I am not lonely [Mystrade]

CHAPTER 29 : A hoodlum from Camden

Mycroft was sat in an armchair beside the hospital bed where his brother was laid down. He was consulting a beige file, not whiling to leave the hospital before being sure Sherlock was going to be fine and hearing about what had happened to him.
The younger Holmes was still sleeping when Gregory joined his partner after taking a nap and spending his afternoon at Scotland Yard. He sat on the armrest of his husband's chair, putting an arm around his shoulders and placing a kiss on his cheek. "You should sleep a little darling. You are a walking dead." he whispered to his ear.
"I can't sleep, not until I'm sure Sherlock will make it." answered the other one, closing the file he was reading and looking at his sleeping brother.
"Take a few minutes out of this room at least. Go and have yourself a coffee at the cafeteria maybe ?" begged the detective. Mycroft nodded, knowing that Greg would advise him if the consulting detective awaken. He grabbed his jacket laid on the end of the bed and exited the room while the yarder was sitting in the armchair his boyfriend had just left. John was asleep in the second armchair of the room, snoring gently. He had arrived at the hospital minutes after the helicopter had dropped the two Holmes and the inspector on the roof, 12 hours earlier.
It's only a couple of hours later, Mycroft being back in his armchair, Greg having brought one from the corridor for himself, that Sherlock awaken, his eyes still feverish of the painkiller he had received. He opened his mouth, trying to talk, but his tongue was too dry. Mycroft poured him a glass of water from a jar placed on the bedside table and helped his brother drinking it slowly. "Brother mine." the young man whispered, his voice rough. The official clamped the black-haired's hand and glanced a look at his partner, asking him silently to let him alone with his brother. The DI stood up, nodding toward John to follow him and both of them exited the room, taking a seat in the corridor, to exhausted to talk.
Mycroft moved his armchair to sat the closest to the bed he could possibly be, his eyes fixed on Sherlock who was trying to sit up against the bedhead. They stayed silent for a few more minutes before the consulting detective spoke again. "Thank you." he said, struggling to keep his eyes open.
"Why were you in ParisSherlock ?" asked the auburn, trying to keep his voice low. There was no angriness in him at the moment, he never had any ressentiment against his brother when he put himself in that kind of situation because he knew that it was just his proclivity for danger and self destruction that made him behave in this way. As much as he could become furious to him for his sometime childish behaviours, every time the younger Holmes ended up in the hospital whether it was fo rhis drug use or for seriously injuring himself, he was always by his side, constantly worried not only about what he could do to other, but even more about what he could do to himself.
"I needed to see Henry and I didn't wanted you to know about it." explained the consulting detective. He had now closed his eyes, unable to keep it open because of the crude light of the room.
Henry McGregor was an ex-boxer turned into an amphetamine dealer that Sherlock had met some years ago in one of the shady place he sometime haunted and with whom the younger Holmes had had an umbrageous relationship since then, developing a sort of dependence to this poisonous man. Three years ago one encounter with McGregor already had sent Sherlock to the hospital with a severe head trauma after the two of them had got an argument and the boxer had punched the detective down a staircase. After this episode the younger Holmes had promised his brother that he'd stop seeing the dealer but he apparently had lied, even if Mycroft was pretty sure it was the first time the consulting detective had broke his pledge.
"I couldn't hold it anymore" resumed the black-haired in an apologetic voice after a few seconds of silence.
"But why him ?" wondered the official. "There is other people that could ... satisfy you.". He was trying to be careful not to upset his younger brother by revealing that he knew more than what the consulting detective had told him.
Sherlock remained silent for a few seconds, opening his eyes to stare at his brother before closing them again. "I needed him. I've tried to resist, to find someone else but no one can give me what he gave me. No one who would want of me..." he soughed, a painful expression on his face.
Sherlock had always been quite melodramatic but his pain was real this time remarked the auburn. He then had someone in his mind, someone who he thought would not want of a relationship with him and this rejection had pushed him back in McGregor's arms, in an ultimate self-destruction response.