I. August 15, 2014

Another ceremony to commemorate the 100th anniversary of the beginning of the Great War. Computer security leak in national train database. Newspaper magnate C.A. Magnussen being investigated for undue influence over the Prime Minister, and my little brother has started abusing drugs again.

II.

The surveillance cameras show it clearly. Sherlock entering a drug den. Why is my brother so predictably self destructive? So soon after John Watson's wedding and he is back to his old ways.

Caring isn't an advantage. As if I need another reminder of that.

Time to search his flat, but I can't use the police. Lestrade would have to send him to jail if he found evidence of the drugs that I am sure are at there. Who can I get to search that trash heap who might be able to...yes. That would work.

III.

Police internal report. Phillip Charles Anderson. Forensic officer. Discharged. Leaking information. Paranoia. Founder of Sherlock Holmes fan club, The Empty Hearse. Home phone, personal phone. Yes.

IV.

"Hello, who is this? This is my private number."

"Mr. Anderson. This is Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock Holmes' older brother and I have a job for you and your...club if you are interested. I need you to search Sherlock's apartment for drugs. Will you be available?"

"Yesss!"

"Then meet me outside of his flat in one hour."

.

The phone rings

"Mycroft Holmes? Are you there?"

"John, so good to hear from you."

"Did you know that Sherlock is using again?"

"I have just been informed."

"Could you send someone to search the flat. I want it all gone by the time that we get there."

"I am already ahead of you."

"Good. Thank You."

"No thank you for watching out for Sherlock. It is always a pleasure to speak with you."

" Ah...well...goodbye."

"Goodbye John."

II.

John Watson, straight and to the point. How I respect military precision. It seems that we will be meeting again soon.

Sherlock and drugs, an unfortunately recurring conjunction. I had hoped that it was just a phase. No, I had hoped that he had been cured of the need for them. After he had met John Watson, his love affair with cocaine had seemed to wane. But that was to be expected. John is a doctor. He would never have stood for Sherlock's addictions.

I remember a time when John could control Sherlock with a touch and a whispered word. He directed him as a good rider handles a horse. Not to say that Sherlock was his pet. Far from it, but... If only I had half of John's ability to curb Sherlock's bad habits I would be a happy man.

Things were different after the fall. They still spend time together, yes, but John is more distant as if he is afraid that he will burn his fingers if he stands too close. He no longer presumes to direct Sherlock. Then again, he hardly needs to. Sherlock is constantly falling over himself to deduce John's wants before he feels them. I have never seen Sherlock so eager to please. It is terrifying to watch them. To see the way that they lean toward each other, but refuse to touch.

IV.

Mycroft lets them in with his key. Anderson takes the lead having been here before. The others gasp with infuriatingly predicable awe as he leads them around the living room and kitchen. They begin, oddly enough, with the Microwave.

Mycroft slowly walks down the stairs. He sits on the steps to wait.

As he plays with his umbrella, devising the best pose to be found in, he notices scuff marks, and scratches on the paint. Not long ago someone lay here on the steps. He reaches between the slats and the wall and pulls out a single blond hair.

II.

John?

Of course, stag night. He must have fallen down drunk when he returned.

The two of them had gone from pub to pub. It made me smile to see the graduated cylinders sticking out of Sherlock's pockets. What a ridiculously absurd night that had been. Drunk and disorderly. I considered barely a moment before deciding to leave Sherlock where he was. Far be it from me to ruin Sherlock's special night with John. It had certainly been a night to make memories.

What's this? Another hair on the other side of the step, a curly black one.

John AND Sherlock? What were the two of them doing lying on the stairs together?

I thought that the highpoint of that adventure had been the night spent in gaol. Perhaps even before then, they had already made memories of another sort. Oh Sherlock, is this the real reason that you have so rapidly fallen back to your old ways? An assignation on the steps of the flat? Perhaps a stolen kiss? Then the wedding. Poor Sherlock. How his heart must be breaking. When John was here, Sherlock was high on love and friendship. But now he is gone. Time for big brother to step in.

