A/N: WARNING! This chapter has a warning for violence against a female. It's not a ton, but it's there. Thanks for reading!

The first thing on Sherlock's 'to-do' list is to go to the American Museum of Natural History. Mycroft tries to convince him to go to the MET, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, but Sherlock groans and complains the entire walk to where Mycroft's car is parked, so Mycroft finally agrees to go to the history museum.

They spend all day there. First, they take a full tour, but when that ends, they go through the museum again to really examine the collections.

"So," Mycroft starts when they begin through the museum again. "We haven't talked much lately. Dad said you asked John to prom."

"I did," Sherlock confirms.

"Why?"

"Why? Well…because I wanted to."

"You felt guilty."

"Wrong. I changed my mind about going."

"Fine," Mycroft says. "And what about Olive, then?"

Sherlock tenses. "What about her?"

"Dad says you're not talking."

"Dad is correct."

"Why?"

"Why? I don't know, because Dad's a smart man and probably realized since she hasn't been around lately that—"

Mycroft sighs, annoyed. "That's not what I meant."

"Then…" Sherlock toys with a rope around an exhibit. "I don't know why."

"People grow apart and move on," Mycroft says.

"Yes, I know."

Mycroft doesn't say anything else about the topic.

"How is Lestrade?" Sherlock asks.

"Perfect, if you must know."

Sherlock smiles. "Perfect?"

"Absolutely. He is coming here to visit soon."

"He hasn't called with a case lately."

"He knows you're busy."

"Not too busy."

"Getting your anatomy grade up is too busy, Sherlock."

Sherlock huffs. "I got it up."

"To a 'C'?"

"Yes."

Mycroft shrugs. "That's passing, I guess."

Sherlock silently continues on.

"What else do you want to do while you're here?"

"I'd like to go to the top of the Empire State Building and the Statue of Liberty."

"That sounds fun," Mycroft says. "We can go to the Empire State Building this afternoon if you'd like."

Sherlock looks excited. "Sure!"

Mycroft smiles. "And I thought tomorrow we could go suit shopping."

"Suit shopping? For what?"

"For your prom, Sherlock! It's in one week, you don't think you're going to wear your normal old suit for such an occasion, did you?"

"Well, I—"

"Tomorrow, I'm taking you to buy a new suit."

"Alright," Sherlock agrees, never one to pass up new, free clothes. "And the Statue of Liberty after?"

"Sure."

Sherlock smiles again, very happy with his holiday so far.

When they finally leave the museum, Mycroft takes Sherlock for a late lunch at a pizza place Brook often goes to.

"Where is Brook anyway? Work?"

"Yes," Mycroft says. "But I doubt he'll be home tonight. We'll have the apartment to ourselves."

"Why?"

Mycroft sighs. "He spends a lot of time at his girlfriend's house."

"Why is that bad?"

"It's not bad, it's just…she's not very good for him. They host a lot of parties and…it's just not good considering…our family."

"Understandable," Sherlock says. "You can't say anything to him?"

"He doesn't want to hear anything about it. He likes her, that's all that matters to most humans."

Sherlock nods. "Ridiculous," he says, "The emotions of the human race."

Mycroft laughs. "Indeed, little brother."

They get back to the apartment after visiting the Empire State Building and walking around until they grew hungry enough for dinner.

Since it's three in the morning London time, Sherlock goes to bed as soon as they get home. He actually thanks Mycroft for the day they had and tells his brother that he looks forward to the next.

Sherlock's up at four in the morning, nine London time. He can't go back to sleep, so he leaves his room to watch television.

And he can't figure out how to turn it on. He fiddles with the remotes, all three of them, he manually turns the television on but can't figure out which device will actually make it play anything, so for twenty minutes he curses at the machine, as if that'll do anything.

Finally, when he's about to give up, Mycroft's bedroom door is thrown open and the zombie-version of his brother stomps through. He grabs the remote control from Sherlock, clicks one button, and Sherlock watches as it all wakes and an image finally appears on the screen.

