Goldfish ||BBC Sherlock||

1.

Mid-Autumn, 1993

"Wait here."

The passenger tossed a couple pounds into the front seat and exited the cab. The cars engine was cut off leaving the neatly dressed man to face the back ally in the dim light of a fading day. He pulled a small notebook from his jacket and peered down at the contents before making his way along the dingy corridor. He walked briskly past a huddle of men trying to ignore the grueling smell of grime, body oder and chemical residue. He pulled his jacket over his nose in disgust and continued on.

It wasn't long before he found him. He paused at a heaping pile of clothing and curly black hair and replaced the notebook. He scooped up one of three discarded syringes at his feet and examined it without expression. Kneeling down he placed it in his inside pocket and glared at the chemical disaster he called his brother. He leaned in closer.

" Where's the list?"

" Go away."

A rough voice replied from beneath the heap of wool and grime. The older man reached forward and tried to take his brothers arm but he pulled away violently almost knocking himself over.

" Go. Away!"

He demanded again curling up defensively. Mycroft retracted for a moment almost daring him to make another move like that. Then all hell broke loose. With sudden and unforgiving brutality, Mycroft pulled his stunned brother to his feet and brought him to eye level.

" Don't you dare infuriate me more than you already have brother mine. I am the only friend you've got right now and frankly I have half a mind to let you suffer mum's rage alone. Now move. Or I will remove you physically."

He shoved Sherlock down the ally and watched as he almost toppled over. Instead, Sherlock reeled around and stood as defiantly as any high man could.

" I'd like to see you try."

Sherlock challenged and stared him dead on. With that said, Mycroft swiftly grabbed him by the front of the coat and drug him flailing and shouting toward the car. The huddle of men watched from the shadows, eyes dilated, as their fellow addict was manhandled into the cab.

When he finally contained his sibling the cabbie restarted the vehicle and Mycroft entered from the opposite side. Tires squealed on the wet cobble stone as it pulled away leaving the drug den behind.

·····

The door to the cottage opened to reveal the two brothers standing side by side. The older dim eyed and emotionless and the younger slouched in a dark wool jacket, pale and trembling. Mrs.Holmes looked at the duo with a deadly mix of relief and fury. Mycroft looked down and back up again eyebrows cocked and hands in pockets.

" I found something I thought you might want returned."

Sherlock shoved past them mumbling about "spoiling his thought processes" and tried to slink away but Mrs. Holmes broke from her trace and turned on him. Her eyes seemed to glow bright with maternal hell fire as she rebuked him.

" William Sherlock Scott Holmes you stop right there! Don't you EVER do that again, do you understand me? Sit in your room right this minute and don't you dare think about moving until I come for you. Now!"

She bellowed as he begrudgingly altered his trajectory from the kitchen and towards the stair case. As he disappeared around the corner she turned back to her son and took a deep breath. Stepping aside she motioned toward the interior.

" Come on then. You have some explaining to do."

·····

" Where are you working now? Still at that little shop on the corner?"

Mycroft nodded and crossed his legs. He had told his parents quite some time ago that he had taken up book keeping for a local shop in London, but that had in fact been a lie. A necessary one. In all honesty, he hadn't had much work at all lately. Probably to do with how much attention he was getting from his uncle. It seemed every week he had been getting notes from him, suggesting they need to talk. But he couldn't, he wanted nothing to do with humans. Let alone the anyone of any blood relation. Mycroft straightened his shirt sleeve and smiled emotionlessly.

" Yes. Been rather slow lately. Not as many people coming in as there used to be."

Mrs. Holmes nodded and took another sip of her tea, looking sidelong at the syringe her son had set on the coffee table. The scene seemed to freeze as both mother and older brother stared disappointedly at the weapon of mass destruction. She seemed to age in the moment.

" What am I going to do with him Mycroft. I can't very well keep him locked upstairs forever. He'd find a way out eventually."

She mused over her beverage seeming to be in far off thought. Mycroft nodded again and sighed fiddling with his sleeve. This had been the third time in the last couple of months he had scoured the local drug dens for his brother and he feared that it was becoming more than an addiction. Soon enough it could become a habit, a life style. Ultimately his demise. The thought whirled through his head repeatedly, seeming to burn a hole in the side of his mind. No. He couldn't lose another one. His thoughts were interrupted as one of his mother's comments slipped through the cracks of his subconscious.

" You'll continue keeping an eye on him, won't you Mikey?"

" Of course."

~To be continued~