Mycroft knew to expect the firm and bitter words that came from Sherlock’s mouth, knew that he would respond violently through words or actions like most addicts. However, even though he was prepared for it, it hurt him. Of course the Holmes brothers never got along that well, but when they were young, he was older, wiser, he was looked up to as a great older brother. He would help Sherlock with school problems, help him when he was hurt, hold him when scared, he was the best older brother he could possibly be and he wished that, that had never changed, yet it did. The man standing in front of him was not his brother, but a broken and empty shell of him. Mycroft took a deep breath and buried his emotions, or at least tried to.
"I have a room set up for you, you can barely stand by yourself, it might be good to lay down." Mycroft told him steadily, Sherlock didn’t respond. He took that as an "OK" and helped Sherlock to the spare bedroom that was two doors down from his own. The room was simple. There was a bed, a window with curtains drawn, a small night table, a comfy chair in the corner and an en suite bathroom. However, there was no mirror in the bathroom, it had been removed, the bed only had a bed frame, no head board or foot board. The night stand had rounded edges and a little hole that opened it instead of a handle. The room was completely suicide proof, which Mycroft knew was a possibility when detoxing from cocaine.
There was also a set of towels and two buckets in the room, one empty, one filled with ice water. Mycroft was prepared for everything, he knew that Sherlock was about to get much worse, vomiting and shaking with fevers and cramps. There were water bottles beside the bed as well. Mycroft also had cameras installed in the bedroom so that he could watch his brother at all times, to keep him safe from himself. Sherlock was to clever for his own good.
It took Sherlock all of three seconds (longer than it should have) after entering the room to realize that Mycroft had set it up as a detox room, taking into account all of the possible symptoms and preparing for them. Sherlock also realized that escape was futile he was going to get clean whether he liked it or not.
"Are you going to take my belt and shoelaces too?" It was said sarcastically but without malice. In fact it was probably reasonable, Sherlock had several suicide attempts under his belt already, without the aide of withdrawal. He sat down on the bed his face falling into his hands. Fuck you. The words rang in his head, haunting him. that was not what he had wanted to say at all, but what was? I’m sorry. No I hate myself everyday. Thank you. I understand.
"I love you." Suddenly aware that he had spoken out loud Sherlock’s head shot up to meet his brothers shocked gaze.
Mycroft geld his brother’s eyes, even though he was shocked after hearing the phrase so often spoken by a younger more naive Sherlock. He slowly approached the bed that Sherlock way laying on and sat down close enough the brother’s could feel each other’s body heat, but far enough that they weren’t touching.
"As much as we both hate expressing ourselves, I am doing all of this, every single thing, for you, because you are my brother and I love you. I’ve taken off two months of work, and I am going to help you through this whether you want it or not, Sherlock." Mycroft said. He reached out and grabbed Sherlock’s hand, squeezing briefly.
"However, you are right, I am going to be taking your shoelaces and your belt. And your filthy attire, there are some clothes folded on the chair that you can change into. Then you may want to bathe while you still have somewhat of a reprieve from the withdrawal." Mycroft told him. He stood up from the bed, "I’ll let you to it, but know that I am watching your every move, I have no idea what you might get up to if I leave you alone for too long, and I will be right outside your door. You had to have noticed that my library is right there yes?" Mycroft’s superior tone had returned but was mixed with the playfulness of an older brother trying to make light of a horrid situation.
"I will return here in half hour." He then took his leave, but kept the door open.
