Hi guys! Sorry I've been away for so long. My laptop is broken so I can't update! I'll be able to start updating again soon when I get a new one. I've stolen my sister's laptop while she's out so you can at least get this chapter today. I should be able to start updating on a regular basis by September. Thanks for being so patient!


Code Number 66957

Sherlock stood alone in his lab. Alone was how it should be. If there was anyone else there, he would be forced to return to the house and all his work would be for nothing. He was currently seeing how blood was affected by different metals. It was a pretty basic experiment and he only had his own sample of blood, but it was better than no experiment at all. He would need to steal some supplies from school to bring home with him to do more complex experiments.

He made his final 'notes' about the experiment in his mind palace before making his way back to the main building. He moved his hair out of his eyes and closed the door quietly behind him.

"Hello, boy."

Sherlock froze. He looked up to see the familiar face of his father.

And he was angry.


Mycroft sat back in his car seat and twisted his umbrella in his hand. His family were not expecting him home but he knew their father was returning later today. Sherlock wouldn't want him there but Mycroft knew his father wouldn't dare lay a finger on his brother if he was present. Not after last time.

He had been informed that his father had managed to catch an earlier flight and so he had rescheduled the day's meetings for another time. Thankfully he only had one with the health secretary and that could wait.

He put away his mobile phone as his car pulled up the driveway. He looked at the grand building which was the Holmes Estate. Although his father was in no means a good man, he most certainly had an eye for beautiful buildings.


"Don't even bother trying to run." his father said coldly as he grabbed Sherlock firmly by the arm before he could move away. "Mycroft isn't here to save you this time."

Mycroft.

Sherlock slowly moved his hand towards his trouser pocket, but before he could reach his phone, his father grabbed his other arm and slammed the boy against the wall.

No way out.

He was trapped.

All Sherlock could do was close his eyes and accept the pain which was about to follow.


Mycroft whistled lightly as he walked up to the front door. He rang the doorbell and waited to be allowed in.

The door opened and a young maid stood in the doorway.

"Master Mycroft, sir. The family aren't expecting you, sir. Madam left for town half an hour ago, sir." She said.

Mycroft frowned. The girl looked worried, she hid it well, but it was clear something was very wrong. "What is going on?" Mycroft asked as he made his way into his old home.

"It's not my place to say, sir, but it's the master, sir, and master Sherlock, sir."

Mycroft's face paled as he put down his coat and umbrella while listening to her words. "Where are they?"

"Back door by the kitchen, sir. Please hurry, sir!"

Mycroft strode quickly away from the young woman towards the incident taking place.


This was it. He was going to die.

Sherlock was curled up in a ball on the ground, protecting his stomach and head, even though it was too late. He felt the blood tricking through his hands and drying in his hair. His chest felt like it was being consistently stabbed each time he moved. Everything hurt.

He stayed there, feeling less and less pain as time went on. He just felt numb.

There was a sudden kick to his chest and a loud crack. He couldn't feel any more pain but his breathing became more and more difficult. There was a loud throbbing in his head, like drums, distracting him from thinking straight. He couldn't focus. Whenever he dared open his eyes, everything was blurry and bright.

They say before death you see your life flash before your eyes.

They were wrong.

Sherlock didn't see anything, but he supposed they were half right. His current situation had occurred many times before and so it was like a song stuck on repeat. It was just the same thing every time. Except this time, he knew he wouldn't wake up.

He almost felt he would be glad if this was the end. He would never have to experience this pain ever again. It would almost be a blessing. No one would miss him anyway. His death wouldn't affect anyone.

He could hear his father's voice shout abuse at him but couldn't understand him over the ringing in his ears.

He coughed and could instantly recognise the metallic taste of his own blood.

And then it stopped.

He could hear distant voices. He opened his eyes a crack to see the familiar figure of Mycroft before his body finally gave in and he lost consciousness.


The first thing Mycroft saw as he walked in, was his father's body looming over Sherlock's.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?!" Mycroft shouted at his father.

The older man stopped hitting and kicking the boy and turned to his elder son. Mycroft could see his little brother's blood all over his hands and the tiled white floor. It made him sick to the stomach.

"He deserved it." His father spat out and walked away.

Mycroft would have followed him but right now his brother was far more important. He knelt down beside his body and grabbed his wrist. There was a pulse but it was weak, very weak.

"Sherlock? Sherlock can you hear me?" he asked as he got out his mobile with shaking hands. He got no response. He carefully twisted his brother's head to the side so that the blood in his mouth wouldn't coke him, hoping he wasn't causing more damage.

Mycroft quickly dialled 999 and held up the phone to his ear. "Code number 66957." He said before being immediately reconnected.

