Part Seven: Empty Eyes, Like a Broken Doll

About two weeks earlier...

Mycroft looked up from his book, frowned. The usual heavy stillness of the house in late evening had been interrupted by a sound. He'd been deep into his reading and so couldn't immediately place the origin or meaning, until it happened a second time.

The door-bell, chiming furiously, as if someone was trying to pull it off of the outside wall.

He set the book aside and got up. The maid would answer the door, but it was almost 11 pm and he was faintly uncomfortable with the idea of of the young woman opening the door to God-only-knew-who at this time of night. It was a very safe and secure neighborhood, normally, but he knew better than to take chances.

Red-headed Shannon was just cautiously looking through the security peephole when he arrived in the entryway. He smiled to see her rising up onto her toes to see out properly.

"I'm not sure who it is, sir... a man, but he looks as if he's not in very good nick. Ill or injured."

With a faint shiver of foreboding, Mycroft gently moved her aside and looked for himself. He gasped, a quick intake of breath, as he recognised the tattered, slender figure swaying on the front step. Sherlock.

He turned to the maid. "It's all right. It's ... somehow I know, and we'll need to help him." Mycoft opened the door and motioned her out to follow him.

He caught his brother just as he fell, sagging against him. Shannon crept around to the other side, reached out a hand, drew back. Her face was white with fear. "Sir... he's covered in blood!"

Grimly, Mycroft managed to get Sherlock's not-quite-completely-limp arm around his neck, and between them, he and the reluctant maid half-carried, half-dragged him into the entryway. Once inside with the door safely closed, Mycroft lowered his brother gently to the polished parquet floor, knelt next to him, and started to assess him.

Breathing, good. Colour looks okay. He ripped open the jacket and shirt, looking for wounds, but the chest and abdomen were intact; only Sherlock's smooth white skin met his hands and eyes. It appeared as though the blood, which was indeed spattered liberally over Sherlock's clothing, might not be his. He looked like he'd been in a slaughterhouse but Mycroft could find no obvious injuries.

He sank back upon his heels.

"Sir? Should I call an ambulance?"

He looked up at her frightened face, then back at Sherlock. "Yes, we'll need one ... but not by the usual means. I'll make the call. Go back out and see if there is any obvious blood on the front step, and start removing it if you find any."

She nodded and slipped back out. Mycroft retrieved his mobile phone from inside his suit jacket and placed a call to a very special classified number, then turned his attention back to his brother. His eyelids were fluttering, and Mycroft bent closer, slapping his cheek gently.

"Sherlock! Wake up, tell me what happened!"

He repeated the entreaty a few times and shook his brother slightly. Finally Sherlock's eyes opened and he seemed to track on Mycroft's face.

"Mycroft..." he groaned.

"That much should be obvious. I've got medical assistance coming, but it would help greatly if you could tell me what happened."

"Need help... don't deserve it... but need it. May be too late now..."

Mycroft frowned. "Too late for what?"

"Shouldn't have done it. Should have thought of her, that she might be there. All broken now, all gone, all that blood... empty eyes, like a broken doll. Hurts too much, Mycroft."

"Are you in pain?"

"No. No pain now. No more pain soon."

He didn't like the sound of that at all. He looked at his brother's dazed face, his barely perceptible breathing. "Sherlock... did you take something?"

"Whole bottle. Whole bottle of them."

"Whole bottle of what?"

Sherlock was looking into the distance, his gaze somewhere over Mycroft's shoulder. "Changed my mind... tried to throw them up. Couldn't. Need help..."

Mycroft swore under his breath. "For God's sake, Sherlock what did you take?"

But there was no answer, and he could only watch as if in a dream as the door opened to admit the emergency medical team, and they began to assess and work on his brother, starting with supporting his failing breathing.