A/N: Hello my lovelies! Sorry updates are slow on this story, but I've been revising for exams which start next week :S Thank you so, so much for your wonderful feedback on the stories so far, they make me very happy :) I hope you like this chapter just as much, and I again apologise for any problems with characterisation.

Warning: Topic of drugs

P.S. I've had a couple of suggestions but I'm still looking for ideas about the last story for this collection (Sherlock standing up for Mycroft) please PM or review with any ideas! :)

Feedback is much loved :) xx

Against The Doctor

Mycroft Holmes was running. He would never call it that of course; he would refer to it as a brisk walk, a purposeful stride, but really it was more than that because he had to get to his destination fast before the whole world fell apart. He took a moment to consider that that might be a tad melodramatic, but his younger brother did oh so love a melodrama.

It had been the early hours of the morning when Mycroft was roused from his rare few hours of sleep to the sound of his shrilling telephone. Important he thought for them to ring at this hour, but not work related or else they would have called my mobile. Since there was only one other real aspect to Mycroft's life at the time which the call could be in regards to, he immediately got up to answer it. Sherlock.

"What has he done now?" Mycroft asked dully and with only a little demand; there was no need for concern just yet.

"Are you Mycroft Holmes?" the person on the other end of the line asked instead of giving a response.

Mycroft rolled his eyes impatiently "Yes"

"Your brother William has just been admitted into St Bartholomew's hospital, we suspect he has suffered from a drug overdose. He's unconscious but we think we've managed to pump the drugs out of his system."

For the first in a long time Mycroft felt his blood run cold and a sudden tremor ran down his hand so he nearly dropped the phone. His little brother was in hospital. He had dreaded the day but supposed it had been inevitable really.

"Sir?" The person on the phone reminded Mycroft he needed his wits about him now.

"I'm on my way" Mycroft said stiffly before hanging up.

With that, he had swiftly changed his clothes and headed out into the cold night to find a cab.

And that was what had ultimately led him to be running down the hospital halls until he found the nurses station.

"I'm looking for…" Mycroft gulped, embarrassed about how breathless he sounded "Sherlock Holmes" he finally said, back in control.

"Ah yes, this way" One of the nurses said and then led Mycroft to his brother's room.

Mycroft did not know what to expect when he saw Sherlock, although the last few times he had seen his younger brother he had not looked well. Sherlock was in his last year at university and quite clearly had not been enjoying the whole experience; he stuck it out from little else to do.

Mycroft knew Sherlock had been having issues with certain legal drugs and cigarettes since he was about 16, and although Mycroft greatly disapproved of his brother's methods of finding an escape, he could not greatly condemn him either. Mycroft himself was living in a world of Goldfish and so understood the boredom and entrapment in his own mind that Sherlock also felt, but on the other hand if Mycroft could cope without drugs then his brother should be able to as well.

Just as Mycroft suspected when they finally got to Sherlock's bed, the younger Holmes looked almost translucent and too skinny to be healthy. His untameable curls were matted over his sweating forehead, but the worst thing for Mycroft was seeing the undoubtable scarring of track marks running threw his little brother's veins in his right arm. Mycroft had to greatly suppress the urge to shudder at the thought.

"Ah, Mr Holmes" someone addressed him.

Mycroft's eyes widened in surprise as he acknowledged for the first time that Sherlock's doctor was also in the room.

Honestly one little overdose and you become that unobservant Sherlock's voice reprimanded him. You really must be worried, how…sentimental of you.

"Shut up" Mycroft mumbled and did not even realise he had spoken out loud until the doctor cleared his throat.

"Excuse me, sir?" he said cautiously.

"Yes, sorry" Mycroft shook his head "What exactly has my brother been doing to himself?" For the first in a long time, Mycroft was not entirely sure that he wanted the answer.

"Well it seems that William…"

"Sherlock" Mycroft immediately interrupted "he likes to be called Sherlock and I'm afraid you and your staff are no exception to that" he insisted.

"Yes, right" the doctor said with a slight frown, not sure what to make of the man before him. "Sherlock has suffered from a cocaine overdose, his roommate came home from university and called 999, your brother was unconscious when the ambulance arrived, close to choking on his own vomit by the looks of it."

Mycroft sighed and closed his eyes for a moment before looking over at the bed but not at his brother; he could not face it, not yet. "Oh Sherlock" he breathed.

"Anyway…" the doctor started up again "we had to immediately pump the drugs out of Sherlock's system so he's still recovering from that, he should wake up anytime now. However, I can't be too sure about lasting damage because judging by the track marks he is a frequent user. From now on he might be prone to tremors, nausea, headaches, and he is most certainly underweight"

Well, one of us should be Sherlock's teasing voice appeared in Mycroft's head once more.

"Shut up" Mycroft growled.

Clearly these apparitions of his brother's voice where part of a deep desire for Mycroft to see his brother up and well again, even if it meant taunting him. Mycroft had always been prone to telling the constantly jabbering boy Sherlock had been to be quiet when they were children, but now he was almost pleading for Sherlock to speak.

"Will he need any further medical help once he is released?" Mycroft inquired, ignoring the doctor's now slightly irritated look.

"No, I'm afraid with drug addict patients it's up to them to do most of the work. I would recommend putting Sherlock into a rehab centre and making sure he has a healthy diet"

"He won't go to a rehab centre" Mycroft mumbled as he looked over at his stubborn brother once more.

"They usually won't" the doctor replied.

"They?" Mycroft asked with a peaked eyebrow and a frown.

"People like your brother" the doctor said with a shrug.

