This should have been If We Ever Meet Again.

Unfortunately my muse decided she had some sort of issue with that fic and half way through just left me. I know what happens at the beginning as I've already written it. I know what happens at the end because the ending was the first thing that popped into my head when my ipod chose the song. It's just I can't seem to get from one to the other.

It's tiny what I need. Just one bit of dialogue or one or two sentences. But no, apparently that's to much to ask.

Ergo, I decided to just put my ipod on shuffle again and come up with a new fic and hopefully in the meantime my muse will stop sulking and give me the sentence.

She really is fickle my muse because she seemed really into this fic *rolls eyes*

Vertigo

Sherlock winced as the abrasive bark grazed his forearm. He reached up, fingertips scrabbling for the branch above, which was just beyond his reach. He jumped and caught the branch, pulling himself up inelegantly but efficiently. He paused for a moment sitting atop the branch kicking his heels in the air enjoying a moments peace amongst the slowly dying light.

After catching his breath Sherlock, got up and scrambled upwards; climbing the tiered branches that began to look almost like a ladder, pulling himself higher and higher…

"Sherlock!" surprise caused Sherlock's grip to slacken slightly and he nearly fell. He scrambled up onto the branch, stood and turned around so that he could look down at the figure on the ground which he could only just make out through the branches.

"Mycroft" he called, peering down at his brother, " look how high I am."

"I can see how high you are." came Mycroft's irritable reply, filtering up through the crisscross of branches, "Now get down."

"Why?" asked Sherlock and, following the age old tradition of ignoring his brothers orders, began to scramble for the next branch up.

"Sherlock!" Mycroft sounded exasperated but Sherlock really wanted to reach the top of the tree and wasn't going to stop for Mycroft. Anyway he knew what he was doing; he was good at this, he wouldn't fall. Mycroft was worrying unnecessarily.

"Sherlock, please come down." Mycroft's voice was beginning to sound far away.

"Sherlock! Sherlock, that branch is cracked! Sherlock!" The beginnings of panic were evident in Mycroft's voice now. Sherlock glanced down at the branch he was standing on and saw that, yes, the branch was cracked right at the end near the trunk. He began to walk along it carefully. The branch didn't move at all. He jumped and watched the branch as he landed. The branch still didn't move.

"It's fine!" Sherlock yelled. "I don't weigh enough to make it move."

"Get down anyway!" Sherlock scowled. His brother was always ruining his most interesting experiments and stopping him from doing anything exciting like climbing this tree. Feeling obstinate Sherlock began to jump up and down on the branch.

"No!" he shouted back down to Mycroft and was pleased to hear that when Mycroft responded there was irritation in his voice.

"Sherlock you're going to fall." there was definite panic in Mycroft's voice now. Sherlock felt the thrill of vindictive pleasure. He carried on jumping up and down, filled with the knowledge that it was annoying his brother but there was nothing Mycroft could do about it other that climbing up to get him himself. And Mycroft wouldn't do that. For now, Sherlock was the one in control, the one with the upper hand, and this happened so rarely that he was going to savour every moment.

"I'm not going to fall." he half yelled, half laughed. He heard Mycroft begin to reply but his words were cut off by a dreadful creaking, cracking sound and suddenly Sherlock's world lurched. And then he was falling, tumbling through the air, and the branches were scratching and swiping at him, and time seemed to be both sped up and slowed down. And there was sound, a sort of whooshing and a indistinct thudding but it sounded distant and far away, as though it didn't really matter. He couldn't see anything, his eyes were too tightly shut but he could feel that he was falling and it was the most horrible, terrifying feeling. His arms shot out blindly, instinctively and by pure chance managed to grab onto to a branch.

Sherlock hugged his lifeline, wrapping his arms securely around it and hung in the air. He was shaking, still fearful from his short freefall, and didn't yet have enough strength to pull himself up onto the branch. A minute later and his frantically beating heart had calmed a little and his strength had returned enough for him to pull himself up onto the branch and he sat on it, grateful for the relative safety and security. He sat in silence, the only sounds his ragged breathing as it slowly returned to normal. And suddenly he laughed. He hadn't fallen. He was safe.

Sherlock jumped up, his fear and caution almost forgotten in his moment of glee.

"See!" he yelled "I'm fine." he laughed again and looked up. He could see the broken stump, where the branch had been only moments before, not too far above him. Had he only fallen that little way? It felt like he had been falling for an eternity at least.

"I'm so very talented at tree climbing." he yelled triumphantly dizzy with his success. "No one else could have done what I just did." When no one contested this Sherlock began to feel a little confused. He realised that everything was silent apart from his shouts. There were no reprimands from Mycroft filtering up through the branches. There were no yells for Sherlock to get down, no one acknowledging his words. Sherlock shivered, beginning to sense for the first time that something was wrong.

He edged along the branch, the elation that had filled him only moments before gone. Nervously Sherlock looked down to the ground below. It suddenly looked a very long way away and his vision was obscured by dark branches that slashed across his view of the ground.

Suddenly Sherlock's heart stopped. There lying on the ground among the fallen leaves. Mycroft! But how? And then with sudden sickening realisation Sherlock saw the branch that he had broken lying on the ground a little way away from his brother. Sherlock froze. He wanted to scream, to call for help. He wanted to get down. He wanted to check that Mycroft was okay. But he couldn't.

Dizzying fear gripped Sherlock. Fear that Mycroft was seriously hurt, fear about how the ground looked so far away, fear that no one would find them not until it was too late, the crippling, horrible fear that he had killed his brother. The world began to spin out of control but Sherlock remained frozen, trembling, unable to do anything. And for the first time Sherlock experienced vertigo.

Poor Mycroft. I do abuse him a little.

I probably should have thought this through. I was planning on carrying this on (as it I like the ending as it is but can't really leave Mycroft lying on the floor with no conclusion whatsoever) but now my ipod will probably pick something highly inappropriate, like The Best Day or Time of Our Lives. Oh well here goes…

Cemeteries of London (Coldplay) My ipod certainly has a twisted sense of humour…

(and after Cemeteries of London it will be back to If We Ever Meet Again to try and work on that stupid connecting sentence!)

Thanks for reading. And a huge thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far.