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Post by MYCROFT HOLMES on Apr 3, 2012 21:00:39 GMT -5
After a few days, Mycroft was certainly feeling a lot better. Still didn't mean that he liked hospitals. He hated them so much. They smelled weird and never made anyone feel better. When you were a patient, all you did was wait and see what would happen. You'd wait until a doctor was running and then things got interesting. And if you were only a visitor, you got to see everyone else whine and moan and complain about how the service was horrible.
The only thing Mycroft had to complain about was the hospital gowns. Why did he still have to wear them? All of the testings were done. Wasn't he allowed to put his pants or something back on? He was actually close to bribing a nurse in to getting him a pair of scrubs. But that never happened.
Chester was able to bring him his laptop and cell phone so he could get a little work done while he was being held captive. The nurses and doctors always scolded him, though, for making a call or sitting on his computer for hours on end. They said it wasn't enough relaxing and he was focusing on getting better. Doctors were were people.
Mycroft decided to get up and move around. They didn't let him out of his room yet, so he settled for stalking around the bed and standing by the window. After flashing his goods to a nurse, however, he got a second gown and put that one on backwards so he was covered on both ends. No flashing anyone.
He stood by the window, watching the city move under them. He wasn't paying too much attention, but he was too aware for his own good. In the reflection on the glass, he saw someone walk in with a bouquet of flowers. Yellow flowers to be exact. Daffodils. He would never admit to it, but Mycroft knew a lot about flowers and the meanings possessed. Daffodils, for example, were a symbol for devotion, happiness, unrequited love. He narrowed his eyes, only a little confused. If it was only one flower, he could understand. One daffodil meant misfortune.
Mycroft turned, standing sideways and looking over his shoulder a bit to see who it was.
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Post by JAMES MORIARTY EDWARDS on Apr 3, 2012 23:52:06 GMT -5
Mycroft was in the hospital, again. It wasn't like it was a surprise. The lawyer had a wicked self-destructive streak and more than once James found him with a high fever or passed out. It had become normal for Mycroft to nearly kill himself with his...habits.
James had had enough of it.
Once he heard that he was in the hospital, James first helped himself into Mycroft's apartment. With a careful scouring of the apartment, he disposed of all alcohol and went grocery shopping for him. Real food like vegetables and organic meats. He brought along a recipe book too and slapped it on the counter with a note to read and follow the instructions verbatim.
James grabbed Mike's bathrobe and was on his way, locking the door behind him.
He wasn't sure, exactly, what compelled him to drop by the florist and buy a bright colored bouquet. Daffodils caught his eye first and he bought those, not minding their implications.
It wasn't hard finding out Mike's room number, it just took some sweet talking even though the nurse assured him that they couldn't release that information to non-family members for whatever bureaucratic reason. With a wink and a little extra swagger to his step, James made his way up to Mycroft's room and let himself in without knocking.
Mycroft was standing by the window and James's first instinct was to snap at him to sit down. But, he refrained. He sat the vase on the bedside table, plucking a single daffodil out of it, and laid the bathrobe on the bed. Walking over to Mycroft, James swatted him with the flower over the back of his head.
"You fucking moron."
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Post by MYCROFT HOLMES on Apr 4, 2012 0:23:53 GMT -5
It wasn't that he was surprised to see that James was the one with the bundle of flowers. Okay, yes he was. James wasn't the kind of person to show up with any sort of implication that he was worried about something, much less someone. Usually, there was a card. That was it. Adding the flowers just made him that much more confused.
James laid down his his bathrobe on the bed and put the vase down, pulling one flower out before advancing. Mycroft kept watching him until he felt the flower hit him on the back of the head.
"You fucking moron."
Mycroft turned to face him, watching him curiously and glancing at the flower. The fact he brought his bathrobe meant he was in his house. James was in his house, and had seen and most likely taken away all of his alcohol. When James did something, he didn't do it half-assed, so all of it was gone. He'd be scolded by him before, but never had he intervened before.
