A/N: This chapter is dedicated to all those who have followed and favourited this story. Special mention to CA Hawkins, whose comment made me start writing for this work again.
"I have stood by and witnessed many of your strange quirks, Sherlock, but I will not allow this to continue. Mycroft is your brother, he's older than you and he isn't immortal. You could seriously harm him. You're already causing scarring." John sighed, looking up at his flatmate.
"What do you suggest then, Doctor?" Sherlock asked from his armchair.
"Medication, therapy or more cases. Maybe you could throw yourself into a cold case? It would give you adrenaline." John suggested as he sat down opposite Sherlock.
"Cold cases are so tedious." Sherlock groaned.
"You need to do something, Sherlock. Go to the morgue and get some body parts. Your experiments usually keep you occupied." John replied with a sigh, "Just leave Mycroft alone for a while, okay?"
"Take Sherlock out of my schedule, Anthea." Mycroft told his assistant once he was back in his office.
"Yes, Sir. Shall I book meetings for the time slots or keep them free?" Anthea asked.
"Keep them free for now." Mycroft replied, "Sherlock will probably need my assistance despite the cancellation of our appointments."
"Yes, Sir." Anthea replied, not commenting as her boss poured himself a glass of whiskey.
Mycroft sat down at his desk, placing the glass down carefully. He glanced down at the paperwork that was waiting for his signature, but he couldn't concentrate. His thoughts constantly wandered back to his brother. He couldn't stand the thought of Sherlock returning to drugs after so many years of being clean.
"Bored!" Sherlock shouted, throwing kitchen knives like darts into the living room wall.
"Sherlock!" Mrs Hudson exclaimed, wincing a little as another knife plowed into the wall, "You're going to have to redecorate if you continue at this rate!"
"Did you need something, Mrs Hudson?" Sherlock asked, picking up another knife to throw.
"Oh Sherlock, you need to get out of the house. Isn't there a case you can go on?" Mrs Hudson asked as she carefully dusted the skull on the mantelpiece.
"I'm trying to prove a point to John, Mrs Hudson." Sherlock replied.
"Which is?" Mrs Hudson asked, turning to face him.
"That I need adrenaline or my mind stagnates." Sherlock said, throwing another knife and embedding it into the wall.
"Can you not ask your brother for a case?" Mrs Hudson suggested.
"No! Mycroft is the problem!" Sherlock sneered, "He's caused John to meddle."
"Honestly Sherlock, your brother isn't to blame for everything." Mrs Hudson sighed.
"Yes, he is." Sherlock replied with a frown, "He is to blame for most of the negative memories in my mind palace."