A/N

In light of the information revealed in TAB I have made some minor changes to the pre-existing changes in this fic. It has not changed the plot or direction of the plot at all, I have just included some info that was suggested in TAB on the airstrip.

John and Mary whispered to each other as they prepared a pot of Earl Grey and put four teacups and spoons on a tray. Sherlock stood with his back to his guests, staring out of his window looking out onto a clear January evening on Baker Street. Mycroft Holmes stood completely still, his expressionless face focused on the back of his younger brother.

"Teas ready" Mary tried her best to sound cheerful as she brought the tray into the room and placed it carefully onto the small table next to Sherlock's chair. John followed her, his face lined with worry. Neither of the Holmes brothers moved until Sherlock spoke in a much gentler tone than usual, "John, Mary… would you mind leaving me with my brother? I need to speak with him". It was apparent that Sherlock was not much bothered that Mary had made tea for four. Mary said nothing but turned to her husband, who was frowning at his former house mate.

"Sherlock, the last time Moriarty was… alive, and you and your brother made a plan without my knowledge, I lost you for two years." His voice cracked at the thought of what he had been through during Sherlock's 'hiatus'. "I won't let that happen again Sherlock". A tender silence dominated 221B for about half a minute before Sherlock turned to face John, his friend, "I won't be going anywhere… but please, leave me alone with Mycroft for now".

Mary was surprised at how careful Sherlock's words were, how patient he was being as he fixed his eyes on John. The doctor gave a brief nod and spoke with as little emotion as he was capable, "text me Sherlock".

"Yes" was all the detective replied, still holding eye contact. John turned to leave and Mary walked behind him, after she had given a sympathetic smile to the younger Holmes brother. The married couple picked up their coats and left the flat. Sherlock turned back to the window and watched as Mary and John got into their car and drove off into the darkness of central London.

Once again there was silence inside 221B, Mycroft remained still until his younger brother turned to face him. When Sherlock eventually did turn around, Mycroft did not see the 37 year old standing before him. Instead he saw a vulnerable boy, struggling to comprehend the events that had taken place between last week and mere hours ago.

"I think you have some explaining to do, brother mine" Sherlock flatly addressed Mycroft, he gestured towards John's chair indicating that Mycroft should sit down to have this conversation. Mycroft sat down in the chair and stared at the rug beneath his shoes. After a contemplative pause Mycroft began to speak in his trademark matter of fact tone.

"The man you know as Jim Moriarty is not behind this."

"Of course he isn't, I saw him kill himself. And as I said earlier this afternoon I even went to the trouble of a minor overdose to prove it. Who is behind it then? This already feels as though it is going to be a very interesting case" Sherlock crossed his legs and leant toward his brother. Mycroft continued, "Our intelligence tells us that this chain of events was orchestrated by a man named Jonathan Blake. Blake is a very rich man who likes to bank roll a number of prominent criminals, making profit when their illicit pursuits are successful. It would seem that his preferred criminal activity is that of drug dealing. MI6 have reason to believe that he is the primary, and possibly only supplier of imported heroin, and British synthetic street drugs including cocaine and MDMA. He is at the top of a hierarchy of drug dealers. From what we know at this stage, he has faked the return of Moriarty for two reasons. One is that there are a number of people who were in financial debt to Moriarty's web when he died on the roof of Bart's hospital, faking his return should be enough to convince those indebted to pay who they believe to be Moriarty. The second reason; is us."

Sherlock said nothing as he processed the new information, he unconsciously poured himself a cup of Earl Grey from the tray that Mary had left on the table. He added one sugar cube and stirred it. "Us?"

Mycroft sighed, there was a dark look in his eye as he too poured himself a cup of Earl Grey, added a splash of milk but no sugar. "From what we can gather, Blake and Moriarty were familiar with each other. Of course this is expected, two very powerful criminals, both at the top of an extensive chain of command. They rarely worked in league with one another, Blake very much specialised in drugs, whereas Moriarty didn't specialise at all, he had his fingers in much more. They went about their business in peace, neither man was going to report the other, and neither man had much interest in getting involved in the other's affairs. A part from the obvious there is one thing that both men had in common; a somewhat obsessive hatred of a Holmes."

"And which Holmes does Blake have an obsessive hatred of?"

"Sherrinford."

The colour disappeared from Sherlock's already pasty face, he took another sip of his tea and stared straight ahead. He obviously wasn't looking at the kitchen, but gazing straight through it. Mycroft was unsure as to whether Sherlock was thinking or merely staring blankly. "You remember what Sherrinford was… before…"

"Yes. I suppose that Blake was a rival, perhaps somebody who suffered. This caused an obsessive hatred which I assume Moriarty encouraged when he learnt of it. But I don't understand. Why does that put me in any danger? Sherrinford is incarcerated, and even if he wasn't it is not as though I would be at risk physically or emotionally if some harm were to come to him. I cannot see how this is any problem of ours Mycroft."

Sherlock was looking deep into Mycroft's tired eyes, Mycroft spoke carefully; "There are two elements of this which I am unclear on. The first is how Blake was able to pose as Moriarty, and how he was able to project him over every single screen in the United Kingdom. This suggests that Blake's link to Moriarty is perhaps more evolved than we currently have evidence to suggest. This puts you in potential danger Sherlock. Gaining more information on Blake will be tricky, MI6 are working on it as we speak, but this will undoubtedly be a slow process…" Mycroft lowered his voice "Sherlock we are going to have to visit our brother. He can tell us more about Blake and give detailed insight into what might be motivating him."

Sherlock stood, he picked up his violin and propped it under his chin, he walked back to the spot next to the window in which he had been standing before John and Mary left. He held the bow in his right hand and closed his eyes. "Why are you allowing me to be part of this Mycroft?" for once Sherlock asked a genuine question without sounding impatient or angry.

"Because, brother dear" Mycroft too, stood up and straightened out his suit jacket, "This is work. And I don't want to receive another list from you. Also, I believe you will be able to talk to Sherrinford. I think it will be highly unlikely he will be very receptive to me at all, given… the circumstances. I will send a car tomorrow for 9AM."

"Are you certain that this case will decrease the chances of another list…?" Sherlock's eyebrows quirked at he spoke.

"No Sherlock. I am never sure. But I'll be there for you regardless. 9AM tomorrow."

Sherlock nodded and began to play his violin, Mycroft took this as his prompt to leave. Wordlessly he left his brother's flat and got into the black car that awaited him. It had been a long day and tomorrow would be even longer, so much history was about to be so unceremoniously dug up.

Sherlock watched his brother leave, as he had watch the Watsons leave half an hour earlier. Sherlock had given John his word, he would text him. But right at this moment, Sherlock took solace in the music he was playing. He tried his hardest to focus his mind on playing his violin, but it was impossible. He had not heard his eldest brother's name mentioned for twenty years, and tomorrow he was to meet with him.