A.N: WARNING DRUG USE! (AND THERE WILL BE DRUG USE (WELL REFERENCES) QUITE A LOT IN THE FOR SEE-ABLE FUTURE IN THIS STORY!) (Sorry! :() And some not soo nice language! :( Sorry!

Sherlock is still 18 and Mycroft is still 21! :D

The first full term at University flew by for Sherlock. He had a new way of keeping his brain stimulated. His supply of drugs was good; his dealer never let him down. He was never bored; he kept his doses low so he still had his main and vital senses intact.

At first he only took powdered cocaine, but as time progressed, Sherlock realised that the powder was effecting the cartilage in his nose, so moved on to injecting it, as long as he didn't use the same place to inject it all regularly there would be no problems, or damage to his body.

But once again Christmas was looming, soon Sherlock would go home for the Christmas period. He didn't want to but he wasn't allowed to stay in the dorm over the Christmas period, his mother had requested that he was allowed home.

He was dreading it, the fact that James and Mycroft would be there, filled his heart with dread. But the time soon came; the car arrived on campus to take him home. To take him to the place he grew up, but also the place that had caused him so much pain and suffering.

He arrived back home in the early evening, five days before Christmas day. The car pulled up in the front of the house. Amelia pulled open the door and ran out to her youngest son, as he pulled his bag from the car's boot.

"Sherly! Welcome home darling and a very Merry Christmas." She said as she embraced her son.

"Merry Christmas, Mummy." Sherlock mumbled.

Amelia stood on her tiptoes and kissed Sherlock on the cheek. "Come on Sherly, come inside." Amelia said as snow began to fall.

The pair walked inside, Sherlock excused himself to take his bag upstairs into his room.

Sherlock entered his room, shutting and locking the door behind him, removing the key, ensuring no one could enter his room. He walked forwards chucking his bag onto his bed.

Sherlock slumped down beside it. He laid down, placing his hands behind his head. Closing his eyes, he thought for a moment.

But as soon as he shut them his mind was filled with horrid images, the nightmare that was the younger years of his life; the memories flying through his mind, tormenting him. Just as quickly as he had shut them, his eyes flew open again. He couldn't do this, two weeks in this place; having to act like there was nothing wrong for Amelia's sake, having to cope with James' harsh words and violent actions. And Mycroft, being the perfect son that he had always been, boasting about his rather high position in the British Government, that he had acquired with in a few months, because he managed to save some top-secret research from being leaked and how he saved the Prime Minister by "accident".

Sherlock had sworn to himself that he would use drugs in the house; he couldn't take them in front of Mummy. But he already knew he would barely last the next two days, let alone the next two weeks. No he couldn't last without them, without their feeling of escape, no not here.

Sherlock knew he would eventually need them.

Without them he would tear himself apart.

By the 23rd of December Sherlock could take no more.

He needed the drugs.

Over the last three days, he had tried to deal with the fake niceties of family life. But beneath it all James, Mycroft and Sherlock knew the truth. The niceties were all fake.

The falseness of it all is what had led Sherlock up to his room. The door locked, Sherlock sitting on his bed plunging a needle into his arm, and plunging the drugs into his veins, into his system. Within minutes the rush had kicked in. But it was a lot more extreme than normal.

What normal felt like a tiny spark in the back of his brain, now felt like his brain had been tasered, with 40,000 volts surging through it.

The room swirled before his eyes. Sherlock had gone too far, taken too much. Once Sherlock had put the needle and the rest of the evidence away of his doing away, Sherlock laid on his bed a moment, staring at the ceiling, trying to compose himself just slightly. So it wasn't obvious that he wasn't his usual self. Compose himself enough so it wasn't obvious that he was high.

There was a slight knock at his door, and Mycroft's voice came through the wood. "Sherlock? Sherlock are you okay in there?"

Sherlock laid on his bed, the world still a strange place in his eyes. "Goooo awaay Mycrofttt!" Sherlock slurred. Sherlock shook his head trying to sort out his words. "I am fine Mycroft! Okay? So just go away!"

Mycroft tried to open the door, but the door just strained against the lock. "Sherlock! Open the door!" Mycroft pushed against the door once again. "Sherlock open this door now! Sherlock what is wrong? Sherlock just open the door now!"

