Back from the Dead (Sherlock)

Sherlock realised he was still grinning...he couldn't help it. He just felt great. It was so amazing to be back here with John after everything that had happened.

"I love you too John. I...I never thought I could...thank you." He kissed John happily and snuggled down into his chest. He felt like things might be different from now on. But for some reason he wasn't scared about that anymore. With John by his side they could take on the whole world, and win. Now that was an exciting thought...

"I can't wait to start solving crimes again." Sherlock spoke his thoughts out loud, and was vaguely aware that perhaps it wasn't the most romantic thing to say, but it was the truth...and Sherlock always told the truth.

John laughed a bit, reaching over Sherlock for some tissues to clean himself up a bit.
"Please tell me you aren't bored already," he teased, it wouldn't be much of a compliment, would it?

"Do you think we can sleep a bit? I am exhausted... today was nerve-wrecking, I reckon..." he muttered, curling up at Sherlock's side. "No need to thank me, I am... happy... if I can be with you..." he muttered sleepily.

Sleeping wasn't really Sherlock's thing but he knew he had to do it sometime, and now seemed like as good a time as any. He felt so safe lying there with John that sleeping seemed like a pefectly natural thing to do. He wrapped his arm round John's shoulder, bringing him in closer, then closed his eyes.

"Hmmm, sleep it is then." He whispered. Maybe he was tired after all. He focused on the warm, pleasant sensation of their intertwined bodies and allowed himself to drift away.


(( Good stuff, now we need our Mycroft back methinks?? ))

Two hours later,as promised, Mycroft let himself into his brother's flat. He smiled to himself when he saw John and Sherlock tangled in each other'S arms on Sherlock's bed.

"Do wake up, brother. And get dressed. I would hate to see you go exhibitionist."

He waved away his intern, who had followed him up with the dummy- a perfect effigy of Sherlock.

John started awake, sitting up, his eyes focused on Mycroft and his cheeks flushed red.
Sherlock was there, Sherlock was alive, Sherlock was with him. And also a little bit naked. He reached out his hand and pulled the blanket over the detective's hips, before tucking himself in and standing up.

"You could have knocked, Mycroft," he pointed out annoyed.

Sherlock was stirred by the sound of voices...he opened his eyes slightly, still feeling a little groggy and reluctant to wake up. It took him a few moments to register the sound of his brother's voice, then the memories of everything that had gone on came flooding back to him, and he leapt up suddenly, completley forgetting his pants were halfway down his legs, tripped up, and ended up on the floor rather ungracefully. He hurriedly struggled to pull up his pants, got to his feet and tried to pretend that nothing had happened.

"Mycroft...um...it's...er...not what it looks like...John and I were uhhh..." he struggled to think of a reasonable explanation as to why they might be lying half naked together on Sherlock's bed. It was hopeless. And he knew his flushed red cheeks and guilty expression had already betrayed him long ago. It didn't take a detective to work out what had been going on, and Mycroft was eyeing him with a knowing smile. He looked at the floor like a naughty school boy.

"Having sex. Yes, I know." MYcroft smirked. "Do put your trousers on, this isn't Buckingham Palace, you know." He raised an eyebrow.

"Everything is arranged. The facsimile is here, and my team ison standby, in case anything goes - awry."

John gaped at Sherlock as the detective successfully made a fool of himself, to think he took the trouble to cover him!

He shook his head and looked at Mycroft, he decided Sherlock was embarrassed enough for the both of them.
He could get on with it.
"Whatever we were doing, it's none of your business," he said simply.

"Is Sebastian Moran alone?" he added then, looking for his shirt, then remembering it was not in the bedroom at all. Damn.

Sherlock, still feeling quite flustered, hurriedly put on his shirt and began to do it up, his hands shaking a little. He tried to refocus his mind on business. Yes...they had something important to attend to now. Even so, he couldn't help grinning slightly as he glanced across at John who was unsuccessfully looking for his top...

Now fully dressed and feeling a bit more dignified, he led the way through into the living room.

Mycroft smirked. "No, of course not, Dr. Watson." He circled the table and sat down.

"As far as we know, he is. He may have contacted some other members of Moriarty's former web, but we believe he is working alone."

Mycroft fiddled with his umbrella, and looked up. "I would like to be aprised of your plans, however."

