"Please come down from there, you are going to fall!" Mycroft cried as his younger brother climbed high into the tree in their back yard. Sherlock was, now, almost 20 feet up and getting to the thinner branches.

"Sherlock please, I am begging you. The tree won't support your weight for much longer!"

Sherlock stopped for a moment to look down on his brother. The wind was playing with his curls and adrenaline was pumping through his veins because of the height. All he could think about was if he got to the top of the tree he could see the ocean, and if he could see the ocean then he might be able to see a pirate. "You sound so sure I am going to fall. Is that because you'd like to see me fall?"

"Of course not, it's just not safe. Please Locky! Please! I have cookies inside, I will play pirates with you for a week just please come down!"

Sherlock wasn't listening. He stretched his small hand up to the next branch climbing higher into the tall tree. He was only 10 branches from the top now and it was stupid to turn back now. Even if the branches were getting smaller and the wind getting stronger.

Mycroft continued to beg and bargain with his stubborn brother shouting louder and more frantically as he approached the top. When the small boy finally reached as far as he could climb Mycroft heard his voice barely threw the wind, "I can't see the ocean! My, why can't I see it! What did I do wrong?"

Mycroft shook his head at his brothers immaturity,"Because the ocean is hundreds of miles away. You can't see it from here, now please come down!"

"Mycroft..."

"What Locky?"

"I... I don't know how."

Mycroft looked up into the tree to see the small boy clinging to the branches, "Okay, listen to me Sherlock, grab hold of the branch you are standing on with your hands, then lower your feet down to the next one. Repeat that till you get low enough I can reach you."

Sherlock began to do just what his big brother told him to. Small tears making their way down his face. He got his feet firmly on the branch below him then brought his hand down, and repeated what he had done.

It was all going fine until he was about 15 feet off the ground, still to high for his brother to reach him. Sherlock had just let go of the branch above him when Mycroft heard the crunch and the one he was standing on started to break.

With a scream Sherlock started to fall. His big brother wasted no time and was quickly under the boys falling body, arms out stretched ready to catch him.

He caught the small boy and they both fell to the ground. When they hit the ground Mycroft heard another soft crunch before he felt his arm began to throb with pain. It was a shooting pain starting from his wrist and going all the way up his body, over and over again.

He had his eyes closed tightly against the pain. When he opened them he saw Sherlock's face right above his. His eyes were shut and tears where falling down the small boys face and he was muttering, "I am so sorry My-My, please My don't be dying! I'm so sorry"

"I am not dying, Sherlock." Was all Mycroft managed to get out before the boy collapsed over his chest in a heap of wails and sobs.

Not long after the house servants come and took both brothers inside. Mycroft had his wrist in a cast for 4 months and Sherlock hadn't climbed another tree since.

Sherlock had once again climbed to far up a tree with out knowing how to get down. Mycroft thought as he padded away sweat with a cloth from his sleeping brothers face. He had shown up outside Mycroft's flat in London less than 4 hours ago. Pale and much skinnier than he should have been, he explained to his older brother how he got into cocaine.

"I thought I could control it My. I can't... I can't stop. I don't know how." Was all Sherlock said before he started to come down from his high. Not long after he began shaking and vomiting.

Mycroft dragged him into the guest room and put him in the bed. He hadn't moved since. It wasn't like Sherlock to ask for help. He had always been stuck in his way. To smart to listen to others and to careless to think before he jumped.

Sherlock started to mumble as Mycroft repositioned himself in the arm chair next to the bed, "My My please... Plea"

"Shhh, Locky it's okay, it'll all be fine."

"My, don't leave... please."

"Of course not Locky." Mycroft sighed and kissed his little brothers forehead. Something Sherlock hadn't let him do since he was 6 and probably wouldn't have let him now, if he hadn't been so out of it. Mycroft looked around the room and settled himself into the arm chair, preparing for a long night.