Hiding Things (Johnlock)

Chapter 3- You knew?

John's POV

"Mycroft?"

"Yes?"

"We need to talk....about Sherlock."

I noticed the way Mycroft reacted to my statement. His breath hitched in his chest, and he took a deep breath. It seemed as if he expected this? But how? Unless, what I suspected really is true.

"What about Sherlock?" Mycroft said, colder than usual.

"He won't eat, and he's always in the bathroom, and constantly lying to me, and I just found out about the drugs and I-"

"You know about the drugs?"

"You do and failed to tell me?"

"I think you understand this is something Sherlock would have to tell you, it's not my place."

"Well it would've been nice, he nearly....overdosed the other day." My voice was beginning to waver. This was a conversation I never thought I would have.

"What? You know what, I will be right over. Figure a way to get Sherlock out of the house for a while. You and I need to have a chat."

"Alright then."

"I'll be over in ten. Goodbye."

"Bye."

I sunk into my chair and processed what just happened.

Mycroft knew. He knew about the drugs, and he seems to know a whole lot more. Am I ready for this? I care Sherlock with all my being and what if he's hurting and I haven't noticed? That would snap me clean in two. I can't even begin to imagine how much he could be hiding under his façade. God, Sherlock, what's going on?

I glanced at the time and saw that five minutes had passed. I needed to get him out of the house, now.

"Sherlock! Can you come here?"

What stumbled out of Sherlock's room was something different entirely. A mere shell of the Sherlock I knew. I didn't notice until now, but just a quick look at him hurts my heart.

He was as thin as all hell, and the bags under his eyes were insane. His vibrant cerulean eyes were now a dull blue, devoid of all life, all ambition, all drive. He was in his navy robe and boxers, and he looked like he was struggling to stand upright. He looked so sad.

"Yes?" He said, his voice hoarse.

"Could...could you head to the corner shop on eighth and get those honey buns we both love? For some reason I could really use some right now. We can share them?" The second I mentioned sharing his wall cracked, and his face showed fear for a split second. I quickly took back what I said regarding sharing, and he quickly threw on some pants and left. Had he left a moment later, he would've seen the discreet, yet familiar car of Mycroft. He stepped out of the car with a grim look on his face, and lingered at the door before letting himself in. This struck fear into my heart, and I don't think anything could've prepared for the conversation that followed.