221B Baker Street (A Sherlock Fanfic)

High

"Sherlock?" Mycroft called as he walked into 221B the next day to check on his brother. "Sherlock, what are you doing?"

The detective was moving around quickly in his kitchen, tearing open and slamming cabinet doors. "Oh, hello, Mycroft. I'm just looking for my tea. I can't seem to find it," he blurted out.

Mycroft knew instantly that Sherlock was high. He was in too good of a mood and too hyper-active to not be high. He sighed deeply and picked up the cup of tea that was sitting right on the kitchen table. "This cup of tea?"

"No, not that – actually, yes. That cup of tea. Thank you, brother dear." Sherlock took it, sipped it, and then spit it out. "This tastes horrible. How could anyone make a cup of tea this bad? Mrs. Hudson!"

The landlady ran up the stairs. "Sherlock? What is it? What's happened?"

Sherlock gestured to the cup of tea he was holding in his hand. "I can't drink this tea. It's disgusting. What did you put in it?"

Mrs. Hudson shook her head and laughed. "I didn't make you any tea, dear."

"You didn't? Oh, wait... I think I did." He shrugged and sniffed the cup, then slammed it down on the table. Pointing at the liquid, he grimaced, "Yeah, there's piss in that."

Her laugh immediately stopped and she looked worriedly to Mycroft. "Sherlock, why don't you go have a seat in your chair? Mycroft and I need to talk alone for a moment."

"Hm, okay," he mumbled. He wandered over to his chair and plopped down, patting his hands on the armrests. "Rather comfy today."

"I swear I don't know when he started using again, Mycroft. When I checked on him after you left, he was sound asleep, so I let him be. He seemed fine this morning, too." She shook her head in disbelief and sat down at the table. "I shouldn't have left him alone at all."

Mycroft raised his eyebrows and paced around the kitchen. "You and I both know there wasn't a way to prevent this from happening. Once John cut Sherlock off, I knew it was inevitable. I tried looking for his stash yesterday, but he had it hidden too well."

The second Mrs. Hudson started to cry, Mycroft walked over to her and put his hand on her shoulder. "There, there," he said in an attempt to comfort her, but it came out sounding rather awkward.

"What are we going to do about him? He's lost his best friend, he's blaming himself for Mary's death, and he's using drugs again. The boy is an absolute mess, Mycroft," she sobbed.

Mycroft was silent for a moment as he thought about what to say. He had already come up with an idea, but he knew that Mrs. Hudson wasn't going to like it one bit.

Pulling out a chair, he sat down across from her. "Generally, in this kind of situation, the user would be sent to a rehabilitation clinic," he explained. "Sherlock, however, has done that before, and he would never go back. They wouldn't be able to help him anyway. I think that this time we just need to let things play out, see what happens. I don't like this suggestion any more than you do, but we both know that Sherlock can't be helped. Until John comes back, he simply can't be helped."

Mrs. Hudson listened to Mycroft speak, and although it upset her, she knew he was right. She nodded and said, "Okay. We'll let it play out, but I'm keeping an eye on him. I want you to also stop by as much as you can."

"I'm a very busy man, you know," he stated. After seeing Mrs. Hudson's glare, he added, "But I will try my best to be here for him."