"Oh…not for another seven hours."

He nodded again. "Any addictions to it?"

"Only psychologically. Habit forming."

Mycroft nodded and then smiled. "I should call a cab now."

Molly smiled hesitantly. "I already have. I didn't know your name, so I put it under mine. I hope you don't mind."

Mycroft was surprised, but only smiled politely. "Not at all. Thank you." He moved to pick up his brother, but Molly made an abortive movement with her hands.

"You don't need to do that!" She hurried to the hall and then came back in with a wheelchair.

He smiled again and nodded his thanks and left the morgue, unsure if he'd see that intriguing woman again.