"John Watson... John Watson..." Sherlock mumbles in his sleep. He hasn't left Sherlock's side ever since they brought him in the hospital. Anthea - which is her name for the week - helps him get all that he need: clothes, food, reminders, all that. He knows his brother needs to talk to John Watson. Even he himself hasn't seen John ever since he first kidnapped him. But for now, he stops the idea of kidnapping him and dragging him here. Sherlock needs to clean up his own mess.

He has lots of things to talk about. He cares for his brother. He's his family. 'Speaking of family... Better call the parents...'

"Siger Holmes." His father says in the other line.

"It's me..."

"Mycroft, is that you? You haven't called me in ages! How's work?"

"Fine, I suppose... Listen... There's something I have to tell you..."

"What is it?" his father asks, concerned.

"It's Sherlock..."

"What about him?"

"We found him."

"Oh? You did?"

"Yes... He's in the hospital now..."

"The hospital? What happened? Did he get in a fight?"

"He does have plenty of old bruises and scars, yes. But no, that's not why he's in hospital..."

"What is it?"

"He overdosed..."

"..."

"He flatlined as well..."

He doesn't hear anything from the other line. 'God, he's furious. Which would mean mummy would be as furious as he... Two peas in a pod.'

"I have a plan..." He starts to tell his father what he has in mind for Sherlock and his father patiently listens, not saying a word...

"Alright. I think we can manage that..." His father replies after he tells him his plan.

"Great."

"Nice to talk to you, son. But I was hoping you'd call us to check up on us. Not like this..."

"I promise to call more..."

"Alright... Goodbye..."

He hangs up and sits on the chair beside Sherlock again. He receives a text from Anthea.

'Brought you some food, sir.
May I come in?
- Anthea'

'Yes, you may.
M'

Anthea comes in with a tray and puts it on the table beside him. Then she goes on her phone, "Cancelled your meetings for the rest of the day."

"Yes, thank you."

And she leaves the room, giving the brothers their privacy.

Sherlock wakes up. 'Finally.' he thinks. Those eyes of Sherlock's open, bit off and then there he is, deducing. He's proud of him but he would NEVER say that out loud. Sherlock finally looks at him. "Welcome back," he whispers at Sherlock and he realises that it sounds a bit menacing. But too late to change the tone.

"Back from where?"

"The dead."

Sherlock scoffs, "Absurd."

"Absurd?" He raises his brow. 'It's difficult to keep my tone down.' "You flatlined, stupid."

"I'm not stupid!"

"You're a very stupid boy! Mummy and daddy are crossed!" he says loudly, but not loud enough to be heard outside.

'Did he just flinch?... No... Ridiculous... This is my brother... My ridiculous eyes and their silly illusions...'

"Oh who cares?" Sherlock tells him.

He sighs. "By the time you are discharged, I'm sending you back home."

"God," Sherlock sulkily replies.

"It's for your own good. You should've thought of the consequences before you started... it..." He cannot even think of saying the word, 'drugs.' It makes him sick knowing his brother is a junkie. A homeless junkie for months.

"Not my fault," Sherlock shrugs.

"Then whose fault is it?" He challenges.

Sherlock pauses to think, "I'll think of someone..."

"Yes, you'll think of someone... Like a certain friend of yours..."

"I don't have friends."

"And what do you call John Watson? Your boyfriend?"

Sherlock gives him a look. "We were never a couple. And he and I are not friends," Sherlock rolls his eyes. He keeps silent, looking at his umbrella which he is using to hold his weight, like his cane. "What?" Sherlock suddenly says. Irritated.

"Nothing."

"I know that silence. What?"

"Well I'd better let you recover. You still have to get through all this, haven't you?"

"What?"

"The family will probably be the only one to keep you company."

"Mycroft!"

"That's what people do, Sherlock. They move on. I warn you. Don't get involved."

"I'm not involved!"

"No."

"Watson asked me to help him with school work, how could I say no?"

"Absolutely."

"I'm not involved."

"I believe you. Really I do. Have a lovely time in the hospital, Sherlock. Keep calm and do try to rest."

"I will," Sherlock closes his eyes.

"Oh, by the way, Sherlock?" Sherlock raises his brow, still with his eyes closed. "Do you remember... Redbeard?"

