Together at Last

Coming Back

"How is he?"

Mycroft sits on the edge of the couch, face still swollen from Sherlocks attack. I lie him back against the couch, taking Mycroft into the kitchen. He winces as I check out the bruising, accepting the ice I bring to him.

"Does it hurt?"

"A little. I'm fine."

He takes the ice from me and keeps it pressed to his face, sitting at the counter.

"Has he talked to you yet?"

"Not yet."

"Has he done this to you before?"

"Yeah. A few times actually."

"And how many times did you have to restrain him and forcefully administer medications?"

"Every time he gets this bad."

"How often?"

"It happened a lot before he met you. After though, things got better. He felt like he had someone to talk to, someone he could trust. Then Moriarty got to him with the drugs and things got a lot worse. After he was kidnapped though..."

"What happened to him?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why is he like this?"

"Our father hates him, never wasted a chance to abuse him. Moriarty started him off on drugs and things spiraled out of control. He stopped trusting everyone but you, though I'm sure things where a tad more distant at first."

"Oh."

"He...he um...talked to me a little bit after he got back from the hospital, after he was taken. Told me if Moriarty ever came back, things would get bad again. Told me what he had gone through. When you went missing, everything was worse."

His voice cracks, tears mingling with the leaking water from his ice to run down his face. I sit still, not sure how to console him. Our cells buzz and we reluctantly check them. Another photo.

"Go get his cell. Now."

Mycroft runs out of the room, returning with Sherlocks cell a few moments later. I look at mine, seeing a video pop up next. Mycroft forces himself to watch it with me, wincing every time Sherlock is hit. He shuts it off when Sherlock moves in the video, unable to watch his conscious brother be beaten bloody.

"What does he want Mycroft?"

"I dont know."

He switches on the kitchen telly, turning on the news. I wish he hadn't, news of Sherlocks abduction footage has spread like wildfire. We sit in stunned silence as another video plays on screen, Sherlock begging Moriarty to leave me out of things. I start crying again and Mycroft shuts it off. Just in time, as Sherlock walks in seconds after. We offer him food, but he just sits on a stool and lies against the counter. Depressed again.

"I want some."

"Some what Sherlock?"

We stare at him in shock and disappointment as we realize what he means. Mycroft has since moved the sedatives, but we are still worried. Sherlock will find them eventually, its just a matter of time before someone slips up. I stand next to him as he starts crying, letting him lean against me.

"I'm sorry."

Those two words almost reduce Mycroft and I to tears, he still rarely utters them.

"I'm failing all of you right now. I'm sorry."

He collapses suddenly, pulling me to the ground with him. Mycroft watches helplessly as I try to calm him down. I am suddenly pushed away when Sherlock pulls himself up, walking into the other room. We folliw him worredly, nothing good can come of this. He is tearing apart the room, throwing things onto the hardwood. Mycroft inhales sharply when he realizes what Sherlock is doing, I see it too.