The Baker Street Brothers

Chapter One

Enzo groans as he pushes himself up, looking round to realise he's in an abandoned building. Getting up he pulls on his jacket as he leaves, walking down the streets of London and trying to hide himself from any security cameras he can see "Enzo." Sherlock says, walking over and alongside him. Enzo sighs "Mycroft call you?' he asks. "That and your bed hasn't been slept in for the past week, Mycroft told me where you were." Sherlock responds. "Shit." Enzo mutters. "Come on, I've got some work to do at St Bart's." Sherlock tells him. "Nope, hard pass. I got things to do." Enzo tells his brother. "Enzo, you either come with me or Mycroft will send someone to pick you up." Sherlock warns. "Fine." Enzo responds, shoving his hands in his pockets. Sherlock motions to a taxi, making it pull up alongside them "In you get." he tells Enzo. Rolling his eyes, Enzo climbs into the taxi with Sherlock following. Enzo pulls his jacket close, sniffing slightly "What was it this time?" Sherlock asks. "Mixture." Enzo responds, looking out the window. "Enzo." Sherlock warns. Enzo reluctantly pulls out a sheet of paper from his pocket, handing it to his brother. Sherlock reads it "All this in the week you've been gone?" he asks. Enzo shrugs "Guess so." he responds. Sherlock sighs and puts the paper in his pocket, making a mental note to message Mycroft about the list later.

Leaning against the wall in the morgue, Enzo watches his brother as he looks at the dead body in the body bag "How fresh?" he asks. "Just in. Sixty-seven, natural causes. He used to work here. I knew him. He was nice." Molly responds. Zipping up the bag, Sherlock straightens and turns to her with a false smile "Fine. We'll start with the riding crop." he tells her, making Molly leave the room. Enzo looks at his shaking hands before sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, not noticing the look of worry on his brother's face. Taking a breath, Enzo closes his eyes as Sherlock starts hitting the body with his riding crop. Molly walks back in as Sherlock finishes and straightens back up "So, bad day, was it?" Molly asks. "I need to know what bruises form in the next twenty minutes. A man's alibi depends on it. Text me." Sherlock tells her, writing in his notebook. "Listen, I was wondering: maybe later, when you're finished-" Molly start. "Are you wearing lipstick? You weren't wearing lipstick before." Sherlock cuts her off, looking up from his notebook. "I, er, I refreshed it a bit." Molly smiles. Sherlock goes back to writing in his notebook "Sorry, you were saying?" he asks. "I was wondering if you'd like to have coffee." Molly tells him. Sherlock puts away his notebook "Black, two sugars, please. I'll be upstairs. Come on Enzo, up you get." he says, going over and pulling Enzo to his feet.

Enzo sits in a spiny chair, spinning himself round before jumping up and running to the bin. Throwing up into the bin, Enzo coughs harshly as his eyes stream. Sherlock drops what he's doing and goes over, rubbing Enzo's back "Easy does it Enzo." he soothes. After a few coughs, Enzo rights himself and wipes his mouth with his sleeve "You finished?" Sherlock asks him. Nodding, Enzo lets Sherlock help him up and onto a chair "Stay there." his brother tells him. Enzo nods and leans against the table, looking round the room and making deductions about who's recently been in the room. As he does, Mike Stamford walks in with another man "Well, bit different from my day." the man says, looking round. "You've no idea!" Mike responds. "Mike, can I borrow your phone? There's no signal on mine." Sherlock asks, Enzo looking at his brother. "And what's wrong with the landline?" Mike asks. "He prefers to text." Enzo tells him. "Sorry. It's in my coat." Mike tells him. The man next to Mike fishes out his phone "Er, here. Use mine." he tells Sherlock. "Oh. Thank you." Sherlock responds, getting up and going over to take the phone. "It's an old friend of mine, John Watson." Mike introduces. Sherlock reaches John and takes his phone "Afghanistan or Iraq?" he asks, beginning to type.

