"STOP THIS FUCKING CAR!" John yelled and was out before the car stopped. Nothing, absolutely nothing was prepared him for this. It was like someone had punched the air out of him when he stumbled out. World was spinning around him.

"You have to be joke. And it's cruel joke Mycroft." John said leaning side of the lamp-post trying to breath.

But he could see that Mycroft was serious. Last five month John was learned lot of older Holmes brother. He wasn't so hard to read when you knew his younger brother. They were too many way very similar, although also so many way different.

"He thinks that you are dead." Mycroft said, standing near of him, his voice low and his eyes studying the surroundings. John blinked, trying to understand. Too much too fast.

"Dead? Me? What?"

Mycroft sighed, rolling his eyes. "When you disappeared and you were assumed to be dead. I tried to find you then and I failed. After that Sherlock had been very much out of my reach. I haven't heard anything from him after your return so I haven't told him yet. So, what I know he think you are dead or he should be here already."

Was this real? John noticed how his left hand was trembling. It hadn't trembled for a long time now.

"He… he thinks that I'm dead? And I though he's dead. Mycroft, please, don't mess with me. Please, just, don't." It's so confusing. Sherlock thinking that he was dead? Was this some kind of irony of life? Mycroft stepped closer, leaned forward, watching him carefully, but his mask never dropping. Not outside like this. But there was something in his voice what John couldn't understand.

"I stopped looking you John. Sherlock never forgave me that. When he left I promised to him that I would take care of you, and I failed."

John laughed painfully and it turned out more like a hysterical giggle. "And now I work for you. Was that part of you great plan?"

Mycroft stiffened. "Yes."

John shook his head, he had should know from the beginning. "How kind of you Mycroft."

Mycroft looked away. "I wanted to keep you as close as possible after your return. I didn't want to lose you too. Again."

John stared Mycroft and saw no emotions, but those words still hit. Mycroft wasn't doing this all just because of Sherlock. Mycroft was doing this because of him?

"Thank you." John tried to calm down, think more reasonably. It took time and they just stood there. "So, he faked his own death. Why?" John finally asked.

"Lets go back inside the car now that you are calmed down enough. We are not safe here."

John nodded and they went back. Anthea didn't dare to look up.

"To protect you, Lestrade and Mrs Hudson. There were snipers, ready to kill you three. If Sherlock had not jumped, then you would be dead. That was the price. But he guessed, no, he knew that Moriarty was up something like that. Fortunately, or no, they though very similarly at some point." Mycroft sighed, letting some of his icy mask to drop.

"What a frightening idea." John murmured. He couldn't think Sherlock and Moriarty in same sentence. Similar yes, but not the same. He remembered that last call and closed his eyes. It all was coming back, everything what he though he had left behind. He though that he had left Sherlock and his enemy behind after the funeral. He had met Mary, beautiful Mary who had also died in his arms. He had accepted all of that, all those deaths. All his loved ones who had died and left him behind. And now, now Sherlock was alive?

"How he could do that to me. How could he? Even if our life was in stake. Watching him how he…"

Fall.

"God, he thinks I died. He doesn't know. Maybe, maybe he had already deleted me on his mind." John grimaced but Mycroft shook his head.

"Never you John. Never you." Mycroft's voice was so quiet and soft. "You mean for him lot more than you maybe realize. He planned to come back someday, after he had hunted down all the Moriarty's men. He was coming back to you, trusting that you would wait him."

John didn't know what to think. He cleared his throat, pushing pack his tears.

"Moran."

"Yes, Moriarty's lapdog. Still free and I bet that Sherlock is after him right now. Here in London."

"That arrogant git." John bent over his knees, buried his head on his hands. He was beyond angry. One miracle, one tiny miracle had come true. Sherlock was alive. Alive. But hunting, not knowing that John was there, also hunting. Mycroft continued.

"When I reach him again, and I though he may call me soon, I can…"

"No, don't tell about me to him." John interrupted him. Now Mycroft actually looked surprised. "John?"

"I want to tell him myself. Face to face." No, he didn't, but he have to. Not like this, not through the phone call or someone else telling you the truth.

"Don't do anything rash John." Mycroft warned.

"Me? You know me Mycroft." John laughed bitterly and leaned back again.

"Yes, yes I do know you John. Alright, you tell him when you meet him again. And I make sure that I'm not there then. Maybe not even in country." Mycroft muttered.

"May be better that way." John grinned. Mycroft moved uncomfortably and John just knew that the next words would be hard to Mycroft to say aloud. "I'm sorry John that this came out like this, I don't…"

But John didn't let him continue. "Don't Mycroft. You did what he asked. I can't blame you. I forgive you everything years ago. And you saved me."

"I never saved you from…"

"No, after that. When you offered your war to me. Thank you." Saved by Holmes brothers, that was just his life, John sighed. Mycroft was brave enough to smile.

"You would choose otherwise. Maybe building your own practice. You are a doctor after all. And very wealthy man."

But John just smiled, watching how the city lights left at night the ghosts of normal peoples. This wasn't normal. Nothing in this was normal. His life was so much more.

"No I'm not. Not just a doctor. Not just a soldier or a weapon. Those days in Sahara with Mary, chanced me too much that I would never be anything like just a doctor. Even before that, I was already chanced my way. With Sherlock…" John couldn't think anymore. They fell in silence until Anthea spoke.

"Found him."