There was a third Holmes brother. Nobody said he'd be under the name Holmes.
Sherlock remembers the time well, though it's stored away deep in his mind palace.
"You always wanted to have a place to yourself, a bubble away from the world to do your work, now you do." Some random woman in blonde that Sherlock cared not to store the name of intended to leave him in an apartment for the rest of his life with tags and UNAS – complete and total surveillance to the point where he can't use public transportation.
Sherlock was under an alias at the time, Stephen Ezard. Not too many steps from his own name, but just enough that he wasn't Mycroft's brother when he was trying to make a name for himself as a mathematician – a career he had once tried to pursue when there were no clients for his whims as a 'consulting detective' wherever he'd go.
Their brother was under an alias as well. Mycroft was already well-established enough in the government by that time, with level one clearance, to know that his brother under the alias of Michael Ezard was going to be killed trying to get away. Mycroft had his own way of surveillance, one that would prove key in stopping what they'd tried to install with Sherlock.
When the blonde girl went to leave, Sherlock was determined to get out. "Sherlock Holmes, name sound familiar?"
"Mycroft Holmes is." the blonde replies as she turns back to him. "Why?"
"I really am the last person you'd want as an enemy," Sherlock promises, turning back to look towards her. "Mycroft, I know you're surveying this. It's too late for Michael but save Yasim."
A phone rings and Sherlock picks it up. "I can't save our brother, but you want me to call off the target on his wife?"
"Yes," Sherlock says, staring the blonde in the eyes as he says it. "And get this bloody surveillance off of me – don't you have enough stocked up not to attach it to me?"
Mycroft huffs in agreement. "I will put efforts in effect immediately, Sherlock."
"Much appreciated," Sherlock says, snapping shut his mobile. "We've never been properly introduced it seems. My name is Sherlock Holmes, pleasure."
Memory snaps back to present day as he wakes up from a rather nasty dream to John yelling downstairs. "Sherlock, someone's at the door. Looking for a Stephen – another one of your case names?"
Sherlock springs out of bed, throwing on his night dress. He peeks his head out of his room. "What does the client look like?"
"Female, rather short hair brown hair," John replies in haste.
Sherlock's eyes go wide. "You're not joking?"
This is years and years following Yasim's disappearance. It is several drug addictions and thousands of cases later than that life. He'd never thought Mycroft would be able to get her back.
John huffs. "Why would I be joking about that?"
Sherlock runs across the flat, shutting the bathroom door behind him. "Let her in, I'll be out in a few minutes."
John rolls his eyes before opening the door. "He'll be out in a few minutes, when he's looking decent. Sorry, what was your name again?"
"Yasim," she answers, smiling brightly. "He's actually here?"
"Always here, really," Mary answers as she steps out from the kitchen, carrying baby Sherlock. It was a girl's name, they found after Sherlock's extensive research. Combine that with Sherlock being the one who saved their marriage after Mary did all she did? It was a fair trade. "Hasn't look this enthusiastic about a client since…well, there usually is quite a bit of gore involved for this much excitement."
"Unless, you don't look the mass-murdering type," John says, taking a breath. "I'm not very good at telling though, because Mary didn't look it either. Oh, that's Mary and I'm John. She's harmless now, I promise."
"What does Stephen do now?" Yasim asks, clearly seen enough things that this is less terrifying to her as she takes a seat in Sherlock's chair.
John and Mary take a look between each other before looking back at her, realizing they might as well let Sherlock tell her to move chairs if he so pleases. "He is a consulting detective – only one in the world."
"Sherlock Holmes – so that's his real name then?" Yasim asks curiously, having learned only recently that they were under fake aliases by Mycroft's word but not given the full security detail, allowing Sherlock to get something left to explain.
"Yeah," Mary says, sitting across from her in John's chair, hoisting little Sherlock in her lap. "The names we choose for ourselves mean something to us. It's not like he was meaning to hide, he was more likely either trying to dodge Mycroft or protect clients like you."
Sherlock was fumbling around in the bathroom. He was sure he looked fine but wanting to be absolutely sure as he ruffled his hair a fourth time. He adjusts his purple shirt again as he is making sure it tucks just right into his suit pants. He holds the sink as he looks into the mirror. Before exiting, he sends out a text.
