Disclaimer: Not mine.
A/N: So, so sorry for not posting sooner. I know it was horrible of me to leave the story hanging for so long, but now it is completed... six months after I started it. Thank you to all of you who stuck with me (even when it looked like I had abandoned you). I hope you enjoyed!
It takes a bit of doing, but Mycroft is able to figure something out. He always does.
Through extensive negotiations and promises and a promotion, Mycroft is able to keep the situation quiet and work out an arrangement that has the potential to keep Sherlock both clean and out of jail. As penance for his wrongs, he arranges for Sherlock to work as a consultant for Scotland Yard under the direct supervision of the very detective who arrested him, the now Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade. He will assist with as many cases as the DI sees fit, and will be called upon to help when cases become too much for Scotland Yard to handle.
Sherlock snorts at this.
Mycroft levels him with a gaze before continuing. He explains to his brother that he will not be paid for this position; rather, it will be a community service of sorts. Mycroft also informs him that until such time as he can find some other sort of paid employment, he will be glad to help him out, supplying him with a flat (since he knows that Sherlock will not consent to live with him, and Mycroft does not want that either, truthfully) as well as a modest allowance.
Sherlock glares at him, sneering that he does not need his big brother's charity.
Mycroft gently reminds him that, yes, in fact, he does.
It's a highly unorthodox situation, Mycroft agrees, but when it comes to Sherlock, an unorthodox solution was necessary. However, it is Mycroft's hope that both parties will benefit from this arrangement – Scotland Yard will be able to utilize Sherlock's mind and Sherlock will finally have the stimulation and puzzles he craves. His brother is brilliant. In spite of everything, Mycroft still believes that fact with all his heart. But now, he knows that there is no limit to what Sherlock will do to engage that brilliance, to keep his mind alert and active. His only goal is to stay one step ahead of Sherlock's boredom and if this is what he needs to do to keep him clean, then so be it.
He will not abandon him again.
Despite being in no place to do so, Sherlock pouts and refuses to accept the situation. He moans about being forced to working with the police, about how they are so regimented and rule-driven they are, about how they are despised him when he was only an analyst at St. Bart's, about how they will hate him so much more now and no doubt treat him even worse.
"I was just arrested, you know."
Mycroft assures him that anyone who steps out of line will have to answer directly to him.
Yet, even as Sherlock huffs and complains, Mycroft can tell that some small part of him is secretly intrigued by the idea. Sherlock has never been able to resist a good mystery and Mycroft has handed him an unlimited supply of them.
They reach a stalemate, in which neither of them is willing to back down, when Mycroft plays his trump card.
"It's either this or jail," he says simply. "Your choice."
Sherlock chooses Scotland Yard.
…
It isn't an easy transition. For any of them.
As expected, Sherlock does not play nice or even make an attempt to get along with his new colleagues. Lestrade does what he can to act as a buffer between his officers and his abrasive new charge, but he can only do so much. Mycroft knows the flack he is taking from his superiors simply because he agreed to this deal, so he offers and extra measure of patience when the Detective Inspector calls him to report on Sherlock's latest behavior.
He wandered off on the crime scene unsupervised!
He insulted my best forensic officer!
He confiscated evidence and refuses to tell anyone what he's doing!
Mycroft apologizes each and every time, offering more and more incentives for the DI to remain involved. If this arrangement falls through, he's not sure what else he will do. Miraculously, Lestrade demands nothing.
"He may be a right prick," the Detective Inspector says, "But even in a week, I've already seen the good that he can do. He's worth the trouble."
Mycroft can only hope that Sherlock as an asset continues to outweigh Sherlock the menace.
…
Though neither of them has ever been overtly fond of get-togethers, Mycroft makes an effort to stop by Sherlock's flat at least once a week, if only to check up on him. It's a small little space, a tiny studio in the heart of London, but it is all his own. Mycroft had been surprised when Sherlock had told him that he no longer required him to provide him with a flat, that he'd found a new place he could afford all on his own. He hadn't expected Sherlock to have acquired enough money so soon and he is half-worried about how Sherlock has been making this quick cash.
The worry causes an argument and, to Mycroft's surprise, he finds that Sherlock has earned the money by taking on odd jobs.
"I started a website," he says, bringing up a page on his laptop. "A blog. The Science of Deduction. Started it on a whim, but it's gotten some notice. Apparently, people require assistance with the oddest of situations. Amazing what they'll pay to have lost things found… Or for you to prove that their spouse is cheating."
Mycroft rolls his eyes.
…
Days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months, and months into years.
Though it has been half a decade since Sherlock was released from rehab, Mycroft still keeps a close eye on his brother. He doesn't visit as often as he should anymore, but he knows when he is not wanted. Sherlock has cobbled together a little life of his own – working with Scotland Yard and running his blog and just generally being Sherlock. It's good for him to have his own life – it's what he always wanted – and Mycroft is perfectly content to stay on the fringe, if that's what he wants.
As long as he stays clean, that is. It is an unspoken agreement between them – enforced on Mycroft's side – that if Sherlock starts using, there will be consequences. To Mycroft's considerable knowledge (which includes varying levels of surveillance), Sherlock has never completely slipped back into his old habits. There have been scares, as well as a suspected usage or two, but Mycroft has learned over the years what makes him especially vulnerable, and he knows what to look for in his brother's behavior. On the "danger nights" as Mycroft likes to call them, when Sherlock is tempted to use again, he makes sure Sherlock is not alone. He doesn't expect his brother to be perfect, but neither does he expect that he is strong enough to battle his demons on his own. Addiction is a dark and never-ending battle, one Mycroft won't allow Sherlock to lose, not while it is in his power to do so.
…
Nothing good can last forever, though.
As much progress as Sherlock as made, Mycroft can see that he is growing restless. He knows that his everyday routine is starting to bore him and a bored Sherlock is never a good thing. Yes, the cases are always fresh, but he is becoming better and better at solving them, and they are starting to lose some of their appeal. The detectives at Scotland Yard are less and less impressed with him and he grows tired of dealing with their fragile intellects and egos, as he puts it. It's gotten to the point where he flat-out refuses to work with some of Lestrade's men.
Yet for all his restlessness, Mycroft can see that Sherlock is trying. He plays his violin more. He throws himself into his cases at Scotland Yard. He works on his website incessantly. His latest project seems to involve tobacco ash, although to what end, Mycroft has no idea.
Despite all that, he can still tell that something is missing from Sherlock's life. Mycroft wishes he knew what it is he wants, that he could provide that for him, but the truth is that Sherlock is an adult now. He is more than capable of figuring out what he needs and obtaining it.
Mycroft can only hope that he finds what he is looking for before it's too late.
…
That something comes sooner than Mycroft anticipates.
He's not quite sure how to respond when he finds out that Sherlock has not only found a new flat – a spacious old thing on Baker Street in Central London – and but a new flatmate.
Captain John Watson of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers. Army medical doctor recently returned to London after a tour in Afghanistan. No… Invalided to London. The mystery deepens.
He wonders what Sherlock is up to. He never does anything without good reason. Yet Mycroft cannot fathom why he has picked a wounded soldier to be his companion. Sympathy isn't his brother's strong suit, nor is general goodwill. No, he's much too jaded for that, after all he's seen and done; they both are – far too damaged to be much good to anyone in the long run.
He wonders if this John Watson has any idea what he is in for. He wonders if Sherlock does either.
Mycroft makes it his business to find out. If there's one thing he's come to be good at, it's keeping an eye on his brother.