The sister... [Recently edited]

Chapter 11 - And Home... [EDITED]

Mykala POV

The familiar sight of 221B Baker Street came into view as I pulled Mycroft's car into a parking space opposite the flat.

Home.

For the last time.

I picked up my overnight bag, locked the car and let myself inside using the spare key Sherlock had insisted I keep.

The door had barely closed before Mrs Hudson appeared in the hallway.

"Mykala!" she exclaimed, pulling me into a hug. "It's lovely to see you, dear."

"It's good to be back, Mrs H."

"I've just made a fresh pot of coffee."

"You read my mind."

She smiled knowingly.

"I'll leave your bag upstairs."

I thanked her before climbing the familiar stairs.

Everything looked exactly as I'd left it.

The chemistry equipment.

The violin.

The skull on the mantelpiece.

Nothing had changed.

Except him.

Sherlock was asleep in his armchair, curled awkwardly beneath an old grey hoodie.

I frowned.

He never slept this deeply.

Quietly, I wandered into his bedroom.

Papers covered every available surface.

Books were stacked haphazardly.

As I turned to leave, a loose floorboard caught my attention.

"No..."

My stomach tightened.

Lifting it carefully, I found a packet of white powder and a box of unopened syringes.

Unopened.

He hadn't crossed the line.

Not yet.

I closed my eyes.

He'd been close enough.

Taking everything back into the sitting room, I laid it on the coffee table before calling John.

"...You found what?"

"Come home."

"I'm leaving now."

Twenty minutes later John burst through the front door.

His expression darkened the moment he saw the drugs.

"He bought them?"

I nodded.

"I don't think he's used them."

John examined the syringes.

"They're still sealed."

He sighed heavily.

"Lestrade said he hasn't slept properly in four days."

Together we walked over to Sherlock.

John nudged his shoulder.

Nothing.

"Sherlock."

Still nothing.

Eventually John shook him harder.

Sherlock blinked awake, looking completely disoriented.

His eyes found me.