Thank you. – SH
Never say I do nothing for you. – MH
Nothing unrequited, as I'm sure you expect me back on case within the hour? – SH
Master criminal on the loose so yes, Sherlock, I do. – MH
I'd be willing to allow a bit of lee-way, it has been years. – MH
Thanks again. – SH
Sherlock exits the bathroom, even knowing she was there shocked it's truly her. Yasim jumps out of her chair and runs up to him, wrapping her arms around him in a bone-crushing hug. "I thought I'd never see you again."
"I promised I would find you," Sherlock whispers as he pulls away, holding Yasim's face in his hands. "I'm sorry, I just need to process that you're okay. I sent my brother after you as soon as I could. Mycroft brought you back safe then?"
"All sorts of fancy jets and meetings later, here I am," Yasim promises, smiling through her whole face.
John looks between them and Mary. "Any idea what's going on?"
Mary smiles as she watches them. "I'd ask."
Sherlock leans down and kisses Yasim once, the way they used to kiss in which was so passionate that it almost seemed inappropriate for company. However, present company was John and Mary and he's absolutely certain they'd seen worse from him. Sherlock pulls away first. "I have some explaining to do."
"Yeah, that'd, yeah," John says, taking a seat in Sherlock's chair. "Client couch, if you please."
Sherlock scoffs. "Is that really necessary?"
"Considering you got a new identity and displayed human emotion beyond what we've seen of you since…I don't even know since when, yeah," John says, gesturing towards the sofa.
They take their seats on the sofa before Sherlock begins the story. "Yasim is my brother's widow. No, not Mycroft as you are so obviously thinking. Michael is the name she knew him by, let's keep it there. We bonded in the time he was apart."
"Bonded is quite a fancier word than how Michael put it. How was it – you 'got laid' on the night of my funeral? Was that not his question?" Yasim asks, scooting closer to Sherlock.
"How did a dead person ask?" Mary asks almost simultaneously with John's criticism.
John stops the conversation. "You slept with your brother's wife?"
"Widow," Sherlock corrects, turning to Yasim as he wraps his arm around her. "People always seem to get that confused. We both thought him dead."
"There's a lot of it we can't explain, government secrets and all that Mycroft needs hidden," Yasim explains, trying to find a polite way of explaining their story.
"It was like the initial round of the Moriarty case with more blood and more complex government involvement," Sherlock explains to John. "Hopefully this time will be simpler."
"If you were to sleep with your brother's wife, what's to stop you from sleeping with someone else's wife – like Mary, for instance?" John asks, bringing back to that question.
"Oh, John, you know we only do that when you're involved," Mary says with a wink.
John groans. "Our child is right in your arms and we have a guest – are you a psychopath?"
"High functioning sociopath," Sherlock corrects, the phrase never failing to bring a smile to his lips.
"He was referring to me, Sherlock, in which he's correct," Mary says, smiling brighter. "That's why you love me John, so that's fine."
Yasim chimes in. "Threesome?"
"You've come into quite the complicated situation, I hope you don't mind," Sherlock extends, turning towards her again. "That was a one-time thing, only once – shortly after their Sex Holiday."
"Honeymoon, Sherlock, and I still can't figure out how to take that post off my blog," John says, cursing under his breath.
Yasim laughs softly. "Can't be more complicated than the roots of our relationship, I'm sure I'll fare fine. Can we go on one of those?"
Sherlock knows she doesn't mean honeymoon but the other name for it and smirks. "Once our current case is finished, we most certainly can."
"Do we have time for once," Yasim asks in a lower voice.
"I thought you'd never ask," Sherlock answers as he stands up and grabs Yasim's hand, pulling her along with him to his bedroom. "Perhaps take the baby for a stroll?" Sherlock says semi-sympathetically before pulling them both behind a closed door into their whirl of perfectly hectic kisses and bodies melding together just right.
John turns to Mary, who's already preparing little Sherlock in her stroller to go outside. "What – I'm going to leave like he asks. Wouldn't it be nice to give them some privacy?"
"Only once," John mumbles to himself.
"What, darling?" Mary asks curiously, about to head out the door.
"Go on without me, I think I will just go upstairs," John says, not knowing why he's sad.
Author's Note: I was not happy with the ending to The Last Enemy and this happened. I may or may not write more, but it goes against my Johnlock roots to write this as you can tell by my cliffhanger. Let me know what you thought, I always like a good round of feedback before considering if something will be continued or not. I apologize to The Last Enemy fans because I really couldn't remember the blonde girl's name while writing this even though I finished watching it not but a day ago. I didn't think Sherlock would care enough to remember it either, so I think it fit in fine. Well, I think that's that but I am pretty darn happy with it.