Chapter Text
“I said no.”
Sherlock stared resolutely out the window of the second-story flat at the traffic down below. Mycroft rolled his eyes as Sherlock barely moved, merely plucking a string on his violin.
“Sherlock, you don't get a choice. I’ve already spoken with the people there, and they’ve agreed to it.”
“Yes... but I haven’t, and I'm not planning to.”
“Oh for God’s sake will you at least look at me?” Mycroft said finally, fed up with his brother’s arrogance. The younger Holmes sighed and stood up, facing his brother. He delicately placed the instrument he held onto the chair that John usually occupied. Remaining silent for a moment, he finally looked at Mycroft.
“Why?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Why have you decided to send me to a place that is both a mental hospital and a damn prison, harming those that go in even more than they’re already mentally damaged?” Sherlock asked, his expression stoic. “Give me a decent few reasons why. And yes," he added, before Mycroft could speak, "I'm painfully aware that I 'don't have a choice’, but humor me."
Mycroft hesitated for a moment. He knew Sherlock wouldn't like his answer, but he certainly would prefer that Sherlock come voluntarily, as opposed to… his other options. The room was silent for a moment, the only sounds being the muffled noises of the city on the other side of the window.
"Because I warned you, Sherlock," he said finally. "I told you that the next time you got that high there would be consequences. I found the list, little brother." To his surprise, Sherlock merely laughed, a sound filled with contempt.
"And your version of a 'consequence' is to place me in an asylum like a parent sending a child to their room, how lovely." His voice dripped with sarcasm. "And that's because I am "little brother" isn't it?" He asked, turning to Mycroft, a scornful expression on his face. "Of course, you're the older sibling, so you're practically like the parent, and I have to listen to you, don't I?" He mocked, laughing dryly and turning away.
"I am practically the parent, Sherlock." Mycroft cut in. He looked annoyed, but also slightly concerned? "I have been for the past decade, since God knows mother and father have given up on following your damned drug habit. I'm always trying to prevent you from getting yourself either killed or too high to function!" He didn't raise his voice often, and when he did, it wasn't by much, but still, his displeasure was evident. "Not that any of that has ever made you listen to me before…" he added resignedly.
"Exactly," Sherlock replied, as though Mycroft had proven his point for him. "So why would I start now?" He walked over to his violin again, picking it up. Fetching the bow from his case, he began to play, his back turned to his brother. After a moment, he stopped abruptly and set it down again, looking at Mycroft. "Why are you still here? I've already told you no." The elder Holmes sighed and stepped closer to Sherlock.
"Because I want to give you a different set of choices. You are coming to Sherrinford, whether you like it or not. But whether you come willingly…" he trailed off, pulling a small syringe from his pocket. "I'd really hate to use this, and put even more drugs in your system, but I will if I need to."
Sherlock blinked. A sedative, he thought bitterly. Did they really provide Mycroft with a sedative in case I decided not to cooperate? It did seem unlikely, but not impossible. Even if it was a bluff, it wasn't one Sherlock wanted to risk calling wrong. He remained silent for a few minutes, during which Mycroft was also left to his own thoughts. He despised doing this to Sherlock, he really did, but it seemed as though he'd tried everything already. Besides, giving his little brother time to organize his mind, away from the rest of the world would be good, he reasoned, still trying to justify this decision. The real reason behind it was far simpler. He was worried. Worried that no matter what he did, Sherlock wouldn't stay clean. He was worried that this was the only way to help.
Finally, the silence had stretched long enough.
"Sherlock?" Mycroft prompted quietly.
"How long?" Sherlock spun to look at him. His expression still seemed neutral, though it contained traces of anger and, though Sherlock would never admit it, fear. "How long am I to remain in Sherrinford?" he asked, keeping his eyes on his brother's.
"Well, we'd have to see. No longer than a year. England does need you," Mycroft answered calmly. Sherlock nodded slowly, licking his lips. Mycroft noticed this, and once he did, he began to notice a few other things as well. Sherlock's hands were clasped behind his back, his fingers rapidly tapping on each other, he couldn't seem to stay in one place, pacing throughout the room. Sherlock was anxious. No, not anxious. He was genuinely terrified. Mycroft felt a small hint of pity for his little brother, but he pushed it away. This was going to help him. It had to. Sherlock had done this to himself, hadn't he? He, Mycroft, had warned him, he justified.
"What about John?" Sherlock asked after another moment of silence.
"Unfortunately, I don't think he'd approve of this, so we won't be letting him know where you are. Not for a while at least." Mycroft could tell that Sherlock didn't like it, but he could also tell that he was resigned to the idea.
"...Alright," Sherlock said, "It can't be that bad, can it?" he added with a fake smile. "Besides. I prefer being alone anyway." This last statement was very quiet and pointed. It was clear he meant it to emphasize that if Mycroft did intend this as a punishment, it wouldn't be taken as such. Mycroft rolled his eyes and backed up slightly, gesturing for Sherlock to leave the flat, and indicating he'd follow. The detective did walk ahead and down the stairs, though not before grabbing his coat, and glancing at Mycroft. Anyone else would have seen merely a blank expression, or maybe a slight hint of a dirty look. Mycroft though, saw what Sherlock hoped he wouldn't. He still saw the fear. Fear that was well justified. Sherlock had witnessed what had become of Eurus. Hell, their last visit to Sherrinford had surely traumatized him. Maybe even more so than... Well, he'd leave it at the fact that their recent visit had only added to already existing trauma.
But he was locked into his decision now. There was no going back. He sighed, wondering vaguely if he'd made the wrong choice, before following his little brother outside.