[Mycroft lets them lead him along, he usually would scoff at the techniques people would use to calm others down, he wasn't like that, only ordinary people were like that, and yet here he was, utterly useless against his own sentiments.

Sentiment.

How he had tried to tell Sherlock it was never worth it. He'd seen what Victor's loss had done to the small child. How Eurus had grown jealous of their friendship. Caring wasn't an advantage. It never was.

And yet, here he was, caring.]

Yes--ah, yes, I'll do that.

[He's broken out of his reverie by the other paramedic. Mycroft shakes his head.]

No, he wouldn't--or couldn't say. No, I mean--it's possible he could have been taking drugs some time before this, obviously he's overdosing but I've no idea when he started...I should have. I should have seen this coming!

[Frustrated. Angry. Angry at himself, really, rather than Sherlock. His brother had been through so much, it was obvious now, with his mindset, with his talents and personality, he should have seen this coming. He'd failed him time and time again. When would he ever do right by Sherlock?]