First Time On the Tube

Cambridge

Mycroft Holmes was not a particularly patient man. In fact, there were only three people in the world with whom he had any patience at all, and those were his parents and his childish little brother. Especially his little brother. What else could he do?

When he received the call that Sherlock had been taken to hospital again, he very literally dropped his coffee mug. When he was told that Sherlock had run away as soon as the doors were opened, he did something that he would never do ordinarily: Mycroft ran.

He nearly leapt into his limousine, barking orders to the driver to take him directly to the hospital Sherlock had been driven to. As soon as he arrived, he asked the woman at the desk where he could find the paramedics who had lost his brother. At first, she didn't want to tell him, but as usual his identification card got him what he wanted.

The paramedic told him that Sherlock had passed out on the tube, that no real problems had been immediately spotted, and that he had pretended to be calm but had run straight away, leaving just the wallet and ID.

Mycroft swore under his breath, another thing he didn't usually do, knowing precisely what had happened and where Sherlock was. He took the wallet and card and left, headed straight towards Cambridge. He had intended to get Sherlock there to help as quickly as possible; he had not intended for Sherlock to intentionally possibly endanger his own health to beat someone who wasn't even coming.

It took no less than half an hour to arrive at the crime scene, where he immediately saw Sherlock sitting smugly and waiting for him.

"Caring is not an advantage," he smirked. "I win again." He looked perfectly all right from what Mycroft could see.

"For goodness sakes, Sherlock. That was childish. The whole ploy to divert me to make up for lost time? You understand I wasn't actually coming?" Sherlock looked angry, and with good reason.

"How on Earth was I supposed to know that? You sent me a text saying, and I quote, 'meet me here,' and the address." Sherlock stomped away.

"How do you intend to get back to London, brother dear? Are you going to walk? Perhaps take the tube again? I hear that worked out well last time. You fainted, I hear, from overstimulation."

Sherlock didn't look back. The only sign that he had heard what Mycroft had said was a slight stiffening. Mycroft sighed as he walked away.