A/N.: So… here you go. Please don't forget to leave a comment, it makes me happy And please read the A/N at the end of the chapter, it is very important.

Chapter 6

Today's headline read: "Fake genius might have been real after all!" It went on in a slightly smaller script with: "New evidence arose that suggests Sherlock Holmes might have been the victim of a conspiracy against him."

Mycroft folded the newspaper and put it on the coffee table. It was obviously Sherlock's work, slowly working his way through Moriarty's web, exposing his scheme. Since he was alone in his office Mycroft allowed a small grin to appear on his lips. Sherlock was like a bacterial infection, if you got him on your tail it was extremely difficult to shake him off again.

Mycroft's phone rang. He was disappointed for a short second when he realized that it wasn't Sherlock; rather a number he immediately associated with the Charitable Heart Hospital.

"Mr. Holmes? We have a young man here in the ICU, he's listened you as his emergency contact!"

Mycroft felt his heart skipping a beat. He listened absently to the voice telling him an address and rattling off a long list of medical termini. He interrupted the voice the second his mind rebounded. "What exactly happened?"

There was a short pause. "We are not entirely sure. He has been shot three times and was in emergency operation for a little more than four hours. His condition is critical; it might become stable if he makes it through tonight."

Mycroft put the phone down and found himself on his way to the hospital within minutes.

Mycroft never liked the white, sterile hospital walls. He'd been in and out of the hospital for the last year since Sherlock's twentieth birthday. Sherlock's drug problem had increased immensely for the last two years.

The older Holmes opened the door to Sherlock's room. The young man looked like an empty shell of his former self. He was connected to a dozen beeping machines and an infusion run into his veins. His eyes were closed and his chest rose slightly.

Mycroft's eyes widened slightly when he saw the handcuffs that kept Sherlock connected to the bed. He sat down next to his brother and sighted. It had been two months since Sherlock's last case of substance abuse and he'd really hoped that it had gotten better. "What did you do this time Sherlock?"

"Why are you here?" Sherlock opened his eyes and looked at Mycroft. "I haven't seen you for half a year."

"Sherlock, I worry about you." Mycroft had been out of country for some very secret government business and hadn't been able to visit his little brother. He'd still send some of his minions to keep an eye on Sherlock and inform him of everything that was going on.

"No you don't." Sherlock tried to turn away but the handcuffs made it quite difficult. "Why did you come?"

"What did you take this time?"

"I didn't take anything." Sherlock sounded very tired.

"The handcuffs?"

"Oh, that's a very funny story." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "It was a simple case of wrong place at the wrong time."

Mycroft raised his eyebrow in a perfect imitation of their father. "Really? It couldn't have been someone arresting you for possession?"

"If your mind is already made up, why do you ask?"

Mycroft felt more and more frustrated with his little brother. It was as if Sherlock was taking a second run at puberty. "Sherlock, you've been taking drugs for the last two years, you are back in the hospital and you've been arrested for possession. What am I supposed to believe?"

"My word?" Sherlock laughed bitterly and launched into a coughing fit. "You sound more and more like father, you know?"

Mycroft didn't mind the insinuated insult. What he minded was that there was no emotion in Sherlock's voice, no empathy, no anger, nothing.

They spent the next few minutes in total silence; the only sound was the soft "clank" of the handcuffs every time Sherlock moved slightly. "How have you been for the last months?"

Sherlock huffed. "According to you I've been taking drugs, of course."

"Good Lord Sherlock, stop acting like a child. Don't you see that I care for you?"

"No. No I don't. You've clearly shown that I am not important to you. I don't know why you are here. I sure as hell didn't ask for you to come. Just leave me alone!"

Mycroft clenched his fist and exhaled slowly. His response was cut short when the door opened and a policeman came in. He marched straight to Sherlock and opened the handcuffs.

"Everything is taken care of Sir!" He nodded at Mycroft and left them again.

Sherlock rubbed his sore wrists for a minute and rolled onto his side.

Mycroft rose and left; he closed the door with a little bit more force than absolutely necessary. If Sherlock wouldn't talk he wouldn't force it out of him. Mycroft felt as if he'd severed the ties between him and his brother when he left the hospital.

What Mycroft didn't see were the few tears Sherlock shed when he knew that he wasn't observed.

This time it was different. Sherlock was in the ICU and there were a lot more machines. Nurses were running around, working on keeping the patients alive. Doctors were doing their best to keep everyone as stable as possible. Usually visitors weren't allowed into the ICU but Mycroft wasn't an ordinary visitor.

Sherlock was in an artificial coma. Mycroft sat in a chair next to him, looking at his lifeless form. Sherlock looked so young; Mycroft was confused for a second because he looked exactly like he had fifteen years ago.

Mycroft's mobile phone rang. He looked at it, the ID read Anthea. He considered answering for a second before he turned it off. Work had been one of the major factors that ruined the relationship between the two brothers and he was not going to let it come between them tonight.

"Wise decision." John Watson sat down opposite of Mycroft. He was wearing a doctor's coat, mainly as a disguise so no one would start complaining about too many visitors in the ICU.

A/N.: So what do you think?

IMPORTANT: I need your help with a decision: I could write about one more chapter and finish the story. Then everything would stay chronologically. Or I'd put some more flashbacks inside with an even younger Sherlock, but then the time-line would no longer be correct. What would you favor? Please let me know.