*A/N I do not own Sherlock or its characters. I only own my own OCs. Warning, contains spoilers for the show. Also, please watch the episodes first before reading!

"What you're about to see is classified beyond top secret." Mycroft stated. "Is that quite clear?"

He looked around at the other five occupants in the conference room, focusing on the small figure in the far corner as he ordered: "Don't minute any of this."

Lady Smallwood's old secretary dropped her reading glasses back down, lowering her pen and notebook with her spectacles, as Mycroft addressed the two people across from him, sitting at the conference table: "Once beyond these walls, you must never speak of it."

Lady Smallwood and Sir Edwin, the only two other parliamentary officials attending the meeting, frowned at the stilled images Mycroft was showing them on the screen. It was a montage of security footages, all showing various angles of Sherlock and Magnussen in the latter's final moments, and the tension in the room could be cut with a blunt knife… except around Sherlock.

The detective himself sat in an armchair before the conference table, fiddling on his phone, as Mycroft continued: "A D notice has been slapped on the entire incident. Only those within this room, code names Antarctica, Langdale, Victor, Porlock and Love, will ever know the whole truth."

Marie glanced at Sherlock from her seat beside him, before rolling her eyes while Mycroft continued: "As far as everyone else is concerned, going to the Prime Minister and way beyond, Charles Augustus- Are you tweeting?!"

Mycroft had shifted slightly from where he'd been standing facing the conference table, and finally noticed his brother's actions.

"No." Sherlock said quickly, hiding his phone, and Marie sighed as Mycroft snapped: "Well, that's what it looks like."

"Of course I'm not tweeting. Why would I be tweeting?" Sherlock asked, but his face gave away his guilt as he suppressed a faintly amused expression and Mycroft narrowed his eyes.

"Give me that!" Mycroft snapped, lunging forward to snatch his brother's phone from him, and Sherlock protested: "What? No!"

The pair struggled as Mycroft pulled at Sherlock's phone while the younger man tried to hold on as he hissed: "What are you doing?! Get off!"

"Give it here!" Mycroft snapped, finally managing to wrench the phone away.

Marie lifted her eyes to the ceiling, as though asking for patience, while Sherlock sulked and Mycroft read in disbelief: "'Back on terra firma'."

"Don't read them out." Sherlock sighed, but Mycroft ignored him as he continued: "'Free as a bird'."

"God, you're such a spoilsport." Sherlock muttered.

"Could you two please grow up?" Marie sighed, and Sherlock whined: "He started it!"

"Will you take this matter seriously, Sherlock?" Mycroft snapped.

"I am taking it seriously! What makes you think I'm not taking it seriously?" Sherlock argued, and Mycroft quoted mockingly: '"#OhWhatABeautifulMorning'."

"Look," Sherlock argued, "not so long ago I was on a mission that meant certain death, my death! And now I'm back, with my lovely wife," he winked at Marie who simply raised a brow at him, "in a nice warm office," he looked around the room, "with my big brother and- Are those ginger nuts?"

He suddenly broke off, his face lighting up as he saw the plate of cookies sitting in the middle of the conference table.

"Oh, God..." Mycroft sighed, while Sherlock stood up and strode over, proclaiming: "Love ginger nuts."

He reached forward and grabbed a whole handful right off the plate, and Lady Smallwood noted irritably: "Our doctor said you were clean."

"I am. Utterly." Sherlock answered as he turned back towards his seat. "No need for stimulants now, remember? I have work to do. Marie, would you, or the baby, or maybe both, like one?"

She shook her head, looking faintly amused as Sherlock shrugged and bit into one of the biscuits, facing his brother with a mocking smile as Mycroft pursed his lips angrily.

"You're high as a kite!" Sir Edwin stated incredulously, and Sherlock replied: "Natural high, I assure you. Totally natural."

Mycroft looked like he was forcing himself to count to ten as Sherlock continued: "I'm just..." he suddenly broke out in a musical voice: "'glad to be alive'!"

Marie snorted, though she tried to hide it in a cough, while Sherlock smirked at the room as the two parliament officials stared at him, and he asked: "What shall we do next? What's your name?"

He suddenly pointed at Lady Smallwood's secretary, sitting politely in the corner, and the woman answered in surprise: "Vivian."

"What would you do, Vivian?" Sherlock asked, and Marie warned quietly as she saw Lady Smallwood's slightly irritated expression: "Sherlock."

"Pardon?" Vivian asked blankly.

"Well, it's a lovely day." Sherlock stated, ignoring Marie's warning. "Go for a stroll? Make a paper aeroplane? Have an ice lolly?"

He bit into another biscuit, and Vivian shrugged: "Ice lolly, I suppose."

"Ice lolly it is!" Sherlock said enthusiastically, while Mycroft stood testily. "What's your favourite?"

