A Study In Sleep

Chapter. 19

Mycorft was happily at home in front of fire, just coming off the phone with Gregory as he took small sips from his scotch. He had just pulled out a book, happily sat alone knowing the man he loved was out of prison and Sherlock was in good hands with John. He didn't need to worry and finally he has some time to himself.

But to the unfortunate incident earlier, he wouldn't have the time to himself exactly.

The phone suddenly rang on the sideboard, buzzing as it did almost. Screaming out to be answered as it sat.

Mycroft glanced to his phone, eyes narrowing before it dawned him on who could be ringing. Certainly not Gregory and not Sherlock. If it was John, which he knew it was, there was a problem work Sherlock. He quickly got to his feet, heading to the sideboard as he picked up the phone, placing to his ear.
"John? What's happened? Where is Sherlock?" He asked quickly, getting straight to the point.
"I don't know. He just ran off.. that's why I'm calling you." John spoke quick, obviously himself as scared as mycroft was, "he panicked and.. something happened and then ran." He let out a shaky breath, "I'm out looking for him now, but I really need you to help me.." he replied eagerly.

Mycroft sighed, rubbing his eyes a moment. Much to John's obliviousness, this was a regular occurrence when Sherlock was younger, just after university.

He could guess what happened, knowing exactly what could cause Sherlock to panic and run away. He assured John they would find him, Mycroft getting Anthea onto the most common locations Sherlock normally ran to.

He kept calm, for John’s sake, meeting him and heading to different locations. After seven places it was the last one that worried Mycroft the most, knowing exactly what this location could hold and what state he could be in. He walked at the same pace as John, heading into Camden, not as rough as some areas but rough enough for Mycroft to be seen in. He turned to John after a moment, pausing a moment as he gazed with stern eyes.
“Where we are heading.. it isn’t one for the faint-hearted. Being an army doctor helps you though right now, you need to help him." He paused, keeping his eyes forward as they walked, "He will undoubtedly be high. Probably passed out. Just, don’t be angry at him. He is afraid, and you.. kissing him.. was undoubtedly one of the best moments of his life even if right now it doesn’t seem it. He won’t let me help him, it’s all up to you.” Mycroft stated firmly and before John could even answer he continued walking. He paused as he gazed down a rather dark, filthy alley. Sherlock wasn’t alone if he was here, several other homeless and drug infected residents sat against the walls.

But there right at the back, was the detective, laid in a ball on the floor, his coat around him and seemed to be shivering. What both John and Mycroft were unaware of was that Sherlock was having an allergic reaction to one of the drugs, a small pile of vomit beside him. It had happened before with Mycroft and he instantly recognised the smell.
“I’ll call an ambulance.” He stated, quickly as they approached.

John nodded in response, feeling tense yet fearful for the detective. The smell of vomit and concoction of fumes making his stomach flip, though he kept calm. Picking up his pace slightly as they finally reached the detective and also finally crouching beside him,
"Sherlock.." he said softly, his hand on the madman's cheek, checking if he had any sense of consciousness yet also checking his pulse, "his pulse is pretty fast.." he muttered, getting his keys out of his pocket- which had a torch keychain on- and flicked on the small torch to check his vitals.
"How long till they can get here?" John asked, looking at Mycroft on the phone as he kept close to the detective. Keeping his own worry at bay and medical knowledge at hand.

Mycroft’s eyes were even full of worry as he gazed down to his brother and the army doctor, on the phone to the ambulance before hanging up.
“5 minutes.” He answered as he crouched down by John, wanting to say something but couldn’t.

As for Sherlock, he continued to shiver though he instantly heard John, muscles shifting uncomfortably as he tried everything in his power to shift closer but instead he vomited again, gasping for air afterwards. He was becoming weaker and he was pale, so pale.
“Sherlock.. stay awake for us.” Mycroft said softly, though the detective was having difficulty, shaking and shivering, his body betraying him.

"He's had an allergic reaction by the looks of it.." John muttered as held the detective's cold hand. Looking at the man with concern then back up to Mycroft, "we might have to move outside him ourselves.." he said, staying calm before putting his keys back into his pocket.
Mycroft nodded at this as he placed his arms under Sherlock’s knees, the detective gasping for air as he continued to shiver, his hand loosely holding to John’s even if he thought he was holding to it tightly. In the distance was the sound of a siren, Mycroft glancing up before back down to Sherlock.
“He’s becoming drowsy. We need to be quick.” He stated, Mycroft noticing the shift in his brother's breathing.

John nodded as he let go of Sherlock's hand and held just under the detective's arms,
"it's going to be okay, Sherlock.." he reassured gently as they picked him up. Holding him carefully, as though not to get sick on his shoes or to drop their precious cargo.

Mycroft held to him closely as they made their way to the street, the government official resting his brother back to the floor. The detective was still gasping for air, only just about hearing John’s voice, which was the most wonderful comfort to Sherlock, in everything he did. He was drowsy, even if his pulse was erratic.

"He's finding it hard to breathe.." John muttered as he knelt next to the detective, hearing the sirens near them, "go get them paramedics while I try to help him out.." He barked as he began to loosen any tight clothing that might've been making it difficult for him to breathe.

Mycroft nodded as he began to head down the road at a fast pace, glancing back to John and his brother knowing he was in good hands. As for Sherlock, he still gasped for breath, body softly shivering and shaking as he shifted uncomfortably. It wasn’t long before the paramedics and the ambulance were there, the detective very drowsily beginning to mumble in fear, almost like he wanted no-one but John near him.