I'm so sorry this is so freakin late. I have no excuse except for the classic one. School. Anyway, you probably don't want to hear much more from me. Go and enjoy the next, and last chapter of this story! I am so glad this finally cooperated with me and allowed itself to finish. Now I can say that I have finally completed a multi-chapter fic. Hope you enjoy!


John feels so out of place. Visibly, he doesn't stand out as much as he feared due to the fact that there is a smattering of other military dress uniforms, though those are weighed down with the sheer number of decorations. All are ranks that John himself would have never even glimpsed in Afghanistan.

Standing by a wall, John hears a giggle coming from the corner. The voice sounds vaguely familiar, but not one he'd ever heard giggle before. Looking over, he realizes just who it is. Of all the people in the world to be giggling in public.

"Mycroft," John inquires as he walks up to him, "are you ok?"
"John, a pleasure to see you as well. I wasn't expecting you to be here."
"Uh, we just saw each other not an hour ago." And you're not one to draw pleasure from talking to someone as boring as me.
"Oh," he giggles, "right…"

John takes a closer look at Mycroft. Flushed face, lack of coordination, he seems... drunk? But Mycroft just doesn't… get drunk. John looks around for Sherlock, assuming that the detective would be around to help his brother-turned-lover.

"John, why are you looking at goldfish? They can't be that interesting." Mycroft pouts at him. Pouts. John is in seriously big in trouble.
"No, I'm just looking for Sherlock."

Mycroft reddens a bit, which would have been more noticeable had he not already been slightly red-faced from the alcohol.
"Oh, he. I saw him not too long ago. that was when he brought me that funny-tasting drink."
Oh hell, if John understood that correctly, then someone is in the doghouse. He curses under his breath.
Mycroft laughs. "Jooohn, Mummy said to never use foul language or she'll have to wash your mouth with soap."
Shit. John could skin that idiot.

"Evening John." A low voice cuts through John's musings, causing the doctor to whirl and face him.
"You. Utter. Cock."

Sherlock only raises an eyebrow.

"Did you think it'd be funny to get your brother drunk? Do you know how embarrassed he will be when he sobers up?! What if I hadn't been the one to find him? What if someone else found him and took advantage?! Huh! He is the British Government. Do you know how many people want to get at him and the secrets he holds! You could have compromised national security!"

Someone wraps their arms around John from behind and he suddenly finds himself draped in a drunk ginger.
"Shh, John. No anger. I don't like it when you get upset. Makes me want to cuddle you and kiss you until you're happy again. I like happy John."
Sherlock smirks. John just stands there flabbergasted. Did he just hear what he think he heard coming from the Iceman of all people? Something's up.

"Okay, Mycroft. Lets get you to a room. You need to sit down for a spell."
John motions to Sherlock to help him get Mycroft out of the room and to a more secluded spot.


The room where the three end up is a small, but opulent, library. John helps Mycroft onto a couch then proceeds to attempt an evaluation. Attempts, because suddenly Sherlock decides to become more… cuddly. He drapes himself over John and hinders his work.

"Sherlock," he sighs "please stop."
Mycroft glares at Sherlock, "Yes, do stop."
"Why brother dear?"
Mycroft just throws him a face that John finds unreadable but apparently isn't to Sherlock.
"Ah, I see how it is."
"He's mine." Mycroft growls at Sherlock.
"No, he's mine! I got him first."
John interjects their argument, "Guys, what the hell! Are you arguing over me?"
The two glance at him. "Don't ask stupid questions."
John huffs, "Don't I get a say-"
"-No." Both say emphatically, then resume glaring at each other. A silent moment passes as the two continue glaring at each other, then Sherlock concedes, "Very well, I agree."
Startled, John looks up, "Agree to what?"
Neither of the brothers answer his question. Mycroft gestures, "Shall you go first Sherlock? You were the one who found him."

"Oi!
Both Sherlock and Mycroft turn to look at John at the same time. Amusement flickers over Mycroft's normally impassive face, while glee and excitement flits about the corners of Sherlock's mouth. Sherlock glances over at Mycroft, raises an eyebrow, and when he receives an almost imperceptible nod, walks up to John. John stiffens at having Sherlock so close to him, their faces so close together that he could feel the other's breath on his cheek.

"Sherlock-" He is cut off by the other's lips against his. Well this is… new.
Unnoticed by John, Mycroft walks up to them and sandwiches him between the two brothers. The two younger men break their kiss. John leans his head back against Mycrofts shoulder.

"Well that was-"
"Shh, stop overthinking." Mycroft's mouth claims John's.

This actually seemed to be happening. John isn't exactly sure what to think, but given the situation he decides it might be better not to. However a small niggling doubt preys in the back of his mind. The two must be able to sense it since Mycroft calmed his fears.
"John, we know what we are doing. We both want this." John relaxes a fraction. "We are quite sure you want this as well, but if you are not truly comfortable, just say the word."
"No," John can feel Sherlock inhale sharply and still. "No, I do want this. Very much."
Sherlock lets out a low growl, "Good."


John slowly wakes up. Finding himself in an unfamiliar room, he thinks back to the previous night. Right, this is Mycroft's bed. Speaking of him, John looks over and sees the two brothers cuddled together in their sleep. Sherlock is curled up in Mycroft's arms while the older male nuzzles the dark hair.

A slow smile crawls across the doctors face. It was pleasant to see the two finally find the comfort and warmth they were so terribly lacking. It was even more pleasant to feel included, even welcomed, into that circle.

"Shut up John." Sherlock lazily blinks up at him.
"What?"
"You're thinking loudly."
"Fine." John huffs and turns to get up, but a hand grasps his arm and tugs him back. He rolls over and comes face to face with Mycroft.
"Stay."
The two brothers look so vulnerable. He can't resist. He can never resist.
"Yeah, I'll stay."