"Well, really, I shouldn't…" Vivian hesitated, but Sherlock encouraged: "Go on."

"Do they still do Mivvis?" the fragile-looking woman asked at last, perking up hopefully, and Lady Smallwood finally interrupted sharply: "Mr. Holmes."

"Yes?" Both Sherlock and Mycroft answered, before the latter looked at his brother and grimaced irritably.

"We do need to get on." Lady Smallwood just said pointedly, and Mycroft said immediately: "Yes, of course."

"Sherlock, you should probably sit back down." Marie added wisely.

Sherlock obliged easily, though he paused to retrieve his phone from his brother. He waved it smugly as he sat back down, and Marie rolled her eyes again at his childishness while Mycroft just gave him a sour look as he started the security clips.

On screen, Sherlock shouted over the whirring of helicopter blades: "Do your research. I'm not a hero. I'm a high-functioning sociopath."

A gunshot sounded and Magnussen fell as Sherlock faced the approaching Secret Service agents, his gun dropping from his hands seemingly harmlessly as Magnussen fell, apparently shot by some mysterious person.

Marie pursed her lips as she watched the various altered clips, showing Magnussen falling from a gunshot to the head and Sherlock's apparent innocence.

"I see." Sherlock murmured between bites of his biscuits. "Who is supposed to have shot him, then?"

"Some over-eager squaddie with an itchy trigger finger, that's who." Sir Edwin replied shortly, and Marie glanced over at Sherlock as he muttered: "That's not what happened at all."

"It is now." Mycroft stated flatly.

"Remarkable." Lady Smallwood commented. "How did you do it?"

"We have some very talented people working here." Sir Edwin answered, a tad smugly. "If James Moriarty can hack every TV screen in the land, rest assured we have the tech to doctor a bit of security footage."

He glanced at Marie very briefly, and Lady Smallwood also looked at the calm woman seated across from her.

Marie simply looked back coolly, showing no emotion, while Sir Edwin continued: "That is now the official version, the version anyone we want to will see."

"No need to go to the trouble of getting some sort of official pardon." Lady Smallwood said. "You're off the hook, Mr. Holmes. You're home and dry."

"OK, cheers." Sherlock said easily, getting to his feet and brushing crumbs off his suit. "Let's go, Marie."

She just gave him a look while Lady Smallwood interjected sharply: "Obviously, there's unfinished business. Moriarty."

"I told you," Sherlock mumbled around his last biscuit as he shrugged on his coat. "Moriarty's dead. Marie will back me up."

Sir Edwin glanced at said woman, while Lady Smallwood said with a raised brow: "You say he filmed that video message before he died."

"Yes." Sherlock replied, frowning as he wondered what the problem was.

"You also say," Lady Smallwood said skeptically, "you know what he's going to do next. What does that mean?"

"Perhaps that's all there is to it." Sir Edwin suggested. "Perhaps he was just trying to frighten you."

"No, no, he would never be that disappointing." Sherlock murmured, and Marie warned: "Sherlock."

He didn't hear her, too absorbed in his thoughts as he said thoughtfully: "He's planned something, something long-term. Something that would take effect if he never made it off that rooftop alive. Posthumous revenge. No, better than that - posthumous game."

"Sherlock." Marie said sharply, and he looked at her in surprise.

"Sorry, was I doing it again?" He asked, and she nodded.

"We brought you back to deal with this." Lady Smallwood said sternly. "What are you going to do?"

"Wait." Sherlock replied shortly as he moved to stand beside Marie's chair.

"Wait?" Lady Smallwood repeated incredulously, and Sherlock scoffed as he held out his hand: "Of course wait. I'm the target, targets wait."

Marie took Sherlock's hand, letting him help her up, and Sherlock helped her into her coat as he told Lady Smallwood: "Look, whatever's coming, whatever he's lined up, I'll know when it begins."

He held out his arm for Marie, and she took his elbow through her as he led them out of the office while he called over his shoulder: "I always know when the game is on. Do you know why?"

"Why?" Lady Smallwood asked, looking like she was barely keeping her annoyance at Sherlock in check, and Sherlock looked back as Marie glanced back over her shoulder.

"Because I love it." Sherlock stated, and then he pulled open the door and the pair walked out.

"You know I don't." Marie commented as they walked through the building, heading for the ground floor, and Sherlock snorted: "Yes, you do."

"All right, I do." Marie sighed. "But not when it gets you into trouble."

"I'll try to stay out of it, then." Sherlock answered. "Now, we should probably get you back home so you can rest."

He glanced t her pointedly as he added: "You really should have just gone home, never mind my brother."

"I did it for you, mostly." She shrugged. "Besides, working on those tapes didn't take long at all, not with the government's technology and your brother's permission."

