His pale hands flicked the lighter out of his coat pocket with ease and grace. Lifting it to the cigarette that was clenched in his teeth, he coaxed a flame from inside it's plastic shell while shielding the flame from the wind with a spare hand.
He took a deep breath and then let the smoke curl out of his mouth in tendrils and curls. A small satisfied albeit nervous grin reached his face.
Sherlock really did try not to smoke, after all with both his brother and John constantly scolding him about how he treated his body it was easier to give in. Still, sometimes he slipped. It could be something as simple as just wanting a smoke without any reason at all, or it could be because he was sad or worried or bored. This time it was the worry that got to him.
Sherlock always thought that if any of them ever got hurt it would be because of his hubris, because of his never ending puzzles. Yet all it took to pull the world out from under his feet was a stupid drunk man behind the wheel. Sherlock hadn't even been there, John had been coming home after shopping and wasn't even far from the flat when a car swerved through the street. The witnesses said that they didn't even stop, they just flew on by.
Sherlock shifted slightly, his back was pressed against the wall and he was working his way through his third cigarette. He could hear the sirens of incoming ambulances and the night air chilled him even through his thick coat.
"Don't you have somewhere better to be?"
Sherlock closed his eyes so that he wouldn't roll them, then turned to face his brother.
"Mycroft." He said more as a statement than a greeting.
"I heard what happened. Have they let you in to see him yet?" Mycroft asked, joining his brother against the wall. Sherlock glared at Mycroft, because his brother knew the obvious answer to that question.
"Don't pester me with casual conversation, brother. You know that I wouldn't be out here if I could be in there." Sherlock gave an angry puff of smoke, looking for all the world like a dragon with his tail in a twist. "I'd wait inside but what with it being a hospital they wouldn't let me smoke."
"If...there's anything I can do." Mycroft choked out awkwardly, and Sherlock almost chuckled.
"Neither of us is very good at sympathy. Let's not do this." He replied. The two Holmes brothers stood in silence for a moment, both of them observing the movement in the night. Then Mycroft turned back to Sherlock to speak again.
"You know he'd hate to see you doing that." He commented, his voice holding a certain level of distaste.
"Well he isn't seeing it." Sherlock took another drag which was abruptly cut off as his brother plucked it from his lips and crushed it under foot.
"He doesn't need you acting like a child either, Sherly." Mycroft chastised, adding Sherlock's childhood pet name to further irritate him. "You know that."
Sherlock sent his brother a withering look and folded his arms over his chest.
"Now, why don't you head inside and see if they've made any progress, hm?" Mycroft gestured towards the doors. Sherlock took one step forward and then sighed and turned to his brother.
"Caring is not an advantage, right?" He chuckled. "Mycroft, I'm scared."
"I know." Mycroft replied, and Sherlock gave a small nod in his direction before he started off for the doors.