Author's note: 25/60.
Pairing: Mycroft x Sherlock (platonic)
Warnings: Mentions of drug addiction
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock.
Tribulation
Sherlock's drug abuse was the source of great tribulation to Mycroft. The agony and worry that shot through him when he got the phone call that informed him that his brother was in the hospital and the doctors didn't know if he would survive had no precedent.
Mycroft had run as he had never before, too frazzled to call his limousine, the only thought in his mind was that Sherlock was in danger. His little brother, the one he had went through hell to keep safe, had almost killed himself.
When Mycroft arrived and was taken to his brother's room, his immaculate state was a thing of the past. Sitting on the chair next to his brother's bed, he brushed Sherlock's bangs out of his face. "Sherlock…" He whispered and a tear left his eyes and fell on the other's face.
Hearing a groan, his eyes immediately snapped to his brother's face. He watched as Sherlock struggled to open his eyes. "Mycroft?" His brother immediately helped Sherlock stand up. "How are you feeling Sherlock?" Mycroft asked gently. "Hurts."
Mycroft kissed Sherlock's forehead in comfort. "Sorry little brother, you can't have something for that, it is because you are going through a withdrawal." Tears escaped Sherlock's eyes. "I am so sorry big brother, I shouldn't have started doing drugs, but… they shut down my mind…" "Shh. It's ok. I will be right here with you till it ends."
Sherlock closed his eyes and let sleep take him once again. He was sixteen at the time and Mycroft knew he shouldn't let Sherlock live with his parents anymore. They obviously weren't fit to raise their troubled child. And so, Mycroft took Sherlock to his home.
Maybe Sherlock was a source of great tribulation but he was also a source of great happiness.