I am very, very sorry for not updating. When I went to plug in my laptop charger it started smoking and sparking so while I waited for a new one I had to use our family computer and try to rewrite this chapter, which might have worked except for the fact that there was always someone else on it. Anyway, charger's here now so will be uploading chapters as soon as possible. Enjoy! Warning for drug use.

And we don't want to go outside tonight
And in a pipe we fly to the Motherland
Or sell love to another man It's too cold outside
For angels to fly

There was too much white.

White ceiling, white floors, white bed, white clothes. Sherlock felt like someone had hit him over the head with a hammer and all the blinding white wasn't helping the matter. He could hear a steady beeping coming from the right of him and shoes squeaking on polished floors in the distance. It didn't take a genius to guess that he was in a hospital.

He tried recalling the events of last night but everything was a mix of colour and shapes, mixing together to form incoherent pictures. He could remember nothing but the feeling of euphoria he felt once the drug had entered his system, and he wanted more. He opened his eyes fully instead of squinting them against the harsh light and saw Mycroft was sitting in a chair to the left of his bed. He hurriedly closed his eyes again and pretended to be asleep but Mycroft saw easily through it. "Good afternoon dear brother." He said. Sherlock could hear the sarcastic smile in his voice. He opened his eyes and looked at his brother, who was sitting straight backed on the hard plastic chair, umbrella twirling in his hand.

"Had a good sleep?" Mycroft asked sarcastically.
"As drug induced comas go, yes." Sherlock replied, annoyed at the croakiness of his voice. Mycroft's eyes hardened as he pointed to the chart at the end of his bed.
"You overdosed on cocaine last night, you had to be rushed here to have your stomach pumped or you would have died. Anything you want to say about that?" He said, anger creeping into his voice.
"I've had worse nights." Sherlock said airily, and was pleased to see Mycroft's eyes narrow as he tried to figure out if he was bluffing or not.

Mycroft started to lecture him about the stupidity and idiocy of his actions leading Sherlock to drift off into a daydream. He started to formulate plans about how to gain more of the pleasure inducing substances, promising to himself that he would be extremely careful to not let Mycroft get involved. He looked up at Mycroft mid rant and noticed how much he resembled an irate bullfrog. The image made him snicker which led Mycroft to stop his rambling and fix Sherlock with an extremely icy glare.
"If you find it so very funny dear brother, perhaps I should put you under surveillance until I am convinced you aren't going to kill yourself." Mycroft told him, a glint in his eye as he saw the outrage in Sherlock's face.
"You will do no such thing!" He exclaimed.
"Well you obviously cannot be trusted to look after yourself." Mycroft stated. He softened his tone slightly before continuing. "Whatever you choose to believe Sherlock, I do care about you."
"You lost the right to care long ago." Sherlock spat. "I would like to be left alone now." Mycroft began to argue but Sherlock cut him off. "Do you want me to call a nurse to remove you?"

Even though Mycroft knew Sherlock probably wouldn't call the nurse, and even if he did they would be easily convinced to let him stay, he heeded Sherlock's advice and left, leaving Sherlock alone.

He returned to his dorm the next day, craving the drugs even more. Everything felt so much more sluggish and grey without them. He opened his dorm door to a concerned Victor.
"Hey mate, you all right?" He asked, his expression pityingly worried.
"Of course, nothing serious." Sherlock said as he dropped down onto his bed.
Victor decided not to comment on the obvious lie and instead muttered something along the lines of "Well if you need anything…" He turned back to his laptop, oblivious to Sherlock's stares as he tried to figure out how to approach the subject.
"Victor." He said. The boy looked up. "Do you have any more?" He knew what he meant by this and hesitated.
"Well…I don't really think you should have any more mate." He replied, deliberately avoiding eye contact with him. Sherlock eyes narrowed.
"And why not?" He demanded.
"I wouldn't want you ending up in hospital again do I?" He answered as if it was obvious.
"I'll be more careful this time." Sherlock told him. He opened his mouth to argue but Sherlock got there first "And, I will pay £50 instead of £20." He added and was pleased to see Victor's eyes widen at the offer. He licked his lips nervously before going into his cupboard and producing a bag of white powder.
"Just be careful, okay?" He said nervously as he handed the bag over and pocketed the note Sherlock gave him in return.

Sherlock continued to purchase drugs off of Victor until he dropped out of university, though he was not hard to replace. Sherlock would look back on him however and wonder if the university had decided to select a different roommate for him he wouldn't have went down the path in life he did. He supposed he would have probably found the form of escape on his own in due time, but a small part of him couldn't help but think that if a certain loud-mouthed boy hadn't let his roommate join in the fun on a whim, years of pain could have been prevented.

Hope you liked :) thank you to bruderlein, phanpiggy, eohippus and Maddi Paige for reviewing! :D