"That's everything. Make sure he gets fed tonight Sherlock, I expect to see you both here at next weeks appointment please."
He nods again, opening a back door and pointing for me to get in. The door closes softly behind me, drivers side door opening and closing as he gets in and starts the car. I notice a faint smell of blood, sniffing around until I find a crimson stained jacket stuffed under a seat, sleeves stained with blood that can't be more than a few hours old. The car lurches forward, throwing me to the ground as Sherlock drives out of the car park and down the lane. We drive for another hour or so before pulling up a long winding driveway, coming to a stop in front of a Victorian style house. Sherlock pulls out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes, lighting one and smoking it slowly as he waits for something. A call comes through on his cell, his heart rate spiking when he sees who is calling. He ignores the call, flinching when it finally stops ringing and the car returns to silence.
"You ready to go inside?"
I tip my head to the side, not moving until he opens my door and grabs my leash. The porch creaks loudly when we put our weight on it, charred mahogany doors swinging open with screams of protest as Sherlock pushes them open.
"We're home!"
His voice echoes through what is left of the darkened house, rats squeaking as they run through the long abandoned halls of what used to be a grand mansion. No one responds to Sherlock but the wind, silence enveloping us as we sit on the floor at the base of the crumbling staircase. He pulls a black box out of his coat pocket, opening the lid to reveal a long, thin needle and a vial of clearish liquid. I watch him cautiously, whining softly as he injects the contents of the vial into his veins and sets down the needle. After about ten minutes he relaxes significantly, eyes closing slowly as he breathes deeply. The phone rings again and, being ignored by Sherlock, goes to voicemail as he falls asleep. Someone bursts through to door suddenly, pulling me from my uneasy sleep and to my feet. I growl lowly, but don't make any further moves of aggression towards the red haired boy that is coming towards us slowly.
"Sherlock, come on. You shouldn't be in here and you know it."
His voice trails off when he sees Sherlock, noticing just in time as he stops breathing.
"Fucking hell..."
I let the older boy pass, watching closely as he rolls Sherlock onto his back and starts chest compressions until he struggles to sit up.
"What were you thinking Sherlock! Mummy is in the hospital right now, and we should be there too, but you're too busy trying to kill yourself again!"
I flinch, growling again as he reaches out towards Sherlock.
"Let's get you home, I'll go see her later. Okay?"
Sherlock nods weakly, wrapping his arms around the other boys neck and leaning his head on his shoulder.
"Dog."
"What about it?"
"Mine."
Sherlock's voice is slurred, words unsure and hard to understand.
"Mycroft...get my...my dog."
"It's yours?"
He nods silently, looking down at me briefly before falling asleep again. We pull away from the empty house, the shell of past glory, as Sherlock falls asleep beside me in the back seat, the empty shell of a boy that was once full of life.