"Oh, tha—" is all he gets out before Mycroft throws the remote control at him and storms back to his bedroom.

Nothing is even on television. Sherlock finds a Doctor Who marathon, and since that's the only thing he's even a little bit familiar with, he leaves it.

It makes him miss John. John would be ecstatic about a Doctor Who marathon, since it's one of John's favorite shows. John would make some popcorn and sit down to watch as many episodes that he could before Sherlock begged him to do something else.

It's closer to 9:30 London time now, so Sherlock takes his phone out to call John.

John answers groggily. "Hello?"

"Did I wake you?"

"A bit, yeah," John says.

"Oh…sorry."

"No it's…" John clears his throat and Sherlock can hear him waking up more. "What time is it?"

"My time or your time?"

"Both…either…I don't care."

"9:30 your time, 4:30 my time."

"What are you doing up?"

"Can't sleep anymore," Sherlock says.

"Mmm," John sighs.

"How was your party?"

"Eventful," John says, laughing. "Brady threw up on my sister."

Sherlock laughs, too. "That does sound eventful."

"He can't hold his liquor."

"Apparently," Sherlock says. "Was Declan there?"

"He was," John says. "He left early to take Ellery home, though."

"Who else?"

"Oh, you know, Harvey, Lily, Brady, Jenna, Alex, Wyatt, Olive, Dane, Margo, Duke, Blake—"

"Olive was there?"

"Mmm," John sighs, catching his fault. "Y-yes…"

"Why?"

"Because…Brady had invited Lane, so—"

"Lane was there too?"

"Yes."

Sherlock practically growls.

"That's not okay?"

"Well," Sherlock huffs. "It's just annoying. You all clearly like Olive and Lane more than me. How long until I can't hang out with you guys anymore because you'd rather hang out with Olive and Lane?"

"I wouldn't, babe."

"But they gladly go to your parties."

John laughs. "I don't care about the parties. I'd skip a million parties if it meant being able to hang out with you."

"Really?"

"Yes, of course."

Sherlock still pouts.

"I bit my tongue four times during lunch yesterday," John says by way of changing the subject.

It makes Sherlock grin. "Did you?"

"Those were some explicit texts, mister. Hope I'm the only one receiving them."

"Of course," Sherlock says. "Want to pick up where we left off?"

John groans. "I can't, baby."

"Why?"

"Because I'm in bed next to Duke."

Sherlock laughs, but he tries to sound more angry than he is. "Duke?! Always Duke?!"

"Would you feel equally as bothered if I was in bed next to Lily? The most beautiful girl I know?"

"That depends, how attracted to Lily are you?"

"I'm not even attracted to Duke!"

Sherlock hears a low grumble over the receiver. "That's not what you said last night," he hears.

"John!" Sherlock cries.

"Shut up!" John yells at Duke. "He's obviously kidding, babe."

Sherlock stifles a laugh. "Stop sleeping with Duke."

"Ok, I'm sorry!"

Now, Sherlock laughs. "I'm kidding, John. I know you're not attracted to Duke."

"Yes, he is!" Duke says.

Sherlock hears John slap Duke. It makes him laugh again.

"Well," John finally says, "I've got to get dressed to take this slob home then to leave to my grandma's. I'll text you, okay?"

"Okay," Sherlock agrees. "Have fun."

"I will. You too. What are you doing today?"

"I'm going tuxedo shopping for prom."

"Ooh, get a purple tux!"

"Hell no."

"Come on, love! It'd be sexy."

"I'm not getting a purple tux. I'm getting a black tux."

"Get a crotchless tux," John mutters.

"I can tell you're no longer in bed with Duke."

"Correct. I am in the bathroom."

"Taking a shower?"

"Yes," John says. "I'm removing my clothes now."

"Oh, are you?"

John chuckles. "Yes."

"I want to see."

"You're sex crazed, you know that?"

"It's your fault."

"How?!"

"Because you're hot."

"Now you say I'm hot. When we're an ocean apart."

"You're always hot. Especially naked."

John laughs. "That's what I am now."

