Chapter Twelve

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Enzo lies curled up under his bed covers, shivering and sweating "Enzo?" Sherlock asks, knocking on the door

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Enzo lies curled up under his bed covers, shivering and sweating "Enzo?" Sherlock asks, knocking on the door. "Mmm?" he responds making his brother open the door. Sherlock walks in and sits on the edge of the bed "You want anything?" he asks. Enzo shakes his head, burrowing deeper into his covers "Okay." Sherlock nods. Enzo sits up and runs to his bin, sticking his head in the bin and throwing up. Sherlock goes over and gently rubs his back "Sherlock, please just-" Enzo starts. "Not happening, Enzo." Sherlock cuts him off. Enzo groans and sticks his head in the bin again as he throws up, Sherlock rubbing his back again. Groaning, Enzo falls into Sherlock's side "Come on, back to bed." Sherlock tells him. "Mhm." Enzo hums, letting Sherlock help him up and tuck him into his bed. "Get some sleep, I'll come check on you again in a bit." Sherlock says, taking the bin out with him. Enzo curls under the covers, covering his head with the blankets.

Downstairs, John looks at Sherlock "He's fine, nearly through the worst of it." Sherlock tells him. "Has this happened a lot? Him using that much then having go cold turkey?" John asks. "Been happening since he was fourteen, he lost his best friend that he'd known since birth. He got better because of his fiancé that he met when he was seventeen but then he lost her and their unborn son last year." Sherlock explains. "Jesus." John comments, Sherlock going and sorting the bin out. John frowns "Has he ever gone to talk to anyone about it?" he asks. "Hm? Oh, Mycroft tried to make him but he ran away for three weeks in response. Decided it was best to not make him go after that." Sherlock responds. "Three weeks?!" John asks. "Yeah, even kept off Mycroft's radar. We're still not sure how, we have theories but they never worked out." Sherlock tells him. "You and Mycroft don't know how he disappeared for three weeks?" John frowns. "Yep." Sherlock nods, sitting in his chair. "H-How, I mean..." John trails off in shock. Sherlock doesn't respond, typing away on his phone "Right, well, I'm going to go to the shops. You need anything?" John asks him, standing up. "Nope." Sherlock responds, not looking up from what he's typing on his phone. "Right... what are you doing?" John frowns. "Messaging." Sherlock tells him. "I can see that. Who?" John asks. "Who, what?" Sherlock asks. "Who are you messaging? You don't have a case." John points out. "Mycroft, he's asking about Enzo." the Holmes tells him.

John nods "If you or Enzo need anything send me a text." he says. "Mhm." Sherlock responds, John walking out and down the stairs. Sherlock sighs and runs a hand through his hair, looking up the stairs when he hears Enzo walking down "What you doing out of bed?" he asks his brother. "Bored just lying there." Enzo responds weakly, slumping into the sofa. Sherlock gives him a look "I'm fine, just bored." Enzo tells him. "If you say so." Sherlock responds, giving a look that shows he doesn't believe him. Enzo rolls his eyes, curling up on the sofa and falling asleep fairly quickly.

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