"Why are you so upset?" Mycroft asked calmly.
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Post by JAMES MORIARTY EDWARDS on Apr 4, 2012 0:59:27 GMT -5
James gave another whack of the flower for good measure and tossed it over his shoulder carelessly, crossing his arms and glaring at Mike.
"Why are you so upset?"
Why why was he so calm about this? James couldn't wrap his head around it. He was reluctant to admit that he was so worried but it was obvious to the point of embarrassment. James wouldn't ever say it out loud. At least, not when other people could hear.
"I'll be damned if I sit back and watch the only person in my life commit a slow and stupid suicide." James snapped angrily. Realizing what he just said, he followed it up with a quick "That's your brother's job." to make sure he wasn't letting him in too much.
If James said the rest of what he meant, what was whirling around in his mind, he wouldn't know what to do. He didn't let people in for a reason.
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Post by MYCROFT HOLMES on Apr 4, 2012 8:33:14 GMT -5
"I'll be damned if I sit back and watch the only person in my life commit a slow and stupid suicide." There was a slight hesitation, then, "That's your brother's job."
Wait... what? Mycroft raised a brow, becoming more confused as their conversation progressed. Never before had James allowed himself to open up to people, much less him. They were friends, sure. Probably each others only friend, now that he thought about it. But they were far from affectionate or sentimental in their relationship. Mycroft really didn't have a reason to do that to himself. He just did it. Sometimes he felt it was needed, sometimes he felt it helped, but he never did it to hurt people. It was just what he did.
James was standing there, practically telling him how important he was in his life. It was strange. He had expected that from Sherlock before James even had the thought cross his mind. The fact that James had actually said it, albeit with a little insult thrown in for good measure, meant it was true and that he had thought about it for a while.
Honestly, Mycroft didn't know what to say. So he didn't say anything.
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Post by JAMES MORIARTY EDWARDS on Apr 4, 2012 21:57:26 GMT -5
Grumbling, James paced back to the bed and grabbed the bathrobe, throwing it at Mycroft. "Listen up, cause I'm only going to say this one and then deny it from now on."
"You're all I got, whether you like it or not. I haven't spoken to my parents in over a decade, I don't have friends, I don't have lovers, all I have are enemies and we both know you can't sit down to tea with them. Except your brother but he's freak."
James paused and pursed his lips, thinking of how to word what he was going to say next.
"So, as that is the situation at hand, I'm not going to let you do this to yourself anymore. And no, you don't have a say in the matter." Nodding, James decided that he had said what needed saying without saying too much or giving away too little.
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Post by MYCROFT HOLMES on Apr 5, 2012 10:26:33 GMT -5
James snatched up the bathrobe and threw it at him. Mycroft grabbed it, not taking his eyes off of him.
"You're all I got, whether you like it or not. I haven't spoken to my parents in over a decade, I don't have friends, I don't have lovers, all I have are enemies and we both know you can't sit down to tea with them. Except your brother but he's freak." Another brief pause. "So, as that is the situation at hand, I'm not going to let you do this to yourself anymore. And no, you don't have a say in the matter."
It was rare this amount of caring came out of James. It never happened. He never stood there and confessed so many things to Mycroft. It did make an impression. Mycroft just remained silent, his hands twisted in his robe, watching James intently. He wanted to talk back. He wanted to tell James to not worry, to leave him to his own personal affairs, to let him do what he wanted. But he couldn't. Not to James when he was saying those things.
A few more minutes of silence, he nodded.
"Okay."
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Post by JAMES MORIARTY EDWARDS on Apr 7, 2012 22:15:07 GMT -5
"Okay."
James nodded and opened the door to Mike's hospital room. "Good. Put your robe on, we're going for a walk."
