Sherlock stretched out across the chairs in the doctors lounge, flicking through a few of the pathology books Dr. Watson had directed him too. He wondered how the doctor had known he would find pathology perfect for light reading, but then again the man was becoming more mysterious to him the longer he stayed in this place.
A text alert on his phone (somehow it had survived his unconsciousness and journey in the ambulance without coming out of his suit trouser pocket) roused him from his reading.
I am contacting to inform you that you will no longer receive any of the money in mother's will which was left for you. It is advisable not to attempt to gain access to the money again on legal standings as my lawyer will surely combat any argument you throw at him. Unless you are willing to prove you are competent to spend the money wisely, you will be cut off from all funding. Please don't make me take this further brother.-MH
"Idiot." he cursed under his breath. Normally such a threat from his brother would cause a little amusement, at least his plan of counter attack would give his mind something to focus on for a few hours. But this was different. He'd gone too far with his controlling and insufferable ways this time. Before Sherlock allowed his rage to take over he ironed out his expression and tried to think logically.
Rising up to the legal challenge would, unfortunately, be futile, as everyone knew that Mycroft practically ran the country, and a few tweaks of his mothers will would be almost child's play for him. Apart from retaliation there was only really two other options. Admit defeat and attend whatever rehabilitation program his brother had no doubt already set up for him, or survive on his own, without the money.
Only one option was really possible though. He couldn't surrender not now. He could survive without the money though, get a job maybe. He had a PhD in Chemistry for godsakes, he should be able to do something.
However, Sherlock's thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the sound of the very obviously disgruntled Doctor returning. He watched him out of the corner of his eyes as he slumped against the wall.
"Bastard isn't he?" he stated plainly after a few moments. To Sherlock's surprise the Doctor actually seemed amused, and the smile that lit up his face was infectious and within a moment Sherlock was laughing, properly laughing, like he hadn't done in ages, as if this whole ridiculous situation hadn't just happened.
The laughing subsided and he took a few deep breaths before laying back down on the chairs with a soft thud.
"He's cut me off, John."
((ahh that sounds good yeah. I kind of pushed the boat out a bit with this one so if you didn't like it or any details etc. please say and i can edit it
))