"Mycroft! I said go away!" Sherlock roared. The cocaine had given Sherlock confidence, he felt so much better, than he had earlier that day.

"Sherlock if you don't open the door now, I will go and get someone to kick this door down!" Mycroft said, raising his voice through the door.

"I said go away Mycroft! Leave me alone! Do I have to spell it out! L. E. A. V. E. M. E. A. L. O. N. E.!" Sherlock said, starting to get really anger with Mycroft.

Mycroft back away from the door, turned away from the door and headed down the stairs to the lounge. Where James and Amelia sat awaiting for Sherlock's arrival back in the lounge, so that they could let dinner be served.

"Crofty, darling, where is Sherly?" Amelia said as soon as she saw Mycroft entering the room alone.

"In his room, he has locked himself in. And he isn't coming out." Mycroft said, as stood still for a moment, leaning on his umbrella.

James looked at Mycroft; for once he didn't have a drink in his hand. After being diagnosed with atherosclerosis, as a result of high blood pressure, James was prone to heart attacks. So James had to watch his diet and alcohol intake. As well as avoiding strenuous activities.

"My, I will go sort Sherlock out. You two go and tell the cooks to serve dinner in about 10 minutes. I'll have Sherlock down by then." James said smiling at Mycroft and Amelia.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow slightly, knowing what was truly going on, made him worried. ""I will go with Mummy to tell the kitchen staff then I will be up in about 5 minutes okay? Just in case you need any assistance." Mycroft said, forcing himself to smile at James.

Mycroft went with Amelia towards the kitchen.

James rose from the sofa and headed up the stairs towards Sherlock's room. But on the way he stopped by his office grabbing a key. The houses skeleton key, the key that would open any door in the house.

Sherlock still laid on his bed in his room, the key to his door laying on his beside table. The drugs still having a large effect on him. All his senses had been enhanced.

Sherlock heard a key begin to turn in his door's lock. He sat up, and headed to towards the door, as James walked through the door.

"So you're having a tantrum like a 5-year-old." James sneered looking at Sherlock. Sherlock looked at James, for once he didn't feel like a coward, he didn't feel scared of the man who beat him, called him names. The first and last push to being where he was now.

"What have you being doing in here you little brat?" James asked looking around the room.

"I am not scared of you anymore." Sherlock blurted out.

"What?!" James said, stopping for a moment, looking towards Sherlock. Despite the fact that Sherlock was taller than James, James still felt that he ruled over Sherlock.

"I said I am not scared of you anymore. Because I am not scared of you! You can't scare me anymore. I have dealt with how you have treated me for years! And you will not be able to do that anymore! I wont allow it." Sherlock said, approaching James. Full of confidence.

James anger built up inside of him, how dare Sherlock speak to him that way. James was Sherlock's elder, he deserved respect. "How dare you speak to me like that!" James roared. Raising his hand towards Sherlock.

But Sherlock stopped him, and grabbed James' hand, bending it slightly, pushing James towards the nearest wall. Sherlock grabbed James collar, pushing him against the wall. "How dare I? How dare I!? I have not done anything to you! I tried to get along with you! I wanted you to be my Dad! But you were the one who pushed me away! Abused me!" Sherlock said, tears starting to form in his eyes.

"But what does that matter now?! It doesn't because, you are now in the same position I have been in so many times." Sherlock said, as he raised his fist, ready to let 11 years worth of anger out. His fist beginning to get closer to James.

"SHERLOCK!" Mycroft yelled, standing a few feet away from the pair, his hand reaching out. Sherlock paused. "Sherlock stop it now! Let James go. Don't lower yourself to his level."

Sherlock stopped and let go of James who fell to the floor clutching his took a few steps back. He came back round to his senses for a moment, the drugs had taken over, changed him too much. Taken him too far. James sat on the floor and looked up at Sherlock.

Staring at the broken 18-year-old, James began to laugh.

Sherlock snapped again, still fueled by drugs, he lunged towards James. Mycroft ran over to Sherlock and pulled him back. He managed to grab hold of Sherlock just before he reached James.

