Authors Note: This is my first Fanfic, so please be easy on me. Feedback would be appreciated. (: Thanks


~Mycroft POV~

Mycroft just came out of the telephone box. He was hiding, trying not to be seen. He was supposed to be following John Watson, but it's really difficult to follow someone, when the person you're supposed to be following stops all the time. This particular time John had just stopped at the bakery, to buy some bread. John left the bakery and carried on walking, to the spot that not-so-well-hidden Mycroft was stood. So, naturally, Mycroft hid behind the object closest to him, that he could hide behind - or in this case inside- which happened to be a phone box.

Now Mycroft wasn't spying on John because he was strange, but because Sherlock had told him to. When Mycroft first began following John,about a month before, he tried following him using just security cameras on buildings, but due to the fact that John had been Sherlock's friend for a very long time, meaning before long John noticed something suspicious about almost every CCTV camera he saw was pointing at him.

"Sherlock" Mycroft said. "We can't keep doing this. He'll notice."

"Younger brother, this is John. He won't notice." Sherlock answered sternly, looking at the screen in front of him, with pictures of his closest friend doing what he usually does.
"Well, how do you explain his frequent looks at the camera. And look at that he's speeding up. And his eyes. They look suspicious. Come on, Sherlock, I think you're losing your touch."

"Shut up, Mycroft!" Sherlock said angrily. Mycroft couldn't help but notice a slight hint of a smile creep up on his face when he said about John being suspicious.

"Well, don't forget that he spent almost two years in your company, so naturally he would have started to notice things." At this, Sherlock smiled. In that moment, Mycroft knew that what Sherlock felt towards John was more than just friendship, although how, he did not know how. "This just means that you are going to have to follow him the old-fashioned way, again." Sherlock stated.

"I am currently working for MI5 and I end up following your old friends in my free time because you're too cowardly to do it yourself." Mycroft said.

"He's only one friend, by the way." Sherlock answered before leaving the room that they were sitting in. "And I'm family. Didn't mother always say that family always comes first?" Sherlock shouted from the hallway.

John turned a corner. Mycroft waited for a second before turning that same corner, just seconds later. As soon as he had walked down the street, he recognised it. He hadn't been down it since Sherlock's "death", in fact after thinking he realised he hadn't been down it much when Sherlock did live there. He saw John stop at a house in the middle of Baker Street, and he knew at once, which one it was. John was stood looking at his old apartment, 221B Baker Street, when Mycroft walked over. "How have you been doing John?" Mycroft asked, trying to sound somewhat comforting, while avoiding John's eye by looking at the building. He saw John wipe a tear that was starting to form in the corner of his eye. "It's different" John said, after a silence that seemed to last hours. "Without him" He said motioning to the house. He paused again for a second. "I miss him Mycroft." John had started to get choked up, which made Mycroft feel very uncomfortable. "Me too." Mycroft replied with a slight sigh. After a minute had passed Mycroft left. That's enough for today, he thought. He walked to the end of the street and caught a taxi back his home.

In the taxi he called Sherlock. He dialled the phone number and Sherlock picked up on the first ring. He really needs to do something.

"Yes, Mycroft?" Sherlock said impatiently.

"You have to tell him."

"I can't Mycroft, not yet"

"It's killing him Sherlock, please."

"He'll be so angry. What will he say?"

"Just tell him. He'll come around, but please soon. I can't do this again."

"So, I take it he wasn't doing so well?"

"No Sherlock, not at all." There was silence on the phone.

"And, uh, thanks Mycroft."

"Bye little brother." Mycroft hung up.


~John's POV~

John was on his way back to his sister's apartment. They never got on well when she had her alcoholic problems but John was forced to move in with her after Sherlock died. She had decided to stop drinking a while before and had just finished a rehab program. In John's opinion, he thought she was much more bearable. When he first knocked on her door, she looked almost glad to see him, even though he looked very rough after having a couple of drinks in an attempt to drown out his problems. It was three in the morning and she helped him clear up and get sober again. John stayed with her ever since.

John stopped of at the bakery near Baker Street to get some bread for Ms Hudson. Every once in awhile, he goes to visit her and see how she's doing. Today though as he stopped off, Mycroft started to talk to him. Which was weird because Mycroft never spoke to him, although he was always around. John noticed him a lot recently, but he assumed that was because he felt guilty about what happened to Sherlock. After their awkward encounter, John went home. On his way home, he could have sworn that he saw Sherlock sitting on a bench in the graveyard he was buried. But Sherlock has been dead for four months.

The next day, on his way to work (in the nearby grocery store, he lost his job at the hospital after Sherlock died because he showed up late a couple of times too many), John sees him again, in the exact same place he was before. John thought he was mad. Going round the twist. I'm fine. I'm completely sane John thought to himself. He carried on walking to work. On his way back from work, he walked the same way past Sherlock's grave. He put down some flowers, hoping that it would clear his conscience. It was just his mind playing tricks on him or memories of his time with Sherlock. After leaving, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He thought that it was just a text from Harry, worrying about where he was. He pulled out his phone and the text was from an unknown number. It read:
Come Here - SH

John blinked and looked at the phone. It couldn't be. He looked around and sure as day, sitting on the bench near the church was his best friend. Not dead.