James was actually surprised that Mike didn't resist what he had just told him. Mike wasn't the type to just lay down and let someone take care of him; it was strictly against the nature of a pushy, bossy, lawyer.
Mike wasn't putting the robe on fast enough so James walked back over to him and did it for him. He pulled it up and on, closing the front, and tying the belt deftly.
"Let's go." He looped his arm through Mike's and lead him to the door firmly but slowly. James didn't know how weak Mike was and didn't want to risk him falling.
"Onto business." James started talking again once they were moving. "I helped myself into your house and did a little spring cleaning. Don't throw a fit over it because it's done. I'm also going to crash on your couch for a bit, just until I'm sure you'll be okay."
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Post by MYCROFT HOLMES on Apr 10, 2012 17:31:14 GMT -5
Mycroft tried to put on his robe as fast as he could, but considering his stomach had practically digested himself this go, he wasn't fast enough for James. James decided to put his robe on for him, securing the belt with a firm tug that made Mycroft wince. Then he hooked their arms together and led him, slowly, out of the room. It was expected; when James got in a mood, he needed to get moving.
"I helped myself into your house and did a little spring cleaning. Don't throw a fit over it because it's done. I'm also going to crash on your couch for a bit, just until I'm sure you'll be okay."
Mycroft looked at James. He did what now? Great. Now he was going to have a roommate. One who would be messing with everything he did. Mycroft wasn't excited about that. Not one bit.
"Spring cleaning?" He glared slightly. "What did you throw away?"
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Post by JAMES MORIARTY EDWARDS on Apr 10, 2012 23:36:28 GMT -5
James made sure that he wasn't moving too fast for Mycroft; he knew that this time it was a lot more serious than it had been before. All it took was a little glance at Mike's medical charts to figure that out. He kept their arms looped firmly, moving to hold onto Mike's hand as well, making sure to keep close enough to balance him and, if need be, catch him in case something happened.
"Spring cleaning? What did you throw away?"
"Booze mostly." James gave Mike a sour look. "Do you have any idea how much you had in your condo? Way more than you should have." James decided to wait to inform him that he also threw away all of his ridiculous powder protein drinks and all of his unhealthy, weak food. James had restocked his entire kitchen with healthy, hearty foods that wouldn't hurt his stomach to start with.
He even bought him a juicer, blender, and dehydrator.
Mycroft had better thank him for it.
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Post by MYCROFT HOLMES on Apr 16, 2012 11:20:02 GMT -5
Mycroft was oddly compliant. He let James stand close to him, let him take a hold on his hand, let him lead him out of the room to go for a walk. He was really too tired to object to anything right now. James said he threw away the booze, and gave him a sour look and mentioned that the amount of alcohol was way too much for one person. Mycroft shrugged. He never really took tabs on the amount of alcohol in his house. He just always got a bottle when he suspected that he was running low.
Once he was walking, he got a little surer in his steps. He walked a little faster, at a more normal pace, and squeezed James' hand once before tugging it away. Holding hands with James was weird to do. Something about it made him feel a little odd doing it. Then again, most human contact was frowned upon by him. He knew that he was still weak, though, and didn't pull away from James completely.
"If you're expecting a thanks, you're not getting it right now. I'm not liking the idea of you camping out on my couch. Why should I thank you for something I don't want you doing?"
He looked at him, then focused back on walking.
"Maybe one day."
It was good that James was helping him. His destructive streak took a major hold on him. Bad habits died hard, and since his mum or Sherly didn't really want anything to do with him, he was left on his own to deal with things. With help, he could probably stop destroying his body.
Probably. It wasn't a given.
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Post by JAMES MORIARTY EDWARDS on Apr 16, 2012 23:35:16 GMT -5
When Mike finally sped up a bit and steadied, James didn't resist him pulling his hand away. He didn't miss the small squeeze though, the silent reassurance that he was okay and that James didn't have to worry about him toppling over like a drunkard. James kept one arm around him though, looser than before, but there just in case.