"Sherlock calm down now!" Mycroft said, using all his force to hold his brother back. Mycroft pulled him over to the far side of the room, shoving him against the wall. Looking at Sherlock, Mycroft noticed his dilated pupils. "Sherlock what have you taken?"

Sherlock stilled tried to get away. Mycroft shook his brother's shoulders slightly, Sherlock looked at Mycroft, and smiled slightly in his drugged state. "Let me at him Crofty!" Sherlock said trying to barge past Mycroft. Mycroft just shoved Sherlock back.

"Sherlock! Tell me, What have you taken!?" Mycroft yelled.

Sherlock just shrugged. Mycroft looked behind him towards James, and worried at the sight he saw. James was laying on the floor unconscious, his hands laying above his chest. As far as Mycroft could see, James wasn't breathing either. Mycroft went over to check if he was okay, but as soon as he had confirmed James wasn't breathing Sherlock had come over, still wanting revenge. Mycroft pulled Sherlock away again, "Sherlock stop this now! I need to help James he isn't breathing and if I don't help him, he will die!" Mycroft yelled, trying to get his brother to come to his senses.

"Good. The world would be a better place without him!" Sherlock spat.

Mycroft couldn't do this; hold Sherlock back and help James. "Mother! Help me! Hurry!" He yelled at the top of his lungs.

As soon as Mycroft heard his mother climbing the stairs. Mycroft let go of Sherlock and ran over to James, and immediately started performing CPR.

Amelia stood in the door way for a second, tears streaming down her face as she saw Mycroft performing CPR on James. "My...croft.." Amelia choked out. She looked around the room and found Sherlock slumped against a wall, on the far side of the room, with a grin from ear to ear.

"Mother take Sherlock out of here and call an ambulance! Quickly!" Mycroft said, as he kept on with the CPR.

"Sherlock, come with me please, darling." Amelia said reaching out to her son. Sherlock looked up at his mother, and saw the amount of sadness that filled her face. Knowing how upset she was Sherlock got up walked across the room, grabbing his mother's hand. Then followed her out the room, refusing to let his mother's hand go.

While Amelia phoned an ambulance, Mycroft continued with the CPR, refusing to stop, refusing to let himself fail. He didn't want to have that feeling of failure.

The ambulance arrived 7 minutes after Mycroft had started CPR. But as soon as they arrived and found out that CPR had been performed for over 5 minutes with no response what so ever, the paramedics pronounced James dead.

Amelia broke down when they told her, Sherlock sat in the corner of his room in silence, not quiet sure what to do. Mycroft lead his mother to the ambulance where they sedated her to calm her down. While the private ambulance took James' body away.

Mycroft went back up to Sherlock's room, to find Sherlock on the bed plunging another into his arm. "Sherlock! What are you doing!?" Mycroft yelled, storming across the room, grabbing the needle off Sherlock. "Sherlock what is this?" Mycroft asked looking at the needle.

"Coke." Sherlock smiled.

Mycroft paced back and forth across the room for a few moments before, leaving the room to make a phone call.

"Hello." Mycroft said as the person on the other end of the phone picked up. "Hello, this is Mycroft Holmes... Yes... Well, I need a car at the house... No it is not for me... I need it to take my brother to the nearest rehabilitation centre... Could you also warn them of his arrival, I need to go to comfort my mother... Yes I will see him off... Sherlock, yes... Thank you.. Goodbye."

A.N: Sorry about the Spelling out of 'Leave me alone' and having to put a full stop afterwards, it was the only way it would work... So my apologies. Yes I do apologise for my grammar in this chapter, I wanted to try to get a chapter up for each of my stories that are on the go, before the end of the day, so haven't had time to check it (But my Beta will hopefully check it A.S.A.P for me so I can change mistakes) ... But I don't think I will be able to do the other story (So any followers of "A Weeks Stay With Mycroft" I am sorry! I will make sure that is the next story I update when I have time!) So I sorry if I don't update for a while, starting 6th Form... and unfortunately school work comes first! :(

But anyway back to the chapter. So yeah... umm... What did you think? Please leave a review! :D

And Thank you for all your support and follows and reviews! I LOVE YOU ALL! xD