I've been toying with 3 different ideas for new RoseLocks and I decided to start with this one. Hope you enjoy it! :)

Low grade M rating, some people might consider it T, just so you know. :)

John walked up the familiar steps to Sherlock's flat, a flat he once shared with his best friend, but that had been three years ago. Before the fall. Before Sherlock was forced to fake his death by the most dangerous criminal London had ever known.

During that time he'd grieved the loss of his closest friend. The man whose friendship had saved him. But he didn't grieve alone. He met someone and with her help he began to heal. That is until his best friend returned from the dead, opening a wound that hadn't fully healed, but that wasn't anything a few good punches, a broken nose, a few stitches, a few days of anger, and a massive bomb couldn't fix. But then that was friendship.

He heard voices coming from the open door as he drew near. Sherlock and Mycroft. Brilliant. Separate he could handle them, but together they became genius children. Always trying to outdo each other and don't even get him started on the sibling rivalry.

"I don't understand why you won't help me," Mycroft said. "I am your brother after all."

"Which is exactly why I won't help you, Mycroft," Sherlock retorted.

Brilliant. John stepped into his friend's flat. They seemed to be having a game of chess, but he knew better than to believe it was merely a game and definitely anything, but simple.

"You will if I win," Mycroft replied.

"You won't," the detective said.

Another game over some case. He hated walking in on these.

"Won't I?"

Mycroft lifted his only remaining knight and a moment later Sherlock's queen was in his hand.

"That's not legal," the detective snapped, sitting forward and eyeing the board.

"It's perfectly legal. Mother's laws Sherlock, remember?"

What the hell did that mean?

Sherlock hissed, sitting back.

"Your move, dear brother," Mycroft continued.

"I won't do it," Sherlock snapped in that childish manner.

The one that always overcame him when he was around his brother and sometimes when he wasn't.

"You will if I win. You made an agreement."

"I'm changing my mind."

Mycroft eyed his brother.

"You can't change your mind halfway through the game, Sherlock."

"I can. It's my game."

Again with the childishness. John shook his head. Mycroft sighed.

"Don't be such a child." The elder Holmes caught sight of John. "John, do make him see reason, won't you?"

Make Sherlock see reason?

"What makes you think I can do that?" he asked.

"He listens to you."

John almost laughed at that.

"He doesn't listen to me."

Sherlock narrowed his brows. John just shook his head.

"Of course he does, though he might not admit it, but you know how intransigent my brother can be."

The detective eyed his brother.

"Why not have John do it?" Sherlock asked.

Have him do what? Was he trying to pawn the elder Holmes' case off on him? Probably. Sherlock had done that more than once.

"Oh, do be serious, Sherlock," Mycroft scoffed.

"I am being serious," the detective replied, moving his castle to capture Mycroft's last knight. "Your turn brother."

He glanced from one Holmes to the other.

"Why not have John do what?" John asked.

"It's not as if he lives alone. He's got that…woman…what's her name…"

"Mary," Sherlock offered.

"Yes, Mary."

Mycroft nodded. What did having Mary have to do with taking a case?

"Oh, so because I live alone I should be burdened?"

Wait. What did Sherlock mean by that? What would it matter if he lived alone or not?

"This is of national importance," Mycroft insisted.

"Your importance you mean," Sherlock corrected.

"I need to know who she is."

Hang on. What? She?

"Take her to a doctor then. I hear they do wonders for people."

Were they talking about a woman?

"Her? Her who?" John asked.

"Don't you think I've tried that? Twelve doctors. Ten psychiatrists. And still nothing," Mycroft said, ignoring the doctor.

Wait. What?

"And you think I can do any better?" Sherlock asked.

"You can't do any worse," Mycroft replied capturing Sherlock's castle with his own and then sitting back.

Was Mycroft trying to get Sherlock to help him with a woman? One who had some form of amnesia and who had been subjected to a host of doctors and psychiatrists because Mycroft wanted to know who she was?

"What's this really about, Mycroft?" Sherlock asked, eyeing the elder Holmes.

"I'm sorry?" Mycroft asked, as if he had no idea what his brother was talking about.

Were they playing a game over her? Oh, John had seen them behave like bastards before, but this, this took the cake.

"If it were that important for you to find out who she is you'd have set up a round the clock vigil, but here you are trying to pawn her off on me."

"Oi!" John shouted, finally having enough of the two. Both men turned to him.

"Did you want something, John?" Sherlock asked.

