Right so here's the second chapter. Remember Sherlock is 16 and Mycroft 23.

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Sherlock only smoked pot when his brain got too loud, which was quite often. However the numbness and calmness that came with the effect usually lasted for a couple of days and that was all he needed.

Mycroft knew that his brother was taking some kind of drug but he did not have the heart to tell him to stop, he looked happy and was so charming when he was under the effect of said drug, for a while his baby brother was back, lovable always smiling and laughing just like when they were little kids. Mycroft did not want it to stop but he was sure that he could stop it from escalating.

Soon the holidays were over and Sherlock was back to school, he still hated it but it was so much more bearable. He could still deduce things about people just by glancing at them but the information was quickly discarded as unnecessary and therefore promptly forgotten.

"Oi, freak!" Sherlock turned around "where do you think you're going?" three kids were making his way towards him

"Home" 'The state of his hair and clothes indicate that his mother is dead or he has a bad housemaid, his father started drinking, ok, mother's dead. His older brother is… crap! What was it? Something about his mother, right! Dead.' Sherlock tried to smile pleasantly.

"No you ain't, you still have not paid for ratting us out"

"Oh for god's sake" Sherlock dropped his bag on the floor, he had already tried to reason with Tim and his gang once but it was impossible since, through Sherlock's eyes, these kids were not rational beings "Three against one? Your mummy would be so disappointed Timmy"

"What did you say?"

"Trying to beat me up won't stop your father's drinking and it will certainly not make your brother like you" Sherlock smiled

"Shut up!" You could see Tim was getting angry but he did not move

"C'mon Tim, want us to take him?" said the smallest of the group

"Oh yes please! Put me up against little Johnny"

"That's it you fuck!" And with that the three boys launched themselves against Sherlock.

Of course Sherlock had expected a violent response, especially after he had spurred them on, they were angry and therefore it was fair to expect imprecise easy to stop attacks, but his movements seemed to have slowed and soon he was pinned to the floor with Tim looking down at him.

"Take it back freak" Sherlock was disorientated he must have hit his head at some point. He closed his eyes. 'Injury assessment: Bruised ribs, mild concussion, bruised face'. "Take it back!" he kicked Sherlock right in the face 'Dislocated jaw, fractured cheekbone.'

"Piss off" the impact was lessened given the fact that he could barely speak through his bloody mouth.

Sherlock was about to say something else when suddenly Tim and his gang ran off and he was left lying on the mud unable to move properly and wondering what had made the run off 'When did it start raining?' . He heard a car pulling over and he raised his head slightly trying to turn over, he managed to see a pair of shoes and the tip of an umbrella "Mycroft" he whispered and let his head fall and closed his eyes. Mycroft crouched next to his brother.

"Sherlock? I need you to wake up" he patted his brother's face gently "C'mon 'Lock" Sherlock opened his eyes at the sound of his childhood nickname "Can you stand?" Sherlock gave a nearly imperceptible nod and subsequently failed miserably to stand. Mycroft snapped his fingers and the driver stepped out of the car, with his help they managed to get Sherlock into the car "Nearest A&E please" Sherlock grunted, his mouth was hanging loose and although Mycroft could see the pain Sherlock was in, he could not help but smirk "You do realise that you have a dislocated jaw right?" Mycroft chuckled and turned to find a pair of silvery eyes glaring at him "I'll need to set that, at least" he said pointing at his jaw Sherlock nodded "Stop around here. I'm sorry Sherlock, put your head back"

Sherlock half smiled, he knew it was going to be painful. Mycroft grabbed a lot of tissue paper and put his thumbs inside his brother's mouth, he looked up to warn Sherlock of what was coming and pushed down and back, hard. Sherlock screamed, the pain was nearly unbearable and you had to believe him when he said that he had done everything in his power to stop himself from shouting out. There was a light 'pop' on the left side of his face but he could still feel half of his jaw hanging loose. Mycroft shot another apologetic look at his brother before pressing down until the right side was set; he carefully extracted his hands from his brother's mouth and sighed. Sherlock was panting, his eyes closed and his mouth closed "Fuck" he whispered and then passed out.

Sherlock woke up a few hours later; he was in a bed but not his bed which could only lead him to believe that this was Mycroft's house and that mummy would be very, very upset. He assessed his injuries again, his right cheekbone was swollen and so was his jaw, his ribs seemed to be ok, only bruised. Sherlock walked around the house just to find it completely empty 'of course, Mycroft's taking over the world, stupid' he went to find his school bag and took something out of it, then, he stepped out to the back yard and lit up his cigarette, he stayed there until Mycroft found him, he had already gone through a pack and was just opening the next one before his brother came to stand next to him "Can you spare one?" Sherlock looked up surprised and tried to talk but his jaw hurt so he had to settle with nodding and passing a cigarette, his lighter and shooting an inquisitive look in his brother's direction "I had a bad day" he said, taking a drag "I had to reset my stupid little brother's jaw because he can't seem to be able to keep himself out of trouble"

"He started" Sherlock's voice was barely above a whisper

"And I'm sure you did nothing but stand there trying to persuade them that violence is not the answer"

"Sort of" Mycroft chuckled "How did you-?"

"CCTV, mummy said that the other day you didn't go home until it was very late and I promised to keep an eye out for you" Sherlock looked annoyed "Lucky you!" he said sarcastically "By the way, I told mummy that I was helping you with an essay and that you would be staying with me for a few days until you finished. I don't think mummy would like to see you like this" Sherlock turned away

"Thanks My" he said and then walked away.

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