𝓘'𝓶 𝓪 𝓜𝓸𝓷𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻 , 𝖉𝖆𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖌

Chapter~4~The List, Sherlock.

*Three Weeks Later*

"Where is my brother?" Mycroft Holmes sighed, although it was late, his office was as bright as day. His mother had rung him, panicking. Sherlock was gone. 

"First Eurus, then Sherrinford, now my Sherlock. Don't lose him, Myke." 

His mother's words echoed in his head. Sherlock had of course discovered the tracking device in his shoes, and removed it, giving Mycroft no idea of his whereabouts. If he wanted, his younger brother could hide for weeks. Where are you? In some back alley? Alone. Hurt even?  Mycroft was the eldest now, Sherlock was his responsibility. But he had not watched over him. Even as children, Sherlock was always by himself, especially after his friend had gone. Redbeard. 

"Get my car." he ordered one of his staff, standing up, reaching for his grey umbrella, which matched his suit and mood. The rain outside had not stopped for the two and a half days, London seemed half drowned. Sighing, Mycroft made his way outside, where he had to stand for a minute or two in the rain, until the car arrived. "Leg work." moaned Mycroft to himself, sliding into the car. "Take me to Scotland Yard." 

When the long, black car pulled up outside the building, the rain had reduced to a dribble. Mycroft opened up his umbrella in the car, to ensure he did not get any wetter than he had to. In doing so, he hit hone of his staff in the face. Two polished black shoes stepped over the gutter, and onto the pavement. Sighing, and muttering something about 'useless policemen', Mycroft stepped inside. 

Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade, was eating donuts in his office, while flicking through pages of Instagram on his phone. Miss Donovan opened the door, and even before she spoke, Greg sighed. Although Donovan was useful..well, sometimes useful, her opinions and negativity did rather get on Lestrade's nerves. 

"Yes?" Lestrade asked, between a mouthful of donut. 

"He's here." she responded, making a face at the crumbs on Greg's shirt. 

"Mycroft?" Questioned Lestrade, a little dismayed. He was looking forward to going home, but of course the Mr. Holmes had to turn up. Before he had said another word, Mycroft Holmes pushed passed Donovan. "My brother is missing." 

"Well, I'm very sorry to hear it, sir." Greg said, standing. 

"I want you to search every doss house in London, until you find him." Mr. Holmes commanded. 

Detective Lestrade held back a sigh of annoyance. That would take hours. He wouldn't be leaving Scotland Yard tonight. 

"Start immediately," Mycroft said in that very proper tone, and with a flick of his umbrella, he sauntered out of the room. 

"Damn." Lestrade cursed. "Alright, Donovan, organize a search." 

Miss Donovan rolled her eyes, and with a toss of her frizzy hair, she stalked off. 

*Seven Hours Later*

Maybe it was the rain on his lashes, or the powerful drug running throughout his system, but it seemed as though the world around him was blurry. Trying move to the right, so that the rain dripping through the roof would not trickle down his curly hair, Sherlock gave a small moan. His head swam, and his stomach cramped. This wasn't usually what happened. He curled up on the floor, holding his knees to his chest. Another agonizing cramp. Half asleep, he muttered the name of his brother. But he knew Mycroft would not find him here. He did not want to be found, not because of fear of punishment, but out of shame. Holding his hand out in front of him, he watched it shake. He could not control it.