“Well, there’s Sherlock who glides into the middle of a scene with that frantic look or when he sashays into my office to throw a fit about my lack of interesting cases.” Greg looked Mycroft up and down. “And then there’s you, with your immaculate suit and umbrella, speaking as though you are about to start reciting Shakespeare at any moment. Not to mention the wave of mystery you have surrounding yourself.”
“I can assure you that is not my intention,” Mycroft said. Greg detected a minor note of distaste from Mycroft at his insinuation.
Greg chuckled. “Are you sure? I almost feel as though you are about to dash into the nearest telephone booth or restaurant to change into your Superman suit.”
“That’s preposterous,” Mycroft said, but Greg saw a light behind his eyes.
“You’re right. Superman was a ridiculous suggestion.” Greg smirked as he walked next to Mycroft. “You are obviously Batman.”
Mycroft chuckled once but turned it into a cough. “I believe I informed you that I would like to speak about my brother.”
“What about Sherlock?”
Mycroft nodded. “I was hoping that you would be willing to keep me informed on how he is doing.”
Greg nodded, watching Mycroft out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah. But I don’t know how much help I can be. He doesn’t really…confide in me.”
“No, of course not,” Mycroft agreed. “However, you are around him more than most.”
“Why do you need me to watch out for him? You obviously have some pull, why not just hire a bodyguard?” Greg asked.
Mycroft placed his hand on Greg’s arm, forcing him to halt his steps before they crossed the street to walk toward the park. “He would notice them instantly. I need someone who would be able to fly under the radar, so to speak.”
“So you want me to be his babysitter, incognito?” Greg asked with a sigh.
“I suppose.” Mycroft cleared his throat. “I am willing to…compensate you for your efforts, if that’s what you desire.”
Greg rubbed his face. “Look, Mycroft. You seem like an alright bloke, but I’m not about to spy on Sherlock. He has one of the best minds I’ve ever come across. Even if he is an arrogant prick most of the time.” He turned, with every intention of leaving Mycroft when he felt Mycroft’s hand on his arm again, slightly restraining him.
“I’m not asking you to spy on him, Detective Inspector. I am only asking if, when you encounter him, you keep an eye on his condition and inform me about the process,” Mycroft said softly. He seemed to remember his hand was still gripping Greg’s arm and jerked it to himself.
“What condition?” Greg said softly.
“The drugs,” Mycroft admitted as he shifted his eyes to the ground.
“Oh.” Greg had known Sherlock was using—it was hard not to. They way he always seemed to be bouncing off the walls or going one hundred miles an hour. Not to mention the shakes and trembling that seemed to set in if they were on a case for too long. But Greg hadn’t wanted to really believe it. It was easy to just brush off as Sherlock’s eccentric personality.
If Greg was honest, he ignored the drugs because he didn’t want to lose Sherlock’s genius. Even though he was infuriating and constantly belittled everyone around him, Greg needed him. He needed Sherlock to make those crazy, amazing leaps of logic that helped him close cases.
“I see you are aware,” Mycroft sighed. “I worry about him going too far again.”
“Again?”
Mycroft closed his eyes. “It’s been a problem of his for…longer than I would like,” he admitted quietly.
Greg nodded but didn’t press the issue. He wanted to know the story behind it, but knew Mycroft did not wish to divulge that information. “Okay, so you, what? Want me to tail him to see if he’s using drugs again?”
“No. I am simply asking for you to watch out for any signs he’s using and inform me,” Mycroft said quietly.
Re: Criminal Conversation 1b/?
“I can assure you that is not my intention,” Mycroft said. Greg detected a minor note of distaste from Mycroft at his insinuation.
Greg chuckled. “Are you sure? I almost feel as though you are about to dash into the nearest telephone booth or restaurant to change into your Superman suit.”
“That’s preposterous,” Mycroft said, but Greg saw a light behind his eyes.
“You’re right. Superman was a ridiculous suggestion.” Greg smirked as he walked next to Mycroft. “You are obviously Batman.”
Mycroft chuckled once but turned it into a cough. “I believe I informed you that I would like to speak about my brother.”
“What about Sherlock?”
Mycroft nodded. “I was hoping that you would be willing to keep me informed on how he is doing.”
Greg nodded, watching Mycroft out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah. But I don’t know how much help I can be. He doesn’t really…confide in me.”
“No, of course not,” Mycroft agreed. “However, you are around him more than most.”
“Why do you need me to watch out for him? You obviously have some pull, why not just hire a bodyguard?” Greg asked.
Mycroft placed his hand on Greg’s arm, forcing him to halt his steps before they crossed the street to walk toward the park. “He would notice them instantly. I need someone who would be able to fly under the radar, so to speak.”
“So you want me to be his babysitter, incognito?” Greg asked with a sigh.
“I suppose.” Mycroft cleared his throat. “I am willing to…compensate you for your efforts, if that’s what you desire.”
Greg rubbed his face. “Look, Mycroft. You seem like an alright bloke, but I’m not about to spy on Sherlock. He has one of the best minds I’ve ever come across. Even if he is an arrogant prick most of the time.” He turned, with every intention of leaving Mycroft when he felt Mycroft’s hand on his arm again, slightly restraining him.
“I’m not asking you to spy on him, Detective Inspector. I am only asking if, when you encounter him, you keep an eye on his condition and inform me about the process,” Mycroft said softly. He seemed to remember his hand was still gripping Greg’s arm and jerked it to himself.
“What condition?” Greg said softly.
“The drugs,” Mycroft admitted as he shifted his eyes to the ground.
“Oh.” Greg had known Sherlock was using—it was hard not to. They way he always seemed to be bouncing off the walls or going one hundred miles an hour. Not to mention the shakes and trembling that seemed to set in if they were on a case for too long. But Greg hadn’t wanted to really believe it. It was easy to just brush off as Sherlock’s eccentric personality.
If Greg was honest, he ignored the drugs because he didn’t want to lose Sherlock’s genius. Even though he was infuriating and constantly belittled everyone around him, Greg needed him. He needed Sherlock to make those crazy, amazing leaps of logic that helped him close cases.
“I see you are aware,” Mycroft sighed. “I worry about him going too far again.”
“Again?”
Mycroft closed his eyes. “It’s been a problem of his for…longer than I would like,” he admitted quietly.
Greg nodded but didn’t press the issue. He wanted to know the story behind it, but knew Mycroft did not wish to divulge that information. “Okay, so you, what? Want me to tail him to see if he’s using drugs again?”
“No. I am simply asking for you to watch out for any signs he’s using and inform me,” Mycroft said quietly.
“You do know he’s using now, right?”