Sherlock's eyes snap open in an instant. He blinks a few times, 'Subconsciously tightening his jaw. Clenching his fist. I struck a cord... Good.'

Sherlock looks at him. "I'm not a child anymore, Mycroft," a whisper.

"No, of course you're not. Enjoy not getting involved." And he leaves his room but secretly stays outside. He doesn't want his brother knowing how worried he has been. He'll never hear the end of it.

They arrive. He scoffs. Of all places, it had to be the house. The door is opened for him and he climbs out. Their parents are walking towards the car. They look at him and their eyes scream "Murder!"

'Now I need Mycroft to distract them before they unleash all hell.' Turning around, Mycroft doesn't come out of the car.

He taps the window and it rolls down. "Aren't you coming?" he asks Mycroft.

"There's a red alert at work. I have to be there in ten minutes," Mycroft answers, checking his watch.

"But how will I explain-"

"This is your fault. You need to be responsible like a decent human being. You'll probably deserve the punishment mummy and daddy will give you."

"But-"

"This is your punishment, Sherlock."

"Mycroft-"

"Let's go," Mycroft tells the driver and off he goes.

The footsteps stop behind him. 'Uh-oh.'

"So the prodigal son finally decided to come back home," Siger says and eyes him, "You're in a lot of trouble."

"Chores. Two hours of sleep only. No contact," Violet pointedly tells him. "We'll put bars on your window and add a lock on the outside of your door. We'll use a sliding lock so you wouldn't be able to open it. No dinner at all, not until you're dead. And no, not even dog food." She continues as they all walk in the manor. They reach the door.

"Get in the house. Now." Siger orders him. His legs are trembling beneath him. Siger steps forward threateningly and whispering like the threatening evil son of a bitch that he is. "I. Said. Now."

He runs inside the manor. Siger, running after him. He hears Violet yell, "Sweetie! Don't draw too much blood! The carpet is brand new!" He runs faster.

He goes around the house, trying to find the perfect spot. A shiver runs through his spine as he hears his father yell, "Violet! Where's the poker? It's not beside the fireplace!"

"It's right between the fireplace and the chair! Use the old one! The new one is the black metallic one!"

"Okay!"

'How can they be so casual about hitting me with a fireplace poker?! Oh right... Because I deserve this! I shouldn't have called Mycroft when I overdosed! Stupid high me!'

He runs faster but in the end, his father manages to reach him and hits the side of his body with the poker. He moans in pain as he falls on the ground.

'If he stabs me, I'm free. Just stab me!'

Siger tuts, "Pathetic. You can be killed easily. Stupid move, running through the library. I know every inch of the manor."

Siger swings his poker and hits him twice. The pointy end of the poker doesn't make contact.

'Stab me instead! Stab me instead!'

"Now..." Siger hits him twice with the poker and drops it. "No. This doesn't feel right. I'm not amused at all," Siger puts a foot on his head to keep him in place and undoes his belt. Siger ties his belt around his hand. "This however..."

Siger swings and hits him with the belt with more force than usual. He shouts. The belt's buckle hits him. He shouts.

Siger slaps him hard in the face, "SHUT UP!"

Siger hits him multiple times with the belt.

"You. De. Serve. This. Treat. Ment." Siger hits with every word.

Siger removes his shirt hits him with the belt. "STOP!" He cries. Siger turns him around and hits him multiple times with the belt. "NO!" He shouts as the direct hits bite his skin. He can feel himself bleeding. After about twenty more hits, Siger turns him around to face him again and starts hitting him with the belt again. He screams at the top of his voice but no one can hear him. Their house is the largest.

Siger starts punching him over and over and over until he is out of breath, moaning in pain.

'I shouldn't have called Mycroft. I should have let the overdose kill me and die.'

Siger puts a hand on his neck and starts punching him in the face with the other hand... Punching him with every word. "I. DON'T. WANT. A. JUNKIE. FOR. A. SON."

"Please..." He begs.

Siger forces him to stand up by holding his neck and slams him to the wall. "So you're begging now?"

"Can't... Breathe..." He tries to remove his father's grip on his neck but his father is too strong. "Stop..."

Siger tightens his grip and gives him another punch and he falls on the ground as Siger kicks him once... twice... thrice...

And the last though in his mind, 'I should have at least told John that I'm sorry for existing.'

Black.