English Summer Rain

Hold your breath and count to ten,
And fall apart and start again,
Hold your breath and count to ten,
Start again, start again...

Mycroft had left the room in a prompt fashion after John had thrown himself tearfully over Sherlock, leaving the two of them on their own until Lestrade had come back to escort John back to the ward. They hadn't shared much though, Sherlock was still exhausted and out of sorts with everything that had been exposed about his life, and John was still struggling to supress his sniffles as he occasionally lifted his head from Sherlock's chest to lay soggy kisses against his dry lips. Despite the shock of John's tears and breakdown over what he had been through Sherlock had found it relieving. It was a part of his life he had tried several times now to permanently remove himself from, he had thought that if he were handling it this badly there was going to be little to no chance of anyone else dealing with it any better.

It all came back to his lifestyle in the end, once a call boy always a call boy and Moriarty had always taunted him that he was the best that Sherlock would ever have, simply because he was used up damaged goods. But John had wept for him, shuddering violent cries that had left the front of Sherlock's thin hospital gown damp and soggy with John's bodily fluids.

But in the end John had made it clear he would be sticking around, simply through the simple peck on the cheek and the promise that he would be back tomorrow morning and that they would be talking more then. Sherlock had smiled and nodded, wondering if it was the arrhythmia or the excitement in the promise of seeing John again tomorrow that made his heart skip a few beats.

The doctors words hadn't had a chance to sink in on him just yet, and Sherlock swallowed against the small claws of panic that were curling inside his chest and settling themselves there. How many times had someone from the den brought him back from an accidental overdose? Had his brother pulled him back from the brink before he had been cast aside like a rag? It was only natural that this time he came away with a permanent reminder, he wondered if John knew, if Mycroft or Lestrade had told him that eventually his heart would start to fail. He would need to speak more in depth with the doctor when he had a chance, work out the time frame and see what he had to work with.

Casting an eye up towards the heart monitor, watching the irregular beats move up and down through the squiggly lines, Sherlock jumped when his brother coughed from the doorway and moved back in to the room looking thoroughly put out by what he had seen between John and his little brother. Sherlock smirked at him as he settled back down in his seat and crossed one leg over the other and tapping his fingers on the worn arm rest.

'I have a team currently closing the net around Moriarty, it shouldn't be long before he is taken in to my custody where he will be appropriately dealt with.' Mycroft was looking across the room, away from Sherlock. 'He will no longer be a problem for you.'

They sat in silence for a few moments. Sherlock didn't know what to say, he knew he should say thank you but he and Mycroft had never shared a relationship like that and there was still bad blood between them even though Sherlock knew he had brought all of this down on himself. It was Mycroft who surprisingly broke the silence. 'Why didn't you come to me Sherlock? Surely you couldn't hate me enough to end your life over coming to me for protection and sanctuary from a predator.' There was an inflection of hurt in his voice that stung at Sherlock, even as he struggled to push it away.

'I was out of my mind when I escaped, I didn't know what I was doing short of finding the next score and getting as far away as I could.' Sherlock whispered, unable to raise his voice any higher, unable to think of anything else to say. 'You had made it clear I was no longer welcome at your townhouse, and the next best thing to far away was death; I was well aware of what that man was capable of.'

'Oh Sherlock.' Mycroft sighed and lowered his head in to his hands for a long moment, they sat in silence again. Sherlock knew that Mycroft was feeling the pressure of blame over his words, and while Sherlock didn't want to give his brother the satisfaction of owning up to his own mistakes he didn't want to see his brother blaming himself so harshly either. He had done what any normal sibling in his situation would have done with their drug addicted thieving brother. He didn't hold it against Mycroft that he had cut him off and out.

'Though you may think yourself in control of everything I do Mycroft I am my own person capable of making my own decisions, you should know by now with my track record I am infamous for making the wrong ones and I followed through with that again this time and now I need to lay in the bed I have made for myself, you played no part in this regardless of what you may think.' Sherlock didn't think he was going to get out of this bed for a long time coming, he had done the damage and now he had to face the results of that without burying his head in the sand again or blanketing them with drugs.

Mycroft lifted his head from his hands looking world weary and exhausted. 'You need to let me in again Sherlock, work with me this time.' Mycroft steadied his tired blue eyes on him. 'Don't make me force this treatment on you anymore; you need to stop running before it's too late.'

