Chapter 4

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Dr. Watson?

John was pacing the small kitchen. He had cleaned himself up from earlier and now was all business. Back ramrod straight, about face turns, and rock steady hands.

"Don't act like you don't know what's going on Mycroft. There's no way you don't know that I found my own dog tags shoved down a dead woman's throat at my first crime scene. Now I need you to send me all the CCTV footage from Baker Street for the last week."

"What was in the box, Dr. Watson?"

John walked over to the window and looked out from behind the sheer curtains down at the pedestrians below. He idly wondered if he had missed some piece of surveillance equipment left over from before the fall. He didn't quite have it in him to be angry with Mycroft. His wrath was more appropriately directed elsewhere. He dropped the curtain and sank into his armchair.

"HIS scarf, from that day," John said in a breath of a whisper.

"That's not possible Doctor."

"Well then someone did a bloody good job reproducing it, down to the blood splatters." John took a quick inhalation through his nose to calm the storm he could feel fighting its way up. "The bastard took my cross as well, Mycroft."

John could hear that Mycroft had covered the phone on his end with his hand trying to muffle the conversation he was having with whoever was in the room with him. There was a short pause before Mycroft directed his attention back on to John.

"There is a car out front for you. I suggest you make your way down and please bring the box and its contents along as well. I will see you presently."

"I can't, I have to go and check on Mary. I haven't been there yet today."

"I can assure you, Dr. Morstan is resting comfortably and will not be cognizant of your absence. Get into the car Dr. Watson."

John walked into to Mycroft's office with a sense of profound apprehension. Nothing good had ever come from him being in this room. The memories of that hateful recording began to overtake him. He could still hear the shake in HIS voice as HE spoke John's name to Moriarty. Even after all this time and the revelation of the nature of John's feelings for his best friend, he was still surprised at how deep his grief ran. Time does not heal all things; it just gives you more camouflage to cover up the pain. John carried the cedar box in his hands.

"Hello Doctor."

"Stop being such a snobbish git and just call me John. You use to call me John when She… Just go back to John." John took a seat in front of Mycroft and placed the box on the desk that was between them.

"Did you touch anything?" Mycroft asked, his tone patronizing.

"I've had gloves on the entire time Mycroft. I'm not an idiot, and I didn't touch the scarf at all."

Something intensely ugly was lurking in Mycroft's face, just under the indifferent façade. John hadn't thought much about how this might be affecting the only surviving Holmes. Mycroft obtained a set of gloves of his own and opened the box; he hesitated slightly before pulling the blue plaid scarf from the velvet lined box. John stomach clenched again at the sight of the scarf splattered with blood.

"This isn't possible," Mycroft said under his breath.

"You keep saying that Mycroft, but there it is."

Mycroft came around the desk and rested back against it. His shoulders were slumped forward and he was clasping the scarf in his hands. John could see the man's knuckles turning white. John had never seen Mycroft show this much emotion. Even after the death of this brother. Something was very wrong here.

"John… I…" Mycroft's voice actually broke and John saw a tear roll down the man's nose. John was so shocked it overtook his anger for a moment. John had felt more emotion in the last twelve hours then he had in the last three years. He was exhausted, but he felt more alive than he had since he lost HIM. John could feel the adrenaline in his blood, which only came when there was a mystery to be solved. Yes, he would be doing this one on his own for the first time, but he felt closer to HIM for it. The fact that someone had thought to use HIS memory for bait made John want to apprehend them all the more, but if he was being honest with himself he knew this wouldn't end in an arrest, it would end with John having blood on his hands, and he was just fine with that.

The moment stretched on with Mycroft slowly trying to collect himself and John trying to give him the proverbial space to do so.

"You must forgive me John, this is not the time for this." John was about to ask what the right time would look like if not this, but kept his mouth shut. "John, I fear you are in terrible danger, I underestimated this situation and I am sorry. I thought when I hadn't heard from him he must have just been…" Mycroft's eyes shot up to John's for a moment and then squeezed shut as he quickly pushed himself off the desk and walked over to the window.

"Heard from who Mycroft? What's going on?"

"Just one of my field agents John, I have a man working on uncovering the rest of Moriarty organization. "

"So this is connected to that bastard… Even dead he's still fucking with us." John took a steadying breath. " So what does this field agent have to do with me Mycroft?"

"Nothing John, I'm sorry I mentioned that. I was distracted, too many thoughts at once. John, I am sorry, but I fear you must go and say your final goodbyes to your wife. I need to get you somewhere safe and it's too dangerous to move her as well…'

"Jesus! Is Mary in danger? I won't just leave her, Mycroft. I can't do that. I promised to be there at the…end. I won't run from danger. I never have and I never will."

"John, we both know Dr. Morstan has a week at best, I can put an agent with her at all times, but I doubt she's in danger…" Mycroft had long since stopped trying to hide from John how far his reach could stretch.

John had heard enough and began to move to the door. With his back to Mycroft he spoke in a deep, commanding voice.

"If you can put a sentry on her you can put one on me as well. I'll be at the hospital. I expect a file to be delivered to me there with everything you know about what's going on Mycroft."

"John…" John turned back to glare at Mycroft.

"No Mycroft, you are not playing me for a fool this time. I am going to go and spend what time my wife has left with her and then you and I are going to go after whoever is targeting me. Do you understand me?"

Mycroft blinked twice and then let his features slide back into the bored expression John was used to seeing him wear.

"Yes John, I understand."

With a quick about face, John stalked from the room.

Mycroft looked out of the window once more.

"What mess have you got into now?" he mused out loud.