John followed Sherlock to the living room, finally finding his shirt and putting it on. He felt much better once he wasn't half-naked in front of his boyfriend's brother.
Boyfriend, he felt himself smile at the idea. Maybe he was supposed to feel more scared at the idea.

"He is working alone to kill Sherlock? Why?" he asked, sitting down and watching the other two.

Sherlock moved to the window and glanced out through a gap in the closed curtains.

"Because he blames me for the death of Moriarty. Because he's currently the only member of Moriarty's criminal web still operating out of London. Because he hates me. Because he's a psychopath. Quite a few reasons really." Sherlock answered casually. He was used to people trying to kill him, it wasn't that much of a big deal anymore.

Seeing nothing of interest out on the street he moved away from the window to address his brother.

"John and I will wait in the flat. We'll position the dummy in this chair right here, then open the curtains. We'll wait by the other window," he pointed to the second window along, "and when we see any action going on over the road we'll head on over there and catch Moran in the act. You and your government people can do what you like Mycroft, but I assure you John and I have got this covered. Right John?"

John nodded, and moved to Sherlock's side, leaning on him and for the first time looking outside the flat as well. He inspected the street, blue eyes searching for anything that could be considered unusual.

He stayed for a while, even after Sherlock moved, before he decided to speak. "I do not particularly like being confident about things I haven't done yet, but we are armed and ready," he agreed.

Mycroft nodded. "As much as I hate to admit it, Sherlock is correct." He smirked and addressed his brother.

"I know, Sherlock. MY people will be there to assist if needed. Protocol, you know."

Sherlock folded his arms impetuously. He knew his brother was just trying to look out for him, but he enjoyed playing with him so much he couldn't help it.

"And what will YOUR people be doing then Mycroft? Keeping in the background not getting in my way I hope?" He kicked the ground absent mindedly with his foot. "Although I suppose it might be handy in case something went wrong." He added the last part quietly, begruding giving his brother any credit. He hated asking for help.

"They will stay out of your way, brother. But as soon as we detect that you and Dr. Watson are in danger, we will act. I feel the need to remind you we wouldlike to take Moran alive."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Dull. What d'you want him alive for?" Not that Sherlock would ever kill someone on purpose, but he certainly wouldn't think twice about it if his or John's lives were in danger. "He's not going to tell you anything."

Mycroft sighed, "We'd like him alive - if possible." His face softened. "I do worry about you, brother."

When Sherlock 'died', Mycroft knew it was happening, but still, seeing Sherlock bloodied on the pavement was a sobering sight. He didn't want to see it for real.

Sherlock sighed. He knew Mycroft was being serious. He could always tell when Mycroft was being serious. When he meant something. For real. Damn him.

"I know," he muttered, barely audible. However much it frustrated him to be nice to his brother, he couldn't forget what he'd done for him, how he'd helped him after the fall, and how he'd looked after John. "Thank you." He felt his face burning with embarrassment and looked away.

John watched the exchange with curiosity, he had never really seen this much sincerity in between the two. He was probably supposed to be happy for them, but he still was resentful towards Mycroft. Everything he is used to forgive Sherlock, he can't accept in Mycroft.

"Touching family reunion, but I am not thanking you for taking my gun away," he hissed, crossing his arms over his chest.

Mycroft looked at John. "It was either that or suicide watch, Dr. Watson."

Mycroft softened again. "It was for your own good."

"I asked him to John," Sherlock replied. "You know I couldn't possibly live without you anyway." The two of them shared a look, that sentence being even more significant now, knowing what had just gone on between them.

John felt himself swallow hard under Sherlock's gaze. Those words meant the world to him, but it was a blow to his pride as well. "If I wanted to take my life, I didn't have to use my gun," he muttered, he didn't want to think about the thoughts that had passed his mind back then.

"You both overreacted," he said, trying to cut the argument short. "Being dramatic must be a streak of your family..."

Mycroft chucked. "I suppose it is. "My brother needs you,Doctor Watson. That is the truth." His face softened again.

"Losing either of you would be a blow. Do forgive us, Doctor."

Sherlock was staring at the floor, embarrassed by all this emotional talk. It was bringing back too many hurtful memories. He didn't want to be reminded of how he had felt being away from John the past three years. He wanted to move on from all that now. Start again.

"That's about as close to an apology as you'll get from Mycroft so you're better off just accepting it." He cleared his throat. "We care about you John all right?" he added bitterly. "Don't make us bloody say it again."