The signs of death

Mycroft's pov

John had just called. He had seemed really worried. Sherlock had run off. Sherlock did strange thing, but he didn't run off just like that, certainly not on the wedding day of his best friend. I tried calling him, he didn't answer, which wasn't unusual. But mostly when someone called he would just hang up, not let it ring.

I was just about to call again, when he called back. Odd. He seemed a little hazed. I wondered. Was he on drugs? Certainly not now! But then he said something strange, even for him. It took me a while but then I remembered where I knew it from.

When Sherlock had been small, he had been bullied. I had of course found out but Sherlock had begged him not to tell their parents. I had agreed on one condition. Sherlock would make up a sign to tell me when he needed help or was distressed and I would tell him I had understood it with my own sign. And now Sherlock had used it. On purpose. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

I hung up. He had told me to go to John's party. Clearly an other hint. John was involved and in potential danger. I had raced down to Johns wedding. But the traffic was terrible. I tried to connect my men, tell them they needed to go to check on Sherlock. But alas, my phone had forsaken me. My batteries were dead. 

When I arrived there I saw John. He was dancing with his wife and slightly tipsy. 'John!!' I called him. He came smiling. 'Glad you could make it, Mycroft! Any word of Sherlock?' I wanted to tell him that i figured something was wrong with Sherlock, but he seemed so happy. I knew Sherlock wouldn't want me to destroy this for his secret crush. (Come on. It was so clear as the sky) 'Don't worry John. I called him, he said he had drunk too much and he wasn't feeling to well. He is at his flat.'

John smiled even brighter. I knew he had a drink too much. He was babbling about a murder of some kind during his best man's speech. First I thought it was the nerves. But this makes more sense.'

Murder? Oh no! I couldn't believe Sherlock spent this much time with this idiot! Sherlock was in danger! I knew that all ready. But murder. 'I am so sorry John. But i have to go and check on Sherlock. See if he needs anything.' And I was running off. I told my chauffeur to make sure John Watson was safe at all times and took the car. Driving at full speed to 221B Baker street.

When i arrived all seemed well. I rushed upstairs to a horrible sight. There he was. In his armchair. Gasping for breath, shaking violently. Drug overdose. I ran to him and took him in my arms. Picking him up in my arms, grabbing his phone at the same time. I called 911 and was lucky they were only a street away.

I saw I was losing him and screamed his name. Trying to keep him conscious. I ran outside to the ambulance on his way here. They put him in it and drove of.

I answered all the questions. They left, and I sank down. It had started to rain. I grabbed my head with my hands. Ho Sherlock, please, don't die. I wished.

Even though we are distant, he is my brother, and i will always love him.

PS: I don't own anything but the things that aren't in Sherlock. All the is owned by BBC, Mark Gatiss, Steven Moffat and the rest of their crew.