Sherlock sighed and choked on his breath over a rapid row of skipped heart beats, coughing heavily around painful muscles until his older brother came to the rescue and pressed an oxygen mask over his mouth and helped him to time his laboured breaths. After he had gotten his breath back and sank against his pillows Sherlock looked away from Mycroft and spoke quietly; 'I don't have a choice now Mycroft, the doctor was just trying to be optimistic.'

'How do you figure that?' Mycroft asked, voice confused.

'In a few years he said I'd be on the transplant list, but even I know nobody will look twice at my name after they see my history, no matter how much I try and prove I am 'recovered'' He let his head loll towards his brother again, breath fogging the mask. 'A runaway, underage prostitute with four suicide attempts and numerous overdoses and history of destructive and self-harm behaviours. Not even you will be able to convince a medical team to accept my name on the list.'

'Ah little brother, you have so little faith in me.' Mycroft shook his head. 'I have connections with the head of the transplant team at the Royal London, we are in the middle of working out a contract for your acceptance to the transplant list as we speak on the grounds that when the time comes you will be rehabilitated, clean from drugs and at a minimum BMI and doing something with your life.' Mycroft stood up and began to fuss with the blankets around Sherlock's thin frame as his eyes narrowed at him in disbelief. If one thing Mycroft had taught him growing up had stuck with him, it was that sentiment was a dangerous weakness and yet here was his older brother showing the one thing he so thoroughly despised.

After a moment Sherlock spoke; 'why would you do this for me? You've never had this much faith in me before, who is to say as soon as I am released from care I won't just go straight back to my old life?' He didn't think that he would, but he needed to work out how sincere his brother was in this promise of a chance at life continuing for Sherlock. He was weary of the reality of this going ahead.

Sitting back down and making a show of arranging himself, deliberately stalling Sherlock Mycroft leaned back and tilted his head. 'Because now you seem to have a reason to live outside of your own head, I don't believe you would fancy the idea of breaking the news to John Watson that you will be dead within the years end and that everything the two of you have built these past months has been all for nothing.'

'I didn't think you would approve of us.' Sherlock mumbled, cheeks reddening. He hadn't expected his brother to approach that territory. Mycroft just gave anther mighty sigh again and rolled his eyes.

'Why brother would I have a problem with you showing the first signs of love and emotion for the first time in your life? I am ecstatic as I am sure will be our parents when they find out and meet the charming young man himself. He may be rather homely and very average and stupid compared to you or I, but he seems to do alright.' Sherlock scowled when Mycroft called John stupid but didn't say anything. Secretly he was pleased with Mycroft's approval though he would rather die than admit that out loud to anyone.

Shuffling deeper in to his pillows to try and take some of the pressure off sore back muscles and ribs, Sherlock turned to his brother with his brows raised. 'What have you told our parents?'

'They don't know anything at all right now, I had held off on informing them of placing you in treatment under the proviso that you wouldn't hang around for long enough to bother involving them. But I was going to inform them by the weeks end if you continued to show signs of declining and not waking up, I would have spun a convincing enough story to break it to them as easily as I could, but you know mummy. Either way she will not take this well.'

Sherlock snorted painfully, wincing at the pain in his chest.

'You will not be going back to the unit once you are medically cleared to leave the hospital, I have arranged for you to continue your convalescence at my townhouse with a nurse and an emergency doctor on call.' Mycroft held up a hand to silence him as soon as Sherlock opened his mouth to protest. 'I have arranged with Greg private consultations and special allowed leave for the continuation of John Watson's treatment for two hours in the evening after supper on the conditions you complete all meals and medications for the day.' Sherlock groaned, rolling his eyes dramatically but it could honestly be a lot worse.

'I don't understand why you are all so obsessed with fattening me up.' He sniped instead. 'And how am I supposed to keep myself amused while locked away indefinitely in your townhouse?' That was going to be the biggest issue, keeping his brain and mind amused while he gained back his health and energy. If he didn't have something to garner his attention on then he was going to be climbing the walls in defiance and doing what he could to cause any trouble at all or distract him.

'You will be resuming your studies and preparing for your college entrance exam, I believe at one point you and I discussed your interest in chemistry? I have arranged a special admission exam with the Dean when you are well enough.'

'Oh god, this is going to be pure torture I can tell already.' Sherlock slumped back against the pillows dramatically, a small smile shared between the brothers.