"If you're expecting a thanks, you're not getting it right now. I'm not liking the idea of you camping out on my couch. Why should I thank you for something I don't want you doing?"
"You'd be thanking me for saving your life, princess." James retorted immediately, accompanied by an eye roll. James wasn't doing any of this for fun. And really, he had things that he could have been doing with his time instead of playing baby sitter. "And the couch thing was a joke. I'm sleeping in an actual bed. What do you think I am? A heathen?"
"Maybe one day."
James took that as "I've already thanked you and just refuse to say it out loud" and quietly accepted the fact that he would probably never hear the words leave Mike's lips.
"Besides, somebody had to help you. Sherlock wouldn't. I bet he just showed up and ranted some nonsense at you and skipped out like a fairy princess on meth."
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Post by MYCROFT HOLMES on May 4, 2012 10:42:37 GMT -5
"You'd be thanking me for saving your life, princess. And the couch thing was a joke. I'm sleeping in an actual bed. What do you think I am? A heathen?"
Mycroft snickered a little, still being half-led by James. He walked surely now. Once he got moving after a long time being holed up in a bed, it always got better within a few minutes.
The idea of James actually sleeping on the couch was both amusing and unamusing at the same time. Amusing because it was James and James never settled for the couch. He was the one who would rather share a bed than dare lay on the couch. Unamusing because his couch was worth a few grand. He wasn't about to let someone sleep on it. That's the reason for the guest room.
"Yes. You are a heathen." He smiled a little. "Guest room is yours if you want it."
Still didn't mean he would warm up to the idea of having a tenant in his house.
"Besides, somebody had to help you. Sherlock wouldn't. I bet he just showed up and ranted some nonsense at you and skipped out like a fairy princess on meth."
"Just about. Basically kicked open my door to figure out what John Smith had to hide, then started pacing back and forth. I think I broke his brain."
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Post by JAMES MORIARTY EDWARDS on May 7, 2012 23:16:13 GMT -5
"Yes. You are a heath. Guest room is yours if you want it."
James met Mike's smile with a small one, leading him around a corner. They passed a rather attractive male nurse, blond hair flipped stylishly over his forehead. James didn't even bother trying to be discrete about turning around and checking out his ass as they moved past him.
It was pretty good. Not the best James had seen, but good.
"Just about. Basically kicked open my door to figure out what John Smith had to hide, then started pacing back and forth. I think I broke his brain."
"Like that's hard to do." James rolled his eyes. Sherlock Holmes was one of the easiest men to 'break' as Mycroft called it. His mind had such a specific and limited view of the world that anything outside of it just didn't compute.
It was like throwing water into a computer, really. Easy to break and it takes forever to get it working again, if at all.
As they neared the end of the hallway, James pulled the two of them to the side, turning Mike to face him.
"Don't do that again, love." James said quietly but firmly, the endearment slipping out without him noticing really. "Don't hurt yourself like this again. Promise me."
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Post by MYCROFT HOLMES on May 10, 2012 18:16:27 GMT -5
Mycroft actually laughed. Not one of his half-fake-laughs that he did a lot. James was right that it didn't take much to break Sherlock. Something trivial, something seemingly impossible, even a lot of simple things seemed to do his brother in. It was just amusing to think of. He muttered a small yeah and shook his head slightly.
He scoffed when James turned to watch a blond male nurse walk by him. It didn't bother him. He was used to everything that James did. Apparently the nurse was attractive. Mycroft just kept on walking. James then tugged him to the side of the hallway when they got to the end, looking at him with a firm gaze that made Mycroft just look at him.
"Don't do that again, love. Don't hurt yourself like this again. Promise me."
Love? The endearment made Mycroft purse his lips. It was always strange when James got feely. He was big on not messing with emotions or feelings. But he really couldn't say no when James was looking at him like that.
"Alright, alright." He nodded. "I promise."
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