Chapter 4

His head pounced when he got up the next day. He looked at his watch, it was gone 12. Mycroft would be there in about half an hour to take him home. Damn. He jumped out of bed and instantly regretted it. He felt nauseous and sweaty, the lights burned as he stumbled towards the bathroom. There sat on the side was a needle fully prepped. Sherlock had to again wonder how he managed to get back and even prep the syringe, but in this moment he didn't care. He wanted it more than he had wanted anything before and that could only mean that he was meant to have it. He sighed with satisfaction as the drug entered his system for the second time in 24 hours. He then jumped in the shower and by the time Mycroft arrived the drug was hitting it's best stages.

"Sherlock! You're not even packed!" Mycroft glared as he entered the room. Clothes littered the floor and screwed up bits of paper covered the desk.

"Its fine." He grabbed a load of jeans and tops and hoodie and shoved them in a suitcase. "Look I'm ready now."

"That's arguable. Now do it properly."

Sherlock ran around and grabbed everything in sight. He did this with so much energy that was not normally seen in the boy. Mycroft looked at him suspiciously but said nothing. It wasn't until Sherlock fell through the door on the way out that he got quizzical.

"Are you drunk Sherlock?" Mycroft said as the younger Holmes held himself up in the doorway.

"Piss off Mycroft" Sherlock said. He didn't even care if his brother noticed, his brain was too occupied with other things to focus on the here and now.

"I don't think you should be drinking Sherlock, especially with your..."

"I don't want to talk about it Mycroft"

"You don't know how it could affect you. It's serious Sherlock, I think you should go back to the doctors. It's obviously getting worse if you're resorting to these measures."

"I'm fine Mycroft. There's nothing wrong with me. So just leave it."

"Have you even been taking your medication?"

"I SAID LEAVE IT."

The journey back to Oxford was very uncomfortable. The brothers sat in silence on the way home. However it gave Sherlock the perfect opportunity to appreciate the heightened mental stimulation that the drug gave him. His imagination roamed and he was solving equations and chemistry problems in his head. He just wished he had a pen and paper to jot it down. But why? Why not use pen and paper in his head? He could store facts and information in his head. Contain them in separate rooms to organise his thoughts and save ideas like a hard-drive. He used this high of mental ingenuity to construct his mind palace where he can store all the information he would ever need.

By the end of that day he had constructed this palace in his head with significant rooms and layouts in a complex manner. He'd barely spoken to anyone that day and his mind had gone crazy with creation but now the high was wearing off and that was dangerous. He had at least a few hours before the withdrawal sinks in. He had to keep the batches safe. He couldn't waste it all in one go as it'd be difficult to get more until he got back to London. Someone knocked on the door.

"Sherlock honey, come on down and socialise with the family. I won't tell you again." Sherlock heard the soft footsteps of his mother walking down the corridor. He pulled himself slowly off the bed and rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. Stars appeared in his eyes and he pushed himself off the bed ready to join the life he didn't belong in.

The next few days passed in a blur of withdrawal and boring family stuff. He was irritable and paranoid with constant feelings of needing another hit. His family put it down to age and just the way Sherlock was. He crept out a few times a day to smoke, getting disappointed looks from his mother and father in doing so. They were too busy planning their Christmas to be too concerned. They always held a Christmas cocktail party in the family home. It consisted of a long list of relatives and good friends gathering together for an evening of well mannered frivolity. Mycroft loved it as a gain for strong wealthy and powerful contacts. Sherlock hated it. Another hit of cocaine should get him through the evening, that and drink of course.

Sherlock took his next hit of cocaine ten minutes before the party. His feeling of elation returned and he felt he would be able to get through the party. As usual the guests all arrived within the first half an hour and the boys stood at the door welcoming the guests. Sherlock greeted everyone with exuberant energy and chatted constantly to people who he couldn't even remember. Mycroft stood next to him the whole time concerned for his welfare. Soon the party developed and everyone was in the drawing room discussing everything from politics to the latest fashion for Ascot next year. Sherlock fed himself drink after drink before he got to such a point where he had no idea what he was doing or even what he was saying. He started to deduce everyone in the room much to the insult of many as he revealed their secrets in his intoxicated state. Mycroft soon realised the discomfort Sherlock was causing everyone and grabbed him by the arm and pulled him out the room and into the study next door.

"Are you having an episode or something?" Mycroft said concerned.

"No I'm not." Sherlock replied in a sulky tone. Mycroft hit him round the head with a newspaper that had been sat on the desk.

"Then what do you think you're playing at?!"

"I'm just having a bit of fun Myc" He slurred as he fumbled his way to the door. Mycroft was faster however and grabbed the door handle before Sherlock could get out.

"Jesus Christ Sherlock, you're drunk. I can't let Mother and Father see you in this state." Sherlock had been looking at the ground until now until he looked up and rolled his eyes. Mycroft grabbed his chin and pulled his face up to look at him. He dropped his brothers chin and sighed.

"You've got to be kidding me. You're high! I've tried so hard with you Sherlock and this is what you resort to."

"Its helps me. You wouldn't understand."

"No Sherlock doctors help people. Illegal drugs make things worse. What are you taking? Cocaine I guess by you're erratic state. Well is it?"

"Yes...now let me go." He made for the door again but Mycroft grabbed him from behind to stop him moving.

"Get off!"

"You're not going back out there, you're going to bed. You're going to crash soon and those people out there shouldn't have to deal with your issues." He pulled him out the door and pulled him upstairs to his room. As soon as he shut the door he started looking round "Now where is it?"

"Where's what?" Sherlock replied as he curled up onto the bed facing the wall.

"Don't play dumb with me. Where is it?" Mycroft said rummaging around the room. Sherlock said nothing.

"You would have thought you could have thought of a better hiding place." Sherlock spun round and looked towards his dressing gown. Mycroft wasn't stood there but he had just given away his hiding place. Mycroft pulled the packets our of the pocket of the gown along with the paraphernalia.

"Oh Sherlock. This is serious." Mycroft said with a concerned look towards the boy. Again Sherlock said nothing. "You can stay here Sherlock and I'll fetch you in the morning." Mycroft turned and shut the door behind, locking it as he left. Sherlock threw a cushion at the door behind his brother and started pacing the room. Now the drugs had been taken away from him he realised how much he needed them. He paced up and down. Threw things and banged on the door but nothing helped the feeling. The crash was coming he got onto his bed and slept it off.

He woke up to the sound of his door unlocking the next day. Mycroft appeared in his doorway, frowning at the disgruntled rough looking boy on the bed.

"How's our favourite junkie?" He said as he entered the room. Sherlock made a rude gesture in response.

"The withdrawal is only going to get worse brother dear."

"What does it even matter to you? You act like you care but you really couldn't give a damn what I do. It only makes more of an impression that I'm the failure and you're the one that they'll always be proud of." Sherlock said through gritted teeth as he managed to raise himself to his feet. He grabbed his phone and put his shoes on.

"And where do you think you're going?"

"A long way away from here". Every movement was painful but he still had the element of surprise. He shoved Mycroft in the chest and took his moment and ran out the room. He only had a few moments. He got to the kitchen and rifled through his Mother's handbag taking all the cash he could. He grabbed about £150 and sprinted out the door. He could hear Mycroft gaining on him behind. His brothers car sat outside, he broke the window, hot wired the car and drove it of the estate.

Woah double update in one day! I have too much free time.

We go back to present time next chapter so you know.

Thanks for sticking with my story.

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