By ilovemyboys

Chapter 2: Butterfly effect or just butterflies?

The detective awoke to hearing some muffled voices and a strange ringing in his ears. Opening his eyes he first noticed the arm of the couch he was lying on and slowly brought his hand out to touch it.

So fuzzy...he thought.

Hearing the light tone of voices nearby he slowly turned his head, to see his brother and the butler talking in hushed tones.

"We can't do a hospital. It will only make him worse. Is the doctor coming?"

"Yes sir. It will be here soon-"

"I'm not SICK!" Sherlock shouted to the surprise of both men who turned to look at him.

"Sherlock!" Mycroft hurriedly rushed over to his brother as he bent down in front of him, eyes full of worry.

"Sherlock, what happened?"

The detective was about to answer with some snarky remark before realizing he didn't indeed know the answer.

Deducting as much himself the elder Holmes put a hand against his brother's forehead.

Too warm.

"Dammit" he hissed, standing up.

"Gregory, get me a thermometer at once," Mycroft demanded.

Sherlock noticed the man nodding before running off.

"-lock?...Sherlock?" A voice demanded his attention.

"What?" Sherlock answered groggily as he opened his eyes once again to see his brother bent over at his level.

"Sherlock, what happened? Think," he said.

Slowly closing his eyes, the detective tried to remember. Tried to see what happened...But...only images…

"Sherlock," the voice brought him back as he opened his eyes once more to see his older brother's face swim in and out.

"Mycroft…" Sherlock started in a low voice. "The murder...not a spousal thing...d...dr...drugs…"

"Sherlock are you telling me you got involved with a drug case?" Mycroft hissed in the most controlled voice he could muster. His brother knew to stay far away from those cases!

"I didn't take any..." Sherlock tried to defend himself in his weakest voice possible.

"Oh so it's okay then to get that close?"

The elder Holmes was reaching a point where he would get cross.

Sherlock moaned as he slid his head back down against the cushion.

"Sir, here you are," the butler's voice came across faintly.

"Good. Sherlock open your mouth."

Sherlock barely made an effort before a thermometer was put in.

Everything was going in and out...what was….what was all this…

His head was dizzy now. Any movement made him feel sick.

"100.2. Damn it!" Mycroft's voice echoed in Sherlock's mind.

Even in his current state, Sherlock could feel his brother's eyes on him.

Knock, knock, knock!

"I'll get the door, sir."

"Quickly do so"

Sherlock could hear voices. Are they bad...or good.? Suddenly he felt he had to know. Slowly rolling out of the bed he made his way towards the sounds, feeling his body sway back and forth as he did so while maintaining the level of a headache he now felt.

I need to get away somehow...No...that's wrong...Or is it right? Something's...something's wrong… He thought.

Bump!

Finding he hit something soft, Sherlock looked up to see his brother yet again. As he felt his balance take him back, he was caught by steady hands bringing him back as his cheek landed on a shoulder. His arms were sagging, his legs were about to give out.

"Mycroft…" he mumbled.

"Yes brother?"

"Mycroft you...you don't win this round...I do…" He continued to mumbled incoherently.

"As you say," Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Sherlock, come on, get back on the couch."

"What couch?" Sherlock's response was met with him immediately sliding down his brother's arms before his wrists were grabbed and he felt himself lowered to the carpet

This is nice...I will stay here...he thought.

"Sherlock. Get up," a voice called from the distance. "Come on Sher….or's here..."

Opening his eyes once again, the sleuth was met with a woman in her early 40's. Reddish blonde hair in a bun, hazel eyes, red lipstick, a white coat. Only one possible conclusion. Sherlock opened his eyes wide, staring at nothing.

"A red herring with a blouse! That's not for you….

"Sherlock, pull yourself together," Mycroft testily warned his brother.

"Let me take a look," the doctor spoke

Taking out a light, she shined lights into both eyes of the younger Holmes. Turning the flashlight off she then proceeded to take his temperature, which remained at 102 degree F. After that she felt his pulse and looked him over once more, taking note of the prick in his neck.

"Is he in serious danger?" Mycroft asked seriously.

Sighing the woman turned to Mycroft.

"In all honestly, it could be a multitude of answers. Perhaps a tranquilizer to slow him down, or a drug high in euphoria to keep him at bay from investigating whatever it was he was doing. I'll really need a further blood sample to know for sure what we are dealing with" she said.

"Of course. When?" Mycroft asked hastily.

"Now."

"Good."

The elder Holmes turned to his brother currently sitting on the floor, eyes gazing at nothing.

Taking hold of one of his arms, the elder Holmes pulled up the sleeves of the younger.

"I would like you to hold him. Just in case he moves around suddenly," the doctor asked.

"Yes of course," Mycroft smiled as he gently held down his brother's arm with one hand, and chest with the other, so as not to startle him.

Cleaning his arm, the doctor got her needle ready before giving Mycroft a nod he returned.

In just a few seconds Sherlock's mouth twitched but that was all.

Sighing in relief, Mycroft let go of his brother.

"How long?" he demanded.

"Give me 20 minutes," she said before leaving the room.

In 20 seconds time the elder Holmes looked at his dazed brother who for the most part stopped moving. The normal breaths gave him some relief. At least he wasn't getting worse. Yet.

Soon the doctor arrived to which Mycroft immediately stood up asking, "Well?"

"I have an antidote. He needs to take it right away."

Mycroft nodded as the antidote was administered. And waited.

Once she was done she turned to the eldest Holmes brother.

"The system is still not perfectly out and he will be facing some side effects of the drug."

Mycroft's eyes widened. "Like what?"

"Butterfly!" Sherlock shouted randomly as he sat up, staring at the curtains.

"Hallucinations, lightheadedness, vomiting, you name it. Just keep him calm. He needs to rest."

"Understood. Thank you Doctor."

With a nod the doctor packed her things, leaving Mycroft with some medications that would help the pain.

"Gregory," Mycroft announced in a loud manner, assuming his butler was still nearby.

"Yes sir?" he asked.

"Call Doctor Watson Tell him Sherlock will not be home tonight."

"Yes sir."

"Mycroft…"

"What Sherlock?"

"Why was that lady here?"

"She's a doctor, Sherlock. And was making sure you were kept alive."

"But I am."

Mycroft rubbed his eyes with a sigh.

Bzzz, bzzzz

Picking up his phone he looked over the text.

John: What happened!? Is he alright?

Mycroft: He was drugged. Needs to stay with me.

John: How bad? I can treat him here.

Mycroft: Rest is not something you can control at your house. Which he needs.

John: He won't stay willingly.

Mycroft: He isn't in much of a state to do much about it.

Looking down at his brother who had now fallen asleep, the elder Holmes couldn't help by push a side of his sweaty hair away from the man's forehead.

"Sleep well brother of mine."