Sherlock perks with interest. "FaceTime?"

"I don't have time, love."

Sherlock groans.

"Tonight, okay? I promise. And tomorrow you'll be home."

"Right. And you're picking me up? My flight arrives at ten."

"I'll be there. For now, I've got to go. I love you."

"I love you too, John. Have a good day."

"You too, love."

Sherlock sighs as he hangs up, missing John terribly. It's nearly five o'clock, still far too early for Mycroft to be up, so Sherlock gets a blanket and lays on the sofa to watch more Doctor Who.

Mycroft wakes him a long time later.

"Sherlock," Mycroft whispers. "I got you an appointment with my suit guy in an hour."

Sherlock sits up and rubs his eyes. "Suit guy?"

"Yes, I go through a lot of suits."

"What time is it?"

"Just after nine."

"Mmm," Sherlock sighs.

"Hungry?"

"Is Tessa back?" Sherlock asks.

Mycroft laughs. "No, she doesn't come here on the weekends."

"So, you're planning to make me breakfast?"

"I can, you know."

"I'll pass," Sherlock says, noting Mycroft's atrocious cooking.

Mycroft hands him a cup of coffee instead. "So, suit shopping and then, what? Ellis Island?"

"The Statue of Liberty?"

"Yes."

"Then yes."

"Perfect," Mycroft says.

Sherlock does love suit shopping. More than he'll ever admit, he loves trying on new and beautiful suits.

The shop is a high-end store too, so while Sherlock's fitted, Mycroft gets a glass of wine. Sherlock asks for tea, but he makes a face when he takes a sip.

"Why don't they ever do it right?" Sherlock mutters.

"I know, I know," Mycroft agrees.

An hour later, Sherlock's got a brand new tuxedo with a purple bowtie (he thought he'd give John that purple he wanted).

Before they go to the Statue of Liberty, they go back to the apartment to leave Sherlock's suit. They walk in excitedly arguing about something so off topic to what the argument started as that they can't even remember what it started as.

"I'm going to hang my suit," Sherlock says, leaving the room.

"Hurry!" Mycroft calls.

Sherlock gets to his room, gets his suit hung, when his phone starts to ring. Anxious that it's John, he answers without looking at the caller ID.

"Hey!" Sherlock cries.

"Sherlock?"

Sherlock stops and calms; it's not John. "Taylor?"

"Sherlock, I need you," she softly says.

Sherlock sinks. Taylor's crying. "What happened, what did he do?"

Taylor sniffles into the phone.

Sherlock knows Taylor talks better in person, so he gets his laptop out and calls her over Skype.

"Sherlock, I don't want to—" she tries.

"Answer me, Taylor."

Taylor hangs up the phone and answers the computer call.

Sherlock gasps and grows angry. Taylor's still crying, but she's trying to hide a large black eye forming on her face while holding a towel to her nose.

"What happened?" Sherlock demands.

"I…I confronted him…"

"Alone?!"

"Yes, I got scared of my parents and his, so—"

Mycroft enters Sherlock's room. "Sherlock, come on, let's—"

Sherlock turns to him. "Call Lestrade." He gives Mycroft Taylor's address.

Taylor cries into her hand.

Mycroft does as instructed, and Sherlock turns back to Taylor.

"Where did he go? He's not still there is he?"

"I don't know, he stormed out after he…" Taylor dabs her eye again.

Sherlock takes a deep breath. "My brother is calling his boyfriend. He's a cop, he can help. Where are your parents?"

"They're out of town," she tells him.

"I'm going to call John to go over there with you."

Taylor nods.

Sherlock dials John's number.

"Hey baby!" John answers. "I can't really talk right now."

"Shit," Sherlock sighs. "You're still at your grandma's, aren't you?"

"Yeah, love, won't be back 'til later. Why, what's up?"

Sherlock bites his lip, glancing back at Taylor. "Nothing," Sherlock says. "I'll call you later."

"Babe, what's—"

Sherlock hangs up before John can ask what's going on.

Mycroft returns to the room. "Lestrade's on his way."

