Poison & Puzzles

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Sherlock Holmes stormed into his brother's study without much time for the butler to announce him. In fact he'd left the poor man gasping for breath behind him. "Mycroft." Sherlock practically growled, slamming the door behind him.

"Brother, to what do I owe this visit?" Mycroft took a sip from his tea and continued flicking through the paperwork on his desk with only a cursory glance at the younger Holmes..

"Emmalynn isn't a toy, you can't just-"

"Oh, she already told me that you might be a bit angry. About the cases I expect." Mycroft was still dismissing his brother as a minor inconvenience. He didn't see Sherlock's hands shaking.

"Cases? Of course there's more than one." Sherlock's anger wasn't disappearing, if anything Mycroft was feeding it.

"Frankly I haven't seen you show this much fire since-" He finally placed his cup on its saucer and looked at Sherlock. "What's happened?"

"I was informed that she was purchasing narcotics from someone. I..." He chose his words carefully. "Overreacted. Stormed her room." Sherlock didn't sound guilty, he sounded more like he was observing someone else's actions instead of his own.

"Your homeless network should have informed you that she entered one of my cars shortly after, you certainly would have drawn better conclusions at that point." Mycroft went back to his cup before Sherlock's next words stopped him.

"It wasn't my network that informed me." Sherlock clipped through clenched teeth.

"Who-?" The words hung loosely as the brothers seemed to have a full conversation without saying a word. "Does John-?"

"No. He knows something is wrong, but he thinks it's guilt." Sherlock minutely relaxed, he was still angry but it was clear Mycroft wasn't going to give him the fight he was looking for. The fight he so desperately needed.

"Isn't it?" Mycroft picked up his cup once more.

"I don't have time for this." Sherlock's eyes narrowed.

"Her recital is tomorrow." Mycroft was taking out his phone, texting with one hand.

"Well I very well can't go now." Sherlock spat back at him, annoyed that he was no longer getting Mycroft's full attention.

"Don't pretend you planned on it." Mycroft scoffed.

"Fine."

Mycroft put down his phone and looked at Sherlock over the rim of his teacup. "What's happened to you, you love her so much, and yet, here we are debating how disappointing a Father you are." The words hurt Sherlock, but he didn't let it show. His hands balled into fists in the pockets of his coat.

"You know why I have to be this way." Sherlock met his eyes, his words are sharp as he could make them.

"I know why you think you have to be. I remember a time you two were so close, inseparable. When you would have been the one guiding her through her first cases. She'd be on to homicides by now." Sherlock blinked for a moment, unanswering, until Mycroft raised an eyebrow in question..

"I don't" Sherlock answered simply.

"What?" Mycroft knew what he must mean but he wanted to hear it.

"I don't remember. I erased it. All of it." Sherlock relaxed, finally finding an empty space inside himself to shove his emotions. He didn't need them, not now. He'd already lost so much control tonight. It would take hours to undo the damage.

Mycroft looked like he was choking on his own breath. "Sherlock."

"You have no right to judge the choices I've made. You know why I do it." Sherlock's tone was simple, controlled, and honest.