Like Wire (A BBC Sherlock Fan Fiction)

[thirteen]

John slouched into his room, used to the cold, empty bed that his none existent friend used to sleep in. It was strange, the teachers didn't know where he had gone and John had heard Mycroft basically ordering the headteacher not to call the police.

He reached out for one of the thin curtains and was about to close it when the silhouette of a figure sent him stumbling back.

The figure was on the balcony, invisible from afar due to the darkness of the sky - yet up close it was obvious he was there, perched on the railings with his legs swinging dangerously off.

The person looked like they were about to jump off.

John cautiously approached the large window, knowing the balcony wasn't technically made for people to stand on.

"Are you okay?" He called out to the boy, arranging himself so he was sitting on the window ledge, "Are you trying to... kill yourself?"

"Yep,"

There was a heart stopping silence as Johns tiny human brain managed to figure out who was speaking, what was happening.

"I'm so going to push you off," John snarled, jumping from the window and landing on the weak balcony.

"Go for it, I just told you I was going to kill myself, but murder sounds more interesting," Sherlock admitted.

"You're not actually going to kill yourself, are you?" John's voice wavered.

"Well I'm not now!" Sherlock yelled.

"So... you were?"

"Falling off a balcony? It's a bit cliché," Sherlock groaned.

"Exactly," John chuckled, "now get the hell inside before I do chuck you off,"

* * *

Sherlock kept pulling annoyed and bored faces at John as Mycroft continued to interrogate his silent little brother. John could understand why, Mycroft was certainly taking this seriously.

"Sherlock Holmes what the hell were you doing?" He bellowed.

"I went out," Sherlock blankly explained.

"You went out and did what exactly?" Mycroft continued, forcefully.

"Went for a walk,"

"It's been weeks! The police were looking for you at one point Sherlock!" Mycroft screeched.

"That was silly of them,"

"What did you do on this so called walk?"

Mycroft kept his hands formally behind his back, pacing the length of Sherlock's bed, where Sherlock was lazily sprawled across.

"I walked," Sherlock sneered.

"And?" Mycroft persisted

"Walked some more?"

"Sherlock are you high?" Mycroft snapped, leaning in over his brother to examine him.

"No!" He snarled, swatting at Mycroft unwelcomingly, "Me? High? Never!" 

Mycroft smiled bitterly and scanned his brother one last time, not moving his eyes as he reversed his body towards the exit.

"We're here for you," Mycroft added, his face not changing from its state of sombre.

"That's wonderful," Sherlock retorted sarcastically.

"We need to talk," Mycroft claimed, rocking at the now opened door.