"Might have affected the baby." Sherlock shrugged, and Marie pointed out: "If you were worried about that, you shouldn't have overdosed."

"It was necessary." Sherlock answered, and Marie replied: "It really wasn't."

"It was to me." Sherlock grumbled, and Marie answered: "I know, but you know I don't really like it when you use drugs as your method of solving unsolvable problems."

"I do know." Sherlock sighed. "But it really was necessary for me. I need to make sure you're safe."

"You know, it was that mentality that almost got you exiled." Marie pointed out. "And if it wasn't for the baby, I would go with you - you're not the only one who's willing to go to extremes to keep those you love safe, you know."

"I do know." Sherlock repeated softly. "That's why I made sure you and Mary couldn't follow John and I to Magnussen's place – it wasn't safe for you to go there."

"Which is why I divorced you in your vision." Marie said dryly, and Sherlock frowned.

"Suddenly I'm thinking it wasn't the best idea to tell you about what happened in my experiment." He muttered, and Marie answered lightly as they walked out the doors: "I still dislike the fact that I was called 'Rose-Marie' in your mind."

"What was wrong with it? 'Rose' after Rosanne and 'Marie' because, well, that's your name." Sherlock pointed out, and Marie returned: "Seriously? Rose?"

"It seemed very fitting." Sherlock muttered. "Rose, as in Briar Rose from Grimm's Fairy Tales? Trapped for years-"

"-Until she's saved by a kiss from her prince." Marie deadpanned. "Is that what you think of yourself as now?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Sherlock rolled his eyes as Mycroft's car drove up before them. "I dislike princes, and all that romantic folly."

"Yes, you wanted to be a pirate." Marie deadpanned. "And now, you want to be a dragon-slayer."

Sherlock scowled at her while she gave him an angelic smile, feigning innocence.

"I do not." He muttered, and Marie chuckled.

"Oh, Sherlock. You can't lie to me." She sighed as they climbed into the car. "I know what and how you think, and I don't wish to stop you, but…"

She trailed off with a sigh, and Sherlock pursed his lips. He knew exactly what she was talking about.

"Soon, it won't just be the two of us." Marie murmured, gesturing to her stomach.

"How could I forget?" Sherlock answered as he looked at the bump there with a mixture of fondness and apprehension.

Marie coaxed his face back up to meet his eyes once more as she said seriously: "I don't expect you to change what you do, because I know what solving crimes means to you. But I do want our child to know their father."

Sherlock's eyes became conflicted, and Marie caressed his cheek as she murmured: "So, please. Just keep that in mind before you put your life on the line next time, okay?"

"I, I can't promise to do better." Sherlock murmured truthfully. "But, I do promise I'll try."

"I know. And that's what I'm asking." Marie murmured, leaning in to tuck her head on Sherlock's shoulder.

"Thank you, Sherlock." Marie murmured after a moment, and he glanced at her again.

"For what?" He asked, puzzled, and she replied: "For being here. For coming back."

"Well, I think that was a little beyond me." Sherlock noted, and Marie shrugged as she answered: "I'm still glad you're back."

Sherlock softened, and as they drew up to Baker Street once more, he kissed her head and murmured: "I am, too."

Sherlock Narration

'There was once a merchant, in the famous market at Baghdad. One day he saw a stranger looking at him in surprise… and he knew that the stranger was Death.

Pale and trembling, the merchant fled the marketplace and made his way many, many miles, to the city of Samarra. For there he was sure Death could not find him.

But when, at last, he came to Samarra, the merchant saw, waiting for him, the grim figure of Death.

"Very well." Said the merchant. "I give in. I am yours… But tell me, why did you look surprised when you saw me this morning in Baghdad?"

"Because," said Death, "I had an appointment with you tonight... in Samarra."'

Sherlock plunged the knife into the stack of letters on the mantelpiece, muttering irritably: "If this gets any better, I'm going to get two knives."

"Pays to advertise." John answered absently, busy typing his latest blog entry, and Sherlock huffed as he settled himself into his armchair, pulling out his phone.

"So, what about Moriarty, then?" Mary asked as she rubbed her stomach while holding her back with a wince while settling into a chair by the table.

"Oh, I have a plan." Sherlock replied easily as he continued to Tweet away on his phone. "I'm going to monitor the underworld, every quiver of the web will tell me when the spider makes his move."

John paused in his own typing, and he said bluntly: "So, basically, your plan is just to sit there solving crimes like you always do?"

"Yup." Marie replied from her seat on John's armchair, also rubbing her stomach with a wince, and Sherlock added brightly: "Awesome, isn't it?"

*A/N And we're back! The new season has brought laughter and tears, but it's also motivated me to write out the sequel to my stories. And again, please watch the episodes first – because we love the show! – before reading, but otherwise I'm glad to be back and to share this with all my readers once more! As always, thank you for reading!