(another poor chapter lol)

Sherlock fell to a heap against the cold pavement. Everything was spinning. He lay there for several minutes, feeling light headed and slightly ill. Eventually he regained the ability to stand and stumbled off into the night. It took Sherlock almost half an hour to stagger towards Molly's flat, rapping on the door several times. "I'm coming, I'm coming...Sherlock!" Sherlock pushed past her, teetering back and forth as he made his way into her living room.

"Sherlock!" His eyes darted around the room till he found Molly.

"Molly, Molly, Molly. I came...'s fast 's I could." He suddenly giggled and he had no idea why.

"Are you ok?". The ginger detective swayed.

"I'm fine... I'm absolutely fine"

"Are you drunk?"

"Nononono...is this my flat Molly?"

He continued to sway so badly that Molly pushed him onto her couch before he fell over. "No silly this is mine." Sherlock nodded. "Thought so...not a fan of pink". The way he emphasised the word pink made her smile. Molly looked at him, completely confused. "Are you on drugs?" Sherlock tilted his head, looking at her perplaxed and then his eyes widen. "The man!"

"What man"

"The man-man...he had a needle!"

"...I think I should call Mycroft"

"No"

"Why not? He can help you!"

"I don't like his face"

"Sherlock, if you've been drugged I have to!"

"I'm absolutely fine. Je pense I should lie down for a bit though. No Mycroft...lazy so 'n' so"

Molly raised an eyebrow at the sudden use of french. The detective laid his head on the couch for a few minutes, while Molly decided to call Mycroft just in case.

/You need to come at once. Somethings wrong with Sherlock, No.. No Sherlock put that down! Sherlock! Please hurry Mr Holmes!/

/Hi it's me again! Please get here soon! I don't know what he's been drugged with, but he's out of control! No Sherlock! Put Toby down!"

"It's for an experiment..."

"Put him down!"/

/Mycroft...it's Molly again, if you don't get your governmental butt down here soon, so help me you won't have a little brother! HURRY THE HELL UP MYCROFT HOLMES!"

NO! Don't come, piss off Mycroft!"

"Sherlock give me that! Go stand in the corner!"/

"Sir? Your phone has been ringing for a few hours now, I know you are busy but the young lady on the other end seems to be getting quite frantic." Mycroft raised his eyebrows, taking his phone from the tray offered and dismissing the man.

You have 3 new messages.

Sherlock was currently searching for clues in her sofa, so she hoped it was safe enough to leave him alone for a few seconds. "Stay here...don't move or anything." Sherlock gave her a funny look. "How can...can I not move, Molly? I am in const'nt motion!" He punctuated every word and waved his hands about, as if they emphasised his opinions. She gave him a smile and patted his shoulder. "Go back to what you were doing, I'll see who's at the door"

She ran as quickly as she was able. "Finally, I have no idea what to do, Mr Holmes." Mycroft removed his coat, placing it on a hook on the wall. "Don't worry, I'm sure I can sort things out for you." Mycroft smiled but Molly could see his eyebrows were furrowed. He was worried.

There was a sudden, almighty crash. "That wasn't me!" Molly couldn't help but smile and the two of them made their way back to the living room to find the detective trying to stop several glasses from a cabinet from meeting their untimely end.

"I didn't do it"

"Oh Sherlock.." Molly and Mycroft quickly took the glasses and uprighted them, Mycroft grabbed his brother by the shoulders. "Let go Mycroft!" Mycroft refused to comply and pushed his brother back on the couch. "..Go 'way Myc! I'm ferpectly fine!" His brother sighed and sat next to him, grabbing one arm to make sure he didn't try and escape. "Is that why you are mangling the english language, Lockie?" Sherlock's eyes narrowed. "I'll m'ngle you".

"Mr Holmes?"

"Molly, this is my private physician, Dr Palmer" An elderly man with overly large eyebrows appeared from the door way and made his way over to the two brothers. Mycroft left his brother in the doctor's capable hands and took Molly out of the room. "Will he be ok?" Mycroft nodded. "I would expect so, he is no stranger to drugs, difficult to believe, perhaps, but it is the truth." Molly looked back worriedly at her friend.

"Stupid vieil man"

"Sherlock Holmes, behave yourself"

His brother's reply was to stick out his tongue in defiance. The doctor seized that opportunity to look down his throat. "He will be fine, I shall stay here tonight to make sure." Molly was relieved, she wasn't sure she could handle a drugged out Sherlock. "He'll be out of it for awhile, I think he's about to pass out pretty soon, I'll be by tomorrow to make sure he's alright. See you Mr Holmes, Miss Hooper" The elderly man packed up his things and left.

"Molly?" He sounded so young and innocent.

"What is it Sherlock?" He looked around widely, quickly appearing anxious and confused.

"Wh're's John?" He'd begun to slur, part of the effects of whatever the young detective had been drugged with, supposed Molly.

"...He's not here Sherlock, he's at home"

"B'ker Street?"

"No.."

"C'n we see him? Why isn't he h're?"

"Sherlock..." Mycroft sat on his other side. "He can't be here right now, Sherlock. Look, you need to rest, come now." He leaned down to help his brother out of his shoes, Molly rushed off and quickly returned with his pyjamas. "Why c'n't he be h're? &..Did I do s'mthing wrong? Is he angry at me?" His eyes were wide, on the verge of tears. "No Sherlock.. he's not angry at you" He looked to Molly, a single tear running down his cheek as Mycroft helped him into his sleeping gear.

"Then why c'nt I see him?"

"...Sherlock...you know the answer to that question. You just need to think" Molly couldn't bear to explain things to him while in this vulnerable state, so she left the answering to his older brother.

His head dropped against his chest, dejected, his brother quickly pushed him down and turned him so his head rested against a pillow. "I miss John. I miss him, Myc" Molly gave Sherlock a peck on the cheek and said goodnight. "Wake me if you need me." Mycroft gave her a slight smile and waved her off.

"I know Sherlock" He took the chair next to the sofa, his hands stroking back the locks on his brothers head. "Does he h'te me? Is th't why I c'nt see him?" The slurring was rapidly getting worse, it wouldn't be long before Sherlock's body would give and let him sleep. Mycroft kept stroking his hair. "Sherlock he could never hate you. You know the answer, but in your current state, you just cant understand." Sherlock looked up at his older brother, with watery eyes. "Th'n tell me." His voice was broken. Mycroft sighed.

"Sherlock, you had to fake your death, in order to protect John. It simply isn't safe to go and see him."

"Oh...Will I ev'r see him ag'in, Myc?"

"Im sure you will."

Sherlock quickly dropped off to sleep not long after. His body occasionally shivering. Mycroft placed another blanket over his brothers lithe form and sat back in his chair, deep in thought. Someone knew Sherlock was alive. This was worrying. Oh dear brother, why do you have to get into such trouble? You better get through this soon Sherlock, everyday you are out there is another day where I am stuck in my office, worrying if you will come back in piece, waiting for the day I receive a phonecall to tell me you really have died.

Mycroft was thankful everyday that his brother was not dead, that he had returned to him. He had been angry at first but upon hearing his brother's story he had found himself feeling something he had not expected. Pride.

He was so very proud of his brother.