Mycroft gets the phone call he's been dreading. It's a relief, in a way; at least he can finally stop worrying about this moment and start dealing with it. He's in an important meeting, but it can wait. The reports can wait, the e-mails can wait, his boss can wait, everything can wait while he rushes to St. Bart's. His baby brother (why do I still call him a baby when he's 26?) is in intensive care after taking a combination of cocaine and heroin known as a speedball. Watching Sherlock's chest move up and down, Mycroft thanks whatever deities exist that someone found him and called 999. Whether or not he was found in time remains to be seen.
Mycroft's greatest fear is that he will have to bury his little brother.