"People like my brother" Mycroft repeated with a sense of outrage. "What exactly are you implying by that?" he asked maybe a little more heatedly than he should have "because to me it sounds like you're placing my brother in the box labelled scum of the earth"

Much to Mycroft's surprise the doctor did not deny this, he simply sighed and held Sherlock's chart to his chest, his arms folded in a guarded manner.

"With all due respect, Mr Holmes, I have to deal with drug users like your brother on a daily basis, and they don't want to be helped. So I hope that you can understand why it bothers me so much that people who want to be helped and who need help are being turned away or taking longer to be seen by me because people like your brother are taking up my time"

The look on Mycroft's face was extremely scandalized. There was a deathly silence as he processed his next move and doctor shuffled his feet nervously; he seemed to know he had crossed a line.

"I appreciate that what my brother is doing is wrong and by no means whatsoever do I condone it" Mycroft spoke calmly but lowly "but my brother is not a bad person, I know that and I will always believe it no matter what he does because he always has reason. Of course, drug use is a vile habit, a stupid slip up, but you don't understand how low he must be feeling in order to stoop to this level"

Mycroft took a step towards the doctor, not in threat but simply to convey the seriousness of the next part of his message; the doctor took a step back in caution anyway.

"Sherlock has been through a lot in his short life, suffered for twenty one years because he is different and people are cruel" Mycroft explained "but he has always persevered up until now. And it is possibly my fault for me making him the way he is, and It's probably my fault too he thought drugs were the only option and that he couldn't come to me for help. So please do not even imply that Sherlock is doing this for the hell of it, he is not solely to blame and he is not a corrupt man"

With that, Mycroft moved to sit in the chair by his brother's bedside and looked up at the doctor expectantly. The man was speechless for a moment, before coughing and returning back to his original professional tone.

"I understand that, sir, but there's nothing more that I can do for him. Sherlock will be discharged tonight…"

"Tonight?" Mycroft practically exclaimed "But he's not even conscious!" had to supress a smile.

"He will be in an hour or so. If you really wish I can also prescribe some anti-nausea pills for the withdrawal period, although I wouldn't recommend giving him more drugs…"

"No, leave them" Mycroft said with a dismissive wave of his hand "but if I find out that you have not been giving my brother full treatment because of the reasons you previously stated you will face the consequences"

The doctor bristled a little and straightened his posture "I assure you sir that I am a professional and I will treat my patients to the best of my ability no matter what"

"Good" Mycroft said with an obviously faked grin "and I appreciate you helping my brother in these circumstances. Now, if you would be so kind as to leave us"

The doctor gave one sharp nod before rather speedily leaving the room. Mycroft let out a huff of air as he sat back in the chair and crossed his legs one over the other, hands folded in his lap and attention now clearly on Sherlock.

"There, I admitted it's partly my fault, are you happy now?" Mycroft asked his brother's still form.

"It will do for now" Sherlock replied as he opened his eyes "how long did it take you to realise I was awake?"

"As soon I stepped in the room" Mycroft said "ever since you were a baby you've slept facing the right, but now you're facing the left"

"It's weird that you know you that, you've been watching me sleep" Sherlock said and Mycroft just smirked at him.

"Perhaps, but still it's not the weirdest thing I know about you" he teased and Sherlock's eyes momentarily widened.

"Well, the fact you kept telling me to shut up even though you knew I was awake and not saying anything clearly indicates I got to you anyway" Sherlock said almost smugly.

"Why do you keep doing this, Sherlock?" Mycroft finally asked in all seriousness, ignoring his brother's attempt to try and make him admit to worry.

Sherlock sighed "Like you said, I find it hard to cope sometimes. All my life you're the only person I've felt has well… tolerated me, and you would help me if I needed it. I didn't feel you would this time though"

There was a sudden pang of unwanted guilt in Sherlock's stomach when he identified the flash of sadness which crossed Mycroft's eyes when he said that. It was so unlike the both of them to be so…expressive. It might have actually seemed quite inexpressive to most people given the context, but not to the Holmes brothers.

"Sherlock, I understand that I haven't been there a lot for you over the past few years because I've been focusing on my career, but that doesn't mean I ever forgot you" Mycroft explained.

"Well of course, how could you ever forget me?" Sherlock frowned and Mycroft smiled for the slightest moment.

"I mean I should have called and visited more often, but you could have done the same" the older brother pointed out.

Sherlock sighed once more like a scolded child "I know, I mean it's not…entirely your fault…probably more so mine in fact"

"Why thank you" Mycroft said sarcastically, but realised that was probably going to be as close to a confession of responsibility as he was ever going to get from Sherlock. "But, if you need help then just ask me"

"I did, sort of" Sherlock mumbled "You're my emergency contact, Mycroft, the hospital called you first. If that doesn't say I need you more than anyone then…" he trailed off, realising he was being far too sentimental about the whole situation. "I'm tired" he mumbled again as an excuse.

"I'm sure" Mycroft said, deciding to not make his brother feel embarrassed; just this once though. "You'll be coming to stay with me for a few days of course"

"What? Mycroft" Sherlock groaned, stretching out his brother's name "I don't need you to baby sit me!"

"No arguments or do you actually want to go to a rehabilitation centre?" Mycroft threatened.

"No!" the younger Holmes exclaimed.

"I thought as much" Mycroft smirked. "You're going to get clean Sherlock; I trust you won't let me down after everything I've said today"

"I'll try" Sherlock muttered.

Mycroft sighed "That's all I ask" he replied "For now…"