"Mr Holmes, what service do you require?" a female voice said down the phone.

"Ambulance. Holmes Estate. Back door. Get here now!" he almost shouted as he hung up the phone.

All he could do was wait for the ambulance to arrive. He kept his hand on Sherlock's wrist, making sure the pulse was still there.

If only he'd got there earlier. He would have been okay. He would have been able to stop him. Sherlock would have been safe.


Sherlock opened his eyes.

Here he was again.

Hospitals were becoming a third home to him, after his real 'home' and school.

"Welcome back to reality brother." Mycroft said next to him.

Sherlock flicked his eyes to the side to see his brother sitting there, as usual.

"How long was I out for this time?" Sherlock said as he tried to move into a more comfortable position, only to find a harsh pain in his chest which caused him to wince.

"That would be your punctured lung." Mycroft said, referring to the pain Sherlock just experienced. "You left us for a few hours."

"My head hurts…" Sherlock said as he touched the back of his head to find stitches on his scalp.

"Yes, you also cracked your skull open."

Sherlock looked at his brother. Tense, keeps shifting position, tighter grip on umbrella than usual. "There's something you're not telling me."

Mycroft nodded solemnly "Sherlock," he began, choosing his words carefully. "While you were unconscious, your heart stopped for 49 seconds."

"In other words, I died." Sherlock said bluntly, unfazed by what Mycroft had just told him."

"Yes."

"Then why didn't you just leave it that way?" Sherlock snapped.

Mycroft was almost speechless. Did his brother really just say that?

"Sherlock?"

"Dying would be much easier than living." Sherlock said simply and reached out for the glass of water by his side, only to see two of his fingers taped together, obviously one of them was broken, and a bandage around his wrist. He must have fractured it on impact with the floor.

"Do you mean that Sherlock, do you really mean it?"

"Hm." Was all Sherlock said on the matter, before taking a sip of water. "How long do I have to stay here this time?" Sherlock asked.

Mycroft obeyed his silent wish to not speak about dying and switched to Sherlock's new topic of conversation. "At least 2 weeks-"

"What?" Sherlock said and sighed dramatically, instantly regretting it after getting a sharp pain in his chest.

"They need to make sure you're on the road to recovery. They will let you out before your lung is fully healed but you will need to be careful. I do, however, know what you're like and so I believe you should stay until the school term begins again, where you will visit the nurse each day for a check up."

Throughout Mycroft's little speech Sherlock groaned out of annoyance. "And what if I don't?" he said irritably.

"Then you can stay here until you have fully recovered."

"Mycroft stop fussing. You're not my mother!"

"Our mother, Sherlock." He said as he stood. "I will just go and inform your doctor that you have woken up."

Sherlock paused a moment before speaking. "Do they know, Mycroft? The doctors, do they know why I'm here?"

Mycroft froze for a second with his hand on the door handle. "Some things are best kept secret, Sherlock." He said finally and left the room.


"You're very brave, you know Sherlock?" the nurse said as she replaced the IV in his arm.

"Why do you say that?" Sherlock said as he read another page in his book: 'the history of London'. He was currently on the blitz. Apparently, they knew the Germans were going to comb Coventry, but they let it happen anyway, so the Germans didn't know they had leaked the information.

"Most people your age would find this very traumatic and stressful. You're as cool as a cucumber!" she said with a smile.

"Yes, well, I've been through this many times before…" he said before realising it.

The nurse smiled at him sadly. "Now, are you going to eat today?" She asked cheerfully, trying to change the subject, to which Sherlock was thankful.

"Can I have an apple?"

"An apple a day keeps the doctor away, eh?" she said with a laugh. "I'll see what I can do."

The nurse left the room and Sherlock slammed his book shut. He was so bored. He prodded himself in the chest to see how much it hurt today. Not too bad, better than yesterday.

He had been there for almost 3 weeks now. They would have to discharge him soon or else he would not make it back to school in time for the new school year.

"They're going to let you out tomorrow." The nurse said as she returned, as if she had just been reading his thoughts.

"How do you know?" he asked inquisitively, staring out the window.

"You're doctor just told me to tell you." She said as he put the apple in his hand "He's too busy with another patient at the moment. Poor girl. She's been hit by a car. The driver just drove off, leaving her to die." She shook her head sadly. "You get some very unpleasant people in this world." She smiled sadly at him. "Eat up. You'll need your strength for when you return to school."

"Thank you, Clara." He said and took a bite of his apple.

"You're very welcome Sherlock." She replied as she left the room. That was the first time Sherlock had thanked anyone working there. He rarely even spoke to the staff there, so the last thing she expected was for him to bother knowing his name.

The thought put a smile on her face for the rest of the day.