"Just to clarify," he snapped. "Are you two having a game of chess to determine the fate of a woman whose mental state is so delicate that she's seen twelve doctors and ten psychiatrists?"

"Yes, of course," Mycroft replied.

"Really, John, how else would we determine where she goes?" Sherlock inquired.

He contemplated punching both of them, which he knew wouldn't do any good, well, it would make him feel good. Instead he shot to his feet and headed into the kitchen, fuming.

"What're you doing?" his friend inquired.

"Making tea," he snapped.

"I'll take a cup when it's ready."

"I'll give you something all right."

"As you were saying," Sherlock replied, obviously returning to his conversation with Mycroft and completely ignoring John, which was fine with the doctor at that moment.

"She…" Mycroft cleared his throat. "Doesn't appear to be very…taken by me."

"I'm sorry?" Sherlock inquired.

John could almost imagine the elder Holmes shifting uncomfortably and as if on cue he heard the unmistakable sounds of Mycroft shifting in the chair.

"I tried to question her on more than one occasion. The first of which she told me, quite literally, to sod off." John couldn't help smiling at the thought of some woman telling the elder Holmes to sod off. "The second she called me a few unsavory names and threw her tea at me. Ruined what was a very expensive suit."

"Check mate," Sherlock announced.

"Damn!" Mycroft exclaimed. "Wait. But-"

"Mother's rules, remember, brother dear?" John heard Sherlock shift. "I'll take the case."

"Sorry?" Mycroft asked, in shock.

"You can bring her round this evening. Say seven. I'll make all the preparations."

"Really?"

"Oh, come brother, how could I turn down someone who obviously cares for you as much as I do."

"Yes," Mycroft replied and John could hear the contempt in his voice. "Right."

John popped his head back in the room as Mycroft stood up and crossed the room toward the door, but the elder Holmes paused before opening it.

"Your job is to find out who she is, Sherlock."

"I don't need you to tell me how to do my job, brother dear. Now, why don't you go play with your trains or something until this evening?"

Mycroft glowered at Sherlock and then he opened the door and stepped out. John returned to the kitchen, threw together two cups of tea, and then walked into the living room. He sat Sherlock's cup on the side table with enough force to slosh some of the tea on the arm of his friend's chair.

"Careful," Sherlock snapped.

"Right," John replied, sitting down across from the detective in the chair he still thought of as his chair, the one Mycroft had been sitting in. "So, it's all right with you then?"

"Sorry?" Sherlock asked as he put the chess pieces back on the board.

"Deciding someone's fate over a game?"

"Ah," the detective said, sitting back and catching John's gaze. "I've disappointed you again, haven't I?"

"You could say that, yeah."

"What would you have me do, John? Rescue her from the clutches of my evil brother?"

"That would do."

"Haven't I done just that?"

"Sorry?" John asked, taken back.

"She'll be arriving here in five hours twenty-one minutes," Sherlock replied, glancing at his watch.

"You planned this?"

"From the moment he arrived, well, three minutes after. He does like to drone on."

"And you let me believe you were being as much of a bastard as Mycroft?"

"And it worked."

He couldn't help grinning. He should've known Sherlock was playing along. His friend had changed a lot in the years they'd known each other.

"So, she'll be here at seven and then what?" John asked.

"You'll help me of course," Sherlock replied taking a drink of his tea.

"Right. Of course," he paused eyeing his friend. "Wait. What do you mean help you?"

"Set your old room up for her. Make sure she's comfortable. Take care of her."

Wait. What?

"Sorry?"

"She'll need looking after, of course. Especially after Mycroft's not so hospitable treatment and you did comment on her fragile mental state."

"I'll, well, I'll help, of course, but, Sherlock, I can't be here round the clock."

Sherlock gave John that you have something better to do? look.

"Why not?" his friend asked.

"Well, there's Mary and my practice," he pointed out.

He dismissed both with a wave of his hand.

"So, tell Mary you need a few days and I'm sure you have some sick leave saved up."

"Not really, I've used most of it on our cases."

"So, call in."

"I can't."

His friend gave him a pleading look, one he saved up for these occasions.

"You've got to," his friend insisted.

"And besides. Amnesia can last for days, weeks, years. You know that." Sherlock looked beside himself. Did he really believe John would drop everything and stay there however long it took? He could see answer. Yes, that was exactly what his friend thought. "I'll stay tonight and a bit of tomorrow if for nothing else than to assess her and make sure she's settled in. After that I'll check on her every day, but that's the best I can offer."

Standard Disclaimer.

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

Reviews are always welcome. :)