CHAPTER FOUR

Mycroft entered his room late one evening, tired and ready for bed. He flipped on the lights briefly, intending to make sure his things were ready for class in the morning when he realized he wasn't alone.

"Turn them off."

He paused, surprised he had an unexpected visitor.

"The lights – off."

He did as he was told, recognizing his younger brother's voice, and walked through the darkness toward his bed where Sherlock had made himself comfortable.

"You aren't supposed to be here."

"Well I'm here anyway."

"Why? What brings you... so far from home?" Sherlock knew he wasn't supposed to be here, and Mycroft doubted their parents knew he had come here despite the time it would have taken him to travel.

"I need a favour."

A favour? His little brother hardly talked to him anymore, much less ask for anything.

Christmas had been terrible. Sherlock had been moody, interspersed with violent outbursts, and it was painfully obvious he wasn't even getting along with his parents particularly well. He hardly ever joined them for meals, and mum was understandably concerned. It ended with her sending him up to surreptitiously check Sherlock's room for any thing 'inappropriate' and to hopefully get a better idea what the young adolescent spent so much time alone in his room doing.

Mycroft was appalled at the state of his room, but the only thing Sherlock seemed in danger of was rotting his teeth with the vast amount of soda he was consuming. Finally, Sherlock had ushered him out, proclaiming his desire to never see him again.

So how did he end up here?

"I need to stay with you for a couple weeks."

"You're not even supposed to be here." He flipped the lights back on. "What did you-" he stopped mid sentence, taking in his brother's state.

"You're high," he stated flatly.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "A little. Now can you please turn the damned lights off, they're giving me a headache."

"Are you trying to get me kicked out right before I graduate? You aren't supposed to be here. You certainly shouldn't be high. And no. I won't let you mope around here while you finish binging on whatever it is you're on, then go home to out parents and pretend everything is fine!"

"They know."

"They what?" Mycroft was getting uncharacteristically flustered. Mildly amusing under normal circumstances, but in this instance just added too many words to the conversation.

"They caught me coming in one night while they were supposed to be away. I was high, they were upset. Now they think I'm a junkie and need to go to rehab."

"Perhaps they're right."

"I'm not an addict, and I'm not going to rehab. That's why I need to stay with you."

"So we can lie to them together? Sounds like a grand plan. Go to rehab, get clean, and move past this. What could even drive you to this in the first place?"

"I was bored. Really, Mycroft, you can't tell me you didn't see this coming. People fill their minds with so much useless information, their conversations so pointless. I can't go on pretending to be interested when I can work out what they are going to say long before they ever say it. I need something to occupy my mind, to help me focus, and help my body keep up with my brain.

"Caffeine helps, but it takes a lot. When I can get my hands on it, cocaine helps more. It eliminates the boredom and helps me concentrate. It's as simple as that."

"So you think self-medicating with illegal drugs is the answer?"

"It's worked so far."

"I'm not getting kicked out for a junkie. I know I've covered for you before, and I probably shouldn't have, but at least then it wasn't anything illegal. You've let it get out of hand."

"I'm not a junkie. I don't even take coke that often. I'm just bored. Rehab isn't going to fix that."

"Is that what you told mother?"

"Not exactly."

"You told her you were going to rehab, didn't you? Knowing full well that you never intended to go," Mycroft supplied.

"I'm not going. If you don't want me, I'll find somewhere else to stay."

"You're only fifteen, Sherlock, where are you going to go?"

The younger man shrugged. "Wherever I have to."

Mycroft sighed, resting his forehead in the palm of his hand. "Fine. You can stay. But no drugs, and stay out of sight. No one else needs to know you're here."