Chapter Text
“Baker Street,” Sherlock rasps from where he slouches in the seat of Mycroft’s town car, taking in night time London through the tinted glass though he can hardly keep his eyes open. It’s been 17 hours since Mycroft had unchained him and hauled him out of that fetid hole in Serbia.
“A&E.” Mycroft counters. Sherlock shakes his head violently, immediately regretting it as the world starts spinning.
“Baker Street.” Sherlock growls, his hand resting on the car door handle. The threat is clear. Mycroft knows his brother well enough to know that he actually will hurl himself out of a moving car if he thinks it necessary.
“Very well, but you should know that John no longer lives there.” Sherlock doesn’t answer for a moment and Mycroft suppresses a wince. There is so much Sherlock has to know, but absolutely no way to tell him. As usual, he will find out the hard way himself.
“Phone.” He says, holding his hand out. Mycroft sighs, reaches into his attache case, and removes Sherlock’s three year old phone. It is charged, of course. Sherlock checks their position from the window, waits five more minutes, then texts
Come immediately if convenient.
He drops hand and phone into his lap and lets his head loll back against the headrest, allowing himself to close his eyes until he feels the car stop moving.