"Thanks," Sherlock says. "Taylor, this is my brother Mycroft. Don't hang up, okay? I'll be right back."

Sherlock stands and tells Mycroft just to stay with her, then he slips out into the hall and gets his phone out again.

The only other person he can think of to trust with this obviously very large crisis is Olive.

Of course, she doesn't answer when he calls. That would be far too easy for everybody, so he quickly hangs up and sends her a text.

To Olive Degas: Please answer. It's an emergency!

He tries again, and this time Olive answers.

"What is it, Sherlock?"

"Olive, I need your help. John's busy and…and you're the only person I trust."

"Okay, what?"

Sherlock nervously swallows, then spills. "Taylor confronted her boyfriend on using drugs and…and he hit her, Olive. Lestrade is on his way there now but…I just…she really needs someone there."

Olive doesn't say anything right away, Sherlock just hears rustling from her end of the call.

"Olive? Are you there?"

"Yes, I'm on my way."

"Thank you," Sherlock sighs relief. "She just needs someone there, okay?"

"Okay."

"Lestrade will be there."

"Alright."

"And—"

"Sherlock, I know what to do! I'm calling my dad, too."

"Alright," he nearly whispers.

"I'll call you if I need to."

"Okay."

"Okay. Goodbye."

"Bye," he says, then hangs up.

When Sherlock opens the door to go back to the room, Mycroft meets him at the door.

"What is it?" Sherlock asks.

"Taylor says that Danny hit her three times, then threatened her life if she told anyone. She's afraid he might return, so I told her to lock all the doors until Lestrade shows up."

"Three times?" Sherlock repeats, feeling sick.

"Twice on her face and he kicked her when she fell to the ground. Who did you call?"

"I called Olive. She's going over with her dad, he's a cop too."

Mycroft nods and grasps Sherlock's shoulder. "Good."

Lestrade arrives at Taylor's house a few minutes later, and she takes her laptop downstairs to stay on Skype with Sherlock and Mycroft. They wait for Olive and her dad, then Taylor retells to the cops everything she told Mycroft.

They ask her questions about Danny.

"Sherlock followed him to…was it a house, Sherlock?" Taylor asks.

"You did what?!" Mycroft cries.

"Taylor asked me to check him out, so yeah, I followed him. I'm texting you the address, Lestrade."

Lestrade asks Taylor where else Danny could be. Taylor gives him the address of Danny's house, the bank where he works, Danny's parent's house, and the gym he always goes to.

"I'll find him," Lestrade says. "Taylor, do you have anywhere else you can go? In case he comes back?"

"She can come with us," John announces.

Taylor begins to cry.

Sherlock looks at Olive through the computer screen, and Olive just looks at him and nods. Sherlock knows she's relaying that she'll be nice, that she'll be supportive. And Sherlock mouths "Thank you," to her.

They hang up the call a minute later, and Mycroft sits back and sigh relief.

"I don't like that you're taking on these cases, Sherlock. Taylor should have gone to the police immediately."

"And they could have done what?"

"She could have not been hurt like she was. Yes, you waited to get Lestrade involved with Lily's before that boy could hurt her. But Sherlock…Taylor is hurt. Do you see that?"

Sherlock throws himself off the bed in anger. "Yes, of course I do! Don't you think I feel like complete shit right now? He could have seriously hurt her and it's all my fault!"

Mycroft reaches for him. "It's not your fault, Sherlock, it's the fault of that horrible boy. I'm just saying, Brother, that you need to not keep these things to yourself sometimes."

Sherlock takes a deep breath and nods.

"Taylor is in good hands."

"I should be there."

"There's nothing more you could have done there than here," Mycroft tells him. "I am proud of you."

"For what?"

"For handling that so well."

"Thanks," Sherlock says, not convinced.

Mycroft stands and grasps his shoulder. "How about lunch, then I take you to Ellis Island? I'll keep track of Lestrade, he'll let us know when he finds Danny."

Sherlock nods. "Alright. Thank you."

Mycroft smiles once, then the two brothers leave the house once again.