Sherlock couldn't believe he was back home. Less than an hour ago a plane had whisked him away to a destination where he would have met his untimely death probably in a very unpleasant way. Saying goodbye to John had been painful. He had tried lightening the mood by making a joke but he had seen the pain in the depth of his friend's blue eyes, knowing it had reflected his own.

Sherlock had known that if he hugged the doctor he wouldn't be able to let go, so he had offered his hand and John had taken it, had shaken the consulting detective to his very core in the process.

Now he was back and as helpless as the moment he had left.

There were tears of joy in John's eyes but his hand was linked with Mary's who wouldn't uncurl her fingers that kept her husband securely by her side.

They exchanged a few words and once again Sherlock would haunt New Scotland Yard, trying to unravel the mystery of Moriarty's sudden reappearance.

That John would be at his side was questionable at best. Sherlock's heart broke when Mary's icy glance pushed him away from his friend and he turned to the only person who loved and cared for him. The man who would always be there; his brother.