Out of Hiding

Mycroft laid on the cold floor of the master bathroom. His jacket and tie were of, and his hair smelled of vomit. Sherlock was pressed against him, shirtless, and in a bath robe.

"Mikey what happened?" a soft voice asked, he sounded like he was five again.

"Too soon, baba it was too bloody soon," the elder murmured, holding him tightly.

"I threw up…" Mycroft rubbed his head gently, like when had been detoxing all those years ago.

"Yes, on me Sherly.. Well mostly all of the lot of the backseat of the car." The elder heard soft feet padding on the floorboards outside, and Alistair entered with tea and biscuits. Slowly he set the tea things down and joined the brothers on the floor.

"Stop being such an amazing carer," Mycroft whispered, gratefully accepting the tea. The psychologist smiled, gently holding Sherlock's hand.

"Its my lot in life, carn't be helped…" he glanced at his pocket watch taking Sherlock's pulse.

"That's a boy, shall we have a feed now… Yeah," Alistair cradled Sherlock in one arm a biscuit in the other hand, Mycroft slept on the floor next to the pair.

"That's it, there we go…" Sherlock nuzzled him, his senses a bit mad now with the after shock of the attack.

Now then, shall we go get bunny for Mycroft?" the psychologist grinned, causing Sherlock to giggle.

"OK then,"

Mycroft woke up to the sound of his former lover's voice reading to Sherlock. There was a fresh set of flowers in the vase, and a small creature in his arms. He looks up to see Sherlock's head in his former lover's lap and the therapist reading Sherlock's favorite bed time story.

"His fever broke,"

"Yes, he wanted the bunny story, and some cake. I said on the condition he doesn't vomit," Mycroft grinned, Alistair had been so wonderful with his baby brother when they were at Uni. He had come in from shopping to him singing to Sherlock after school one day, and the poor thing had wanted to rest. Mycroft had learned that day that he must share the most precious ting in his life with the man he loved.

He left them to cuddle and he went to find Greg. It was now or never. Gre was in the sitting room working on some paper work swa his lover and grinned.

"You OK, sweetheart?"

"Greg… I have an eating disorder," the DI stood pulling Mycroft into his arms, and oholding him close, gently swaying back and forth. He had known something was up.

"Thank you for being honest with me, Mikey…"

"I…"

"I will help you, please let me help you…"