John frowns as Mike smiles knowingly "Sorry?" John asks. "Which was it, Afghanistan or Iraq?" Enzo asks. John hesitates and looks across to Mike in confusion, Mike smiling smugly "Afghanistan. Sorry, how did you know...?" John asks. Sherlock looks up as Molly walks in holding a mug of coffee "Ah, Molly, coffee. Thank you." he smiles, giving John his phone back. Molly passes him the mug, Sherlock looking at her closely "What happened to the lipstick?" he asks. Molly smiles awkwardly "It wasn't working for me." she responds. "Really? I thought it was a big improvement. Your mouth's too small now." Sherlock tells her, turning and taking a sip from the mug. Sherlock grimaces slightly at the taste, Enzo smiling slightly "...Okay." Molly says quietly, walking out the room again. "How do you feel about the violin?" Sherlock asks John. "I'm sorry, what?" John asks. "I play the violin when I'm thinking. Sometimes I don't talk for days on end. Enzo plays the flute and disappears randomly, sometimes for a few days. Would that bother you? Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other." Sherlock explains. "Oh, you... you told him about me?" John asks Mike. "Not a word." Mike responds with a smile.

"Then who said anything about flatmates?" John frowns. "I did. Told Mike this morning that Enzo and I must be difficult men to find a flatmate for. Now here he is just after lunch with an old friend, clearly just home from military service in Afghanistan. Wasn't that difficult a leap." Sherlock explains, picking up his jacket and putting it on. "How did you know about Afghanistan?" John asks. Sherlock ignores the question and wraps his scarf around his neck, Enzo running a hand through his hair as Sherlock picks up his mobile and checks it "Got my eye on a nice little place in central London. Together we ought to be able to afford it. We'll meet there tomorrow evening; seven o'clock. Sorry, gotta dash. I think I left my riding crop in the mortuary." Sherlock says, going towards the door. Enzo gets up, wobbling slightly as he follows his brother to the door. Sherlock steadies him as they reach the door "Is that it?" John asks. "Is that what?" Sherlock frowns. "We've only just met and we're gonna go and look at a flat?" John tells him. "Problem?" Enzo asks. "We don't know a thing about each other; I don't know where we're meeting; I don't even know your names." John tells them.

"We know you're an Army doctor and you've been invalided home from Afghanistan. We know you've got a brother who's worried about you but you won't go to him for help because you don't approve of him, possibly because he's an alcoholic." Enzo starts. "More likely because he recently walked out on his wife. And we know that your therapist thinks your limp's psychosomatic, quite correctly, I'm afraid. That's enough to be going on with, don't you think?" Sherlock finishes. The brothers walk out, Sherlock turning back and sticking his head back in the room "The name's Sherlock and Lorenzo Holmes and the address is two two one B Baker Street. Afternoon." he says, walking out after sending John a wink. Enzo smiles slightly as he walks down the corridor, stumbling slightly and leaning against the wall "Okay, let's get you home. You need to sleep this off." Sherlock tells him, steadying him. "I'm alright, just a bit dizzy." Enzo waves him off. "No you're not, you took too much. Come on." Sherlock tells him sternly, helping him down the corridor.

Once back at the flat, Sherlock makes Enzo sit on the sofa "Stay put." he tells him, walking into the kitchen. Enzo rolls his eyes and curls up on the sofa, pulling his knees to his chin as he lies down. Sherlock walks back in with a mug in hand "Drink." he tells his brother. Enzo shakes his head "Just gonna sleep." he mumbles. "When was the last time you drank something other than alcohol? Or ate something?" Sherlock asks. Enzo doesn't respond, closing his eyes "Exactly, now just drink the tea." Sherlock tells him, putting the tea on the coffee table. Enzo groans and sits up, shakily picking up the mug and beginning to drink "You told Mycroft?" he asks. "Not yet. All I said was I found you and you were home." Sherlock responds. Enzo hums slightly "What about mum and dad?" he asks. "Don't even know you disappeared for a week, Mycroft told them you were sick and resting." Sherlock tells him, making Enzo nod in response. "I didn't mean to disappear for a week." he mumbles. "I know and so does Mycroft." Sherlock responds. Enzo sighs and drinks the rest of his tea, putting the mug back on the table "I'm going bed." he decides, stumbling as he gets up. Sherlock nods, grabbing his violin and beginning to play as he watches Enzo leave the room.