Thanks to xravenscroftx and Bowen Cates for their reviews, it's appreciated.
Enjoy:
Sherlock caught the ball in his left hand, passed it to his right hand and threw it again, Mycroft was not appreciative of his brothers drug habits and so had locked him in an empty room until he was 'better', something he now regretted was giving his brother a ball.
For four hours now, since six o'clock in the morning, his brother had eaten nothing, drunk nothing and said nothing, he just sat, continuously throwing that damned ball.
Mycroft had settled to a childish path of retliation and now he stood in front of his brother with numerous small bags of tobacco and a maid holding a bin, every time his brother threw the ball another bagh of tobacco went in the bin.
Sherlock continued to throw the ball regardless, not truly believeing his brother would restrict his tobacco supply any further than he already had.
When the last bag was thrown into the bin Mycroft gave the order to dispose of it, Sherlock stopped breathing, "What?" he hissed, "What?" he threww the ball at the wall, frustration overcoming him, it smashed into the wall, denting the plaster before falling to the floor.
"Sherlock, your behaviour is dispicable, do you wish me to call mother? She'd soon turn you round!" Snapped Mycroft.
Holmes froze, "Mother." he whispered, his eyes widening, the immense fear this thought caused him was so incredibly apparent it made Mycroft smile, guiltily, of course.
wowthatwasagoodchapterithinkimightreviewquicklyandlettheauthorknowmythoughts. (SubliminalMessagingChuxter) xD
