New chapter! I decided to skip some years for the plot's sake, Sherlock is 19 Mycroft 28. Enjoy!

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Sherlock had just left for university again and Mycroft knew that his brother was up to something, the way in which he had left, no arguments no silly faces just a smile for Mummy and a witty remark for Mycroft, left him wondering. The nineteen-year-old was not enjoying University and still he had left without causing a scene like the last time he was home, when he threatened to leave uni and go to Barcelona. Was his brother really growing up? Mycroft is not the kind of man who could leave such a question unanswered and so he had his little brother followed; a simple phone call was enough.

Sherlock would wonder around the halls and green areas of the university hoping to find something to occupy his mind, but there was nothing; everybody was so dull and predictable, there was only one person with whom Sherlock enjoyed himself. Jay Reed, a philosophy student who married his high school sweetheart and then had cheated on her with her sister, he was quite smart, quiet and he behaved as if he wanted to know how Sherlock's mind worked. They did not talk much; the afternoons would pass by with Jay reading a book and Sherlock staring into the abyss. There was only another thing that they shared and that was their love for the high, they would take almost anything to get that noodle-y sensation and the pleasure, so unfathomably big and delicious. Heroin was their favourite and Sherlock enjoyed cocaine as well, he would often mix them to get the opposite sensations at the same time.

Jay and Sherlock would go to one of the apartments near the university and meet up with a dealer and half a dozen other people (mostly students) who wanted to get high and away from everything. They would go regularly, as much as five times a day and the place would never be empty. They would go in, sit down, roll up their sleeve and get the hit. Sherlock always used his own needle which he kept in a special brown pouch that was hidden under his bed.

Sherlock took his spot next to the window and shot the load into his arm. He gasped, the rush did not take long to overcome him, he was in ecstasy all rational thought was driven from his mind and for once he was happy, he was normal.

Mycroft sat in his office, looking over the pictures that had just arrived. Sherlock was doing heroin, Mycroft knew that it was not past his brother to do something stupid, but this? This was way too much; he had to do something about that now, before it was too late. The last thing he wanted to do was to bury his brother after an overdose, he would be losing so much. It was decided, he went out on the street and into the car that was waiting for him, the driver already knew where to go and Mycroft sat in the back thinking about what he was going to say.

The ride was not long and soon Mycroft was standing at Sherlock's dorm door. A lanky boy opened the door "what's up?"

"Is Sherlock in?" The boy nodded and stepped aside. The room was a complete mess, there were clothes and leftovers everywhere, you could barely see the floor and the stench was incredible.

"He's over there" Jay pointed at a still form curled up in the bed

"Ta" Mycroft stepped closer "Sherlock" he looked asleep but his eyes were wide open and his breathing slow "Sherlock!" he said louder, Sherlock nearly jumped out of bed.

"Christ" he looked over at Mycroft "To what do I owe this pleasure?" Sherlock's eyes were red and slightly unfocused, you could tell that he had not shaved or even showered in a few days.

"We need to talk about your recreational habits"

"Jay, would you mind stepping out?" He said and a few seconds later he heard the door close "You had me followed, interesting" his eyes narrowed

"You have to stop, you cannot be this stupid. It will kill you" Mycroft's voice was steady and his face was a mask

"Well it hasn't" Much to his surprise Sherlock smiled "Gaining weight again, Mycroft?"

"Shut up! This is not about me -"

"So you are!" Sherlock's eyes narrowed again "Why are you here Mycroft? To tell me to stop? You know that I won't listen to you, so why bother? Are you feeling guilty Mycroft? Or do you simply feel the need to stick your nose in my business? What is it?" he jumped off the bed "How is it that you think that everything I do concerns you?"

"I'm your brother!" His voice rose

"Yeah, well that doesn't make you my keeper! I can do whatever the fuck I like, get it?" Mycroft gaped, bile rising in his throat "What is it? You know it's true but you just can't accept it" he snapped, before he knew it his fist had collided with his little brother's face.

"Can't you see that I care? I'm concerned and you only stand there..." Sherlock threw himself at his brother and pinned him down in one swift move

"Caring is a disadvantage Mycroft"

"Get off" Sherlock did so and went back to his bed. Mycroft took a few seconds to compose himself before walking out.

A few months later Mycroft received a phone call from his mother, apparently Sherlock had dropped out of university weeks before and nobody could find him or his roommate, she was crying and Mycroft was trying to calm her down "Promise me you'll find him, please, you've always looked out for him, find him"

"I will mummy, I promise. Don't worry too much" The call ended and Mycroft was left to his thoughts. He hated what Sherlock was doing despite trying to look as if he did not care, he could not help it, he was his little brother, the kid who had wanted to be a pirate when he was nine and a detective when he was twelve, when had his brother deviated? Mycroft sighed and asked his assistant to put the coordinator of the MI5 on the line "My dear Wilson, I need your services"

It had been three months and there was still no trace of Sherlock or Jay anywhere, Mycroft's hopes of finding his brother alive were dimming with each passing hour of staring to the CCTV footage and not seeing his brother, the reports said nothing new and he was starting to look for the morgue reports. His phone rang and he picked it up after only two rings.

"Hello?"

Sherlock was somewhere in London bent over a silver casing, he inhaled and sat up, his nose was full of a white powder and he wiped it lazily, the rush did not come it was becoming hard to get the same high, Sherlock grunted and took out his syringe, he filled it with heroin and immediately shot it up his arm. He was falling, falling deeper and deeper; his heart was beating faster and faster every second, his back arched as he struggled to breathe and suddenly he was falling again, his heartbeat was slower and for the first time since he started using drugs he felt dizzy and nauseous, he had taken too much 'Shit' he was weak "Jay?" there was no answer, Sherlock looked around and spotted Jay's figure, he was not moving or breathing "Fuck" he whispered, his head snapped up 'The phone! Where's the phone, think for fuck's sake, think! Table by the door" it was only a few meters away, surely he could manage it. He crawled to it he really did not want to die in this hell hole, when he reached it he dialled the first number that came to his head.

"Hello?" came the voice at the other end. He tried to speak but he could not manage, he was panting "Sherlock?" even in his weakened state Sherlock had to smile "Where are you?"

"King's cross" he took a deep breath as he struggled to keep the nausea at bay "I took too much" he vomited

"Sherlock, don't hang up I'm pulling your location. Stay awake" Mycroft could hear his brother shaky breaths and then the phone dropped, the line went dead.

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That's it for today! Leave reviews and tell me what you think.