AN: Hello again to all my lovely readers, I've got another chapter for you all. I know that it was supposed to be out last weekend, but sadly I ended up sick all week. All better now, so here for you all is the chapter I promised. Part 19 should be out on schedule next Saturday. Love and cookies for you all.
Disclaimer: Still don't own, but it is on my christmas list... well one can always hope right. :-)
SH/JW
Guilt was a foreign feeling for Mycroft, but it was an emotion that rarely he did feel. He certainly felt it today standing before the door of 221 Baker Street. He had spent the last three days searching for his wayward little brother, only to find that he was nowhere to be found. He had not gone to any of his usual haunts and none of his old dealers would even speak of him. Sherlock's homeless network was just as tightlipped. It seemed as if all of them had heard of the part that he had played in Doctor Watson's extended absence. He had even asked Inspector Lestrade about it, but he was just as clueless as he was. It turns out that he hadn't even known that Sherlock was missing. Lestrade had spent his entire holiday helping get his cousin settled into a new house.
Useless.
He had always lectured Sherlock on the disadvantages of sentiment and now here he was giving in to his own regarding his brother. He cared for him, of course he did, and Sherlock was his one weakness after all.
'Well are you going to come in, or are you just going to stand out here all night?'
Mrs. Hudson's voice startled him out of his thoughts. She had apparently just arrived back from Tesco's, if her shopping bags were any indication. Her door key was in her hand and she had a rather sympathetic smile on her face. 'Of course, I do intend to come in Mrs. Hudson.'
'Well good then. It's good to see one of you boys. Lord knows I hardly see Sherlock anymore since John was kidnapped. That poor boy is Sherlock's only real friend you know.' She opened the door and kept up her monologue as he followed her in and then up to 221B. 'I don't know about those police friends of his though. They came through here a couple of days ago making such a racket. Oh and the mess that they left. I can't do anything about it mind you, what with my hip.' She unlocked the door to Sherlock's flat and motioned him in. 'I'll just go set these down dear. Have a look around. I'll be back in a minute.'
'Thank you Mrs. Hudson.'
Mycroft waited until the elderly landlady was back in her flat before he opened the door and stepped in, only to stop dead in shock. Sherlock's sitting room was in shambles. The sofa and both chairs were gone and the table was bare. The headphones wearing skull was still in its place on the wall, but the human one from the mantle was missing. There were papers strewn across the floor and multiple books were gone from the bookcases.
He couldn't even bring himself to react when Mrs. Hudson laid a hand on his arm upon her return.
'Oh those nasty police taking his things. I just knew they were going to be trouble. That one dark haired fellow that Sherlock dislikes so much was positively grinning when they came to search the flat. I went out so that I wouldn't hear them. They do make so much noise, at my time of life, it's just too much. I looked it over after they had left of course. They took all of his experiments. I don't know why they took the rest. It's just not decent the things they do to Sherlock. I don't think the poor dear feels safe here anymore, what with John being gone. Family is all we have left in the end Mycroft Holmes, and it was a wicked thing you did to your brother not helping him get his partner back. It's no wonder he wouldn't go to you for anything after the police started to bother him again.'
Mycroft had to bit his tongue to keep from yelling at her. Every word was a dagger. It was his fault, all of it. Why hadn't he just taken care of Sherlock when he had had the chance? It had seemed so simple at the time. 'I'd like to be alone if you don't mind Mrs. Hudson.'
'Of course. Just let me know if you'd like some tea later.'
'Thank you.' After she left, he propped his umbrella against the wall and sank to his knees. Picking up one page after another, he tried desperately not to start crying. He had done this and he would fix it, even if it took the rest of his life, he owed Sherlock and John that much at least.
SH/JW