Ah, they have finally arrived. The pose.

IV.

"Well then, Sherlock, back on the sauce?"

"What are you doing here?"

"I phoned him," John said.

"The siren call of old habits. How very like Uncle Rudy. Though in many ways cross-dressing would have been a wiser part for you."

"You phoned him?"

"Of course I bloody phoned him."

"Of course he bloody did. Now save me a little time, where should we be looking?"

"We?"

"Mr Holmes!"

"For God's sake! Anderson."

"Sorry Sherlock, it's for your own good."

"Oh that's him, isn't it? You said he would be taller."

II.

I don't know what it is about him, but the presence of Sherlock makes me want to challenge him. We dance around each other like peacocks about to fight. I know it's happening, but I can't stop myself from doing it. He is always attacking. I can't help but respond, can I?

IV.

"Some members of your little fanclub. Do be polite. They are entirely trustworthy and even willing to search through the toxic waste dump that you're pleased to call a flat. You're a celebrity these days, Sherlock. you can't afford a drug habit."

"I do not have a drug habit."

"Hey what happened to my chair?"

II.

His emotions are even more evident when he is drugged. How can John not see how much his defection has hurt Sherlock? Best find the drugs quickly while John is here to distract him.

IV.

"What have you found so far? Clearly nothing."

"There's nothing to find!"

"Your bedroom door is shut. You haven't been home all night, so why would a man who has never knowingly closed a door without the direct orders of his mother bother to do so on this occasion?"

"Okay stop, just stop, point made."

II.

He seems genuinely upset. John already knows about the drugs. What could possibly be in his room that he might at all mind John finding? Oh...yes...the girl. Has he really gone that far? Best offer a distraction. Mention our parents. Lead his thoughts away from the bedroom.

IV.

"Won't be the first time that your substance abuse has wreaked havoc with their line dancing."

"This is not what you think. This is for a case."

"What case could possibly justify this?"

"Magnussen, Charles Augustus Magnussen."

II.

Charles Augustus Magnussen?

When will my brother learn not to meddle in affairs that are beyond him? But first things first. There are witnesses. Damage control.

Good, I've scared them. Now for John.

IV.

"I hope I won't have to threaten you as well."

John narrows his brows and stares up at Mycroft. "Well I think that we both find that embarrassing."

II.

The bravery of the soldier. Yes it is stupidity. I can't help but be charmed by it though. And Sherlock, it's been years since I've seen him laugh this freely. Yes, the drugs certainly remove his masks. Perhaps he needed them to seem more normal to his woman. She must have certainly been charmed by him if she is sharing his bed. Surprising, but first, I must dissuade him from this reckless course.

IV.

"You go against Magnussen and you will find yourself going against me."

"Okay, I'll let you know if I notice."

II.

He's showing off. I change my mind. John is a bad influence on Sherlock.

IV

"Unwise, Brother mine."

Sherlock throws Mycroft up against the wall and pulls his arm up painfully behind his back.

"Brother mine, don't appall me when I'm high."

"Mycroft, don't say another word, just go. He could snap you in two, and right now, I'm slightly worried that he might."

II.

Yes, John has made Sherlock worse. I fear that his hopeless love for this man will take him completely outside of my control. Does he even have a clue what is happening? Of course he doesn't. Look at him, shoeing me away like a child. He knows nothing.

IV.

"Don't speak, just leave."

II.

I know that he is wrong for Sherlock. But when he stops to hand me my umbrella, I am reminded of how kind he can be. How can I be both disarmed and furious at the same time. No matter. I'm off. Go ahead and self destruct why don't you. It's out of my hands now.

Work, that is the answer to distracting thoughts. I'll ignore all thoughts of little brother.

IV.

It is late, and Mycroft's back is starting to hurt from his time spent at his desk when a priority call comes in.

"This is Mycroft Holmes. What is it?"

"It's your brother sir."

"My brother? What has he done this time?"

"I'm sorry sir, but... your brother has been shot."