Here I Am Brother Dear
By ilovemyboys
Chapter 4: Hallucinations? No I don't.
Author's Note: Sorry for this taking so long. I don't write much often anymore but I do want to finish this. Thanks for your support! :)
The younger Holmes had drifted off, he concluded, before suddenly smelling, and in turn almost vomiting, in regards to the scrambled eggs before him.
"Ugh...Take it away…" he groaned, placing a hand upon his head as he laid back against the cushions.
In a few moments he opened his eyes to see the eggs still there. Staring at him...alongside a cup of tea of course.
Deciding tea would at least help with his sickness because, well, it's tea, he took a few sips. Closing his eyes at the comforting drink, he laid back down. However, the instant boredom of doing nothing hit him instantly. Deciding to get up with wobbly no less, he made his way toward the kitchen. Just to see if anyone was around of course. He certainly wasn't hungry.
However, both the kitchen and the living room were vacant. As was Mycroft's office.
Sighing in annoyance at no one to talk to he sat back down upon another couch.
No cases. No violin. No experiments. No dru-no nothing…
The detective's hands began to tap on his knees before he could take it no longer.
"That'sss it."
Getting up the detective made his way toward the front door only to feel a sudden nausea overpower him sending him running straight for the bathroom.
After releasing what contents he had in his stomach the Holmes brother felt a fuzzy feeling on his neck and slowly slid down the wall, lying down peacefully on the cold floor.
"I'll just lie here for a bit…"
….
"Sir?"
No response.
"Mr. Holmes?"
Still no response.
"Mr. Holmes?" the voice asked louder.
"What?" Sherlock spat.
"Sir, are you alright?"
"I'm fffine…"
"Are you sure, sir?"
Oh my bloody hell, why won't he leave me alone…
"Very well sir. Apologies sir."
Wait. Did I just say that out loud? Sherlock frowned.
He didn't know how long it had been. Only that he must have been in and out of sleep. Occasionally he would hear the footsteps of who was obviously a maid based on her gentle footsteps and high heels occasionally stopping before continuing on again. Sherlock heard the voice of a butler as well, complete with a sophisticated British drawl.
This has got to be the worst day of my life…
"Sherlock?"
Not again…
"Sherlock, get off the floor for goodness sake!"
Opening his eyes Sherlock was met with the condescending stare of his older brother standing by the doorway.
"So..you've come back have you?"
"I do live here."
"I didn't think it would be posh enough for you…"
"Go ahead, act like a child," his brother replied.
"I will!" Sherlock shouted. "I will do as I please…" the younger Holmes trailed off.
"Fine. Stay here."
And with that, Mycroft left without a word, leaving Sherlock somewhat surprised. Usually his brother fought him more than that.
He's getting tired...And old…
The black tiles of the floor had a crisscross pattern he observed and each was inside a circle. But then that circle was connected to another one so then which pattern belonged to which circle? Using all his strength to focus his gaze, Sherlock blinked a few times to clear away the blurriness. But it was the shapes that kept circling around him. Like...facts in a case he was solving in his mind palace...But he wasn't there. Before he knew it the shapes started to float up above the ground.
"Curious…" Sherlock stared.
The shapes then twisted and turned as the went toward each other, then apart.
Lifting up a hand to touch them, Sherlock was met with nothing.
"How strange...I need a sample...But how…"
Before he could react the shapes began to slowly levitate toward the entrance.
"No, no! Wait!" Sherlock unsteadily got up as he followed them out the door.
Mycroft Holmes was at his desk trying to concentrate on analyzing some classified documents for the SIS before hearing a thump in the hallway floor across from his office.
Closing his eyes, the elder Holmes attempted to ignore the meddlesome thoughts of concern that came into his head concerning his brother. He was perfectly fine. He had been living on his own for years for goodness sake.
Just as those thoughts crossed his mind Sherlock's hand came into view as he slowly pulled himself up into an army crawl moving slowly across the room.
"Sherlock, what are you doing?" Mycroft called with annoyance.
"I need to catch them...Need them for experiment…"
"What?" Mycroft's eyebrows furrowed.
"I need to find it...it's...somewhere…."
"Do as you wish brother," Mycroft sighed going back to his paperwork.
Sherlock looked upon the swirling shapes moving together, than apart in front of him. Reaching out a hand he attempted to grab one only to have his hand move right through it.
Sherlock looked on, confused. Then tried again. And again. Nothing.
Puzzled, the younger Holmes attempted to stand up before seeing black spots around him. Resting a hand on the nearby wall he hung his head, blinking his eyes slowly to clear away the dizziness he felt. He soon felt himself slowly burning up a sweat.
"Thisss isn't good…"
Making his way toward his brother, Sherlock slowly dragged his feet toward the older Holmes as he placed his hand once more upon the archway to the room, eyes begging to close.
Not yet..he thought.
Mycroft, lost in his work, barely noticed his brother in the doorway.
"What is it Sherlock?" he mumbled, eyes still on the papers before him.
"Mycroft...Sherlock spoke in a low voice.
"What?" Mycroft asked again, eyes still on his work.
"I uh...I…."
Sherlock could feel the light-headedness hit him full on. And an even worse headache….
No no no...no not this….
"Sherlock?"
Mycroft looked up at his brother, now with a hint of concern on his face as he looked at Sherlock.
In the next few seconds Sherlock could see the look of concern on his brother's face to one of fear as he rose up from his chair.
Sherlock could barely hear any words his brother said as he felt himself gently guided to the floor as he slide down against the wall.
At one point his brother's face was closer than he expected, his mouth saying words he couldn't distinguish. He must be lying down.
Then Mycroft was gone.
At some point he came back and Sherlock felt a cool rag against his forehead.
That's nice…
But the headache persisted. Getting stronger. The pain in his head went from throbbing to pounding.
"Urrraahh!" Sherlock yelled.
"Sherlock! Sherlock!"
Sherlock could feel his body sweating profusely. His chest rising repeatedly up and down. The heat kept radiating from his body.
This was too much...He...he couldn't take it anymore…
I need to...get out...too much….
Suddenly the pain slowly dimmed down until exhaustion hit him and he closed his eyes.