"Hello, John," a voice came from behind the tree. John almost jumped and turned around as quickly as he could. What he saw was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a thin-lipped smile on his face and an umbrella in his hand.

"Seems like I'm a bit late to get my brother out of this mess, but I am glad that you could make it," the man remarked.

John only stared at him. "Your… brother?"

"Yes," the stranger smiled, "didn't he tell you about me?"

The former army doctor just shook his head.

"Oh, how terribly impolite of me," the stranger said and held out his hand, "My name is Mycroft, Mycroft Holmes."

"John Watson"

"Oh, I know, John, I know." Mycroft winked at him.

"But HOW do you know?", John asked.

"Oh, I have a MINOR position in the British government, you know. Will help us to clear up the mess my dear brother has put us all in."

"Us?"

"Oh, you wouldn't think I would let them put charges against you, would you?" Mycroft said, "It would be a shameful waste of your precious time. As you seem to have put it on yourself to look after my brother. You will be busy enough with that."

John laughed. "Oh, he can be exhausting sometimes, you are right there."

"Oh, he can be quite something," Mycroft nodded, "That's why I thought maybe a financial... incentive might be in order."

The former army doctor raised an eyebrow. "For looking after your brother."

"Yes, and give me an occasional… update, you might say. On what he's up to, how he is getting on, that sort of thing," the other man explained.

"You want to give me money for spying on your brother?"

"Oh, I wouldn't call it spying..."

"However you call it, I won't do it!", John exclaimed.

"You are very loyal, very quickly," Mycroft remarked.

"Oh, you think so?", John shot back, suddenly angry. Who did this guy think he was? John certainly wasn't HIS little tin soldier! "You don't even know if I will move in with him!"

"Oh, I'm sure you will," Mycroft said confidently.

"What makes you so sure?"

"Give me your hand."

John laughed. "Why should I do that?"

"Just do it, and I will prove it to you," the other man said.

Suddenly serious again, John stretched out his hand for Mycroft to take.

The other man took it in both of his and just held it, softly stroking it. "See?", he asked. "You are quite calm now. Not shaking. You just shot a man and you're not even nervous about it. Maybe about the legal consequences, but for yourself you know very well what's right and what's wrong. All of the adrenaline you feel when you're with my brother, everything you have to do then, you are not afraid of. You're not haunted by the war, John, you miss it. Welcome back."

For a moment, John didn't know what to say or do, but then he pulled his hand back. "Alright," he murmured. Mycroft just smiled down on him. He was scary, in a way, yet John was not afraid of him. Even though this man could be very powerful, the former army doctor had met men like him before. And he wasn't afraid of politicians.

And the existence of Mycroft was strangely comforting. A big brother watching over Sherlock. They probably didn't get on well, different as they were, but still Mycroft was THERE. And then the way he had touched John's hand, the way he had winked at him… John shook his head. He had to see if Sherlock really was alright. So he handed the weapon over to Mycroft and told him goodbye.

And of course the detective was alright. The police, who had arrived while John was busy talking to Mycroft, was oblivious to who might have shot the murderer and Sherlock seemed to find that hilarious. Laughing, they left the crime scene together. Mycroft didn't turn up again, which reinforced John's theory that the brothers' relationship wasn't the best.

When they were back at 221B Baker Street, Mrs. Hudson made them tea. The 'drug's bust' had left and John was optimistic that, with Mycroft's help, there would be no further questions asked as to what happened to the police officer's weapon.

After Mrs. Hudson had left as well, John turned his attention fully on Sherlock. "So you wouldn't actually have taken the pill, would you?"

"No, of course not," the detective answered, but it was clear that his thoughts already were on something else.

John looked at the younger man, who seemed to be lost in his tea, his eyes slightly glassy. "Wow, he's beautiful," he thought. "So about before… it was really nice, you know," John said.

"What was?", Sherlock asked, looking up at him.

"What you did with me… on the phone."

The detective frowned. "I don't know what you are talking about. I have an experiment to work on." With that, he got up and started walking towards the kitchen.

John frowned at his new flat mate's back and got up himself. "I'll go upstairs, then. Need some sleep. Is it alright if I get my stuff tomorrow?"

"Sure," Sherlock said before disappearing into the kitchen.

When John was in his new room, he started thinking that maybe the messages were NOT from Sherlock. But that was impossible, wasn't it? Well, maybe they were from Mycroft. As a high rank government official, it should be easy to find out a mobile phone number. Of course, it would have been pretty pointless for Mycroft to pretend he was Sherlock when he was sexting John. But what if...

John remembered how Mycroft had acted before. He couldn't have been FLIRTING with him, could he? But a man like that… certainly it must be nice to be his boyfriend. Maybe that guy was wealthy. Then there would be expensive presents, dinners at expensive restaurants... It wasn't about the money, of course. Mycroft would be NORMAL and probably quite easy to live with. Not like his eccentric brother. And he was quite polite, what John liked about him. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine Mycroft's hand on his cock.

John whined and opened his eyes. What on earth was that? That had felt weird. Not sexy, definitely not sexy. He sighed. His phone buzzed. John almost shouted: "I WANT TO SLEEP!", but then just picked it up. If it was anything remotely sexy, he would just ignore it.

"Sorry. SH"

John simply stared at that. What was that supposed to mean now? "Married to your work, eh?", he wrote back, more than a bit annoyed.

"I'm not good at… this."

"Being nice, you mean? I save your ass and you pretend whatever happened before didn't happen?"

"Can't we just... go on like this for a bit?"

At first, John had no clue what the detective meant by that, but then it became pretty obvious. "Take it slow, you mean?", he typed.

"Yea that and… the other thing."

John grinned. "So flat mates with benefits, eh?"

"I just don't want to do anything wrong… with you."

The former army doctor frowned at that. This actually sounded sad, not really a laughing matter. Had the detective ever had a relationship? And if so, had it been a painful experience for him?

"Of course. We can take it as slow as you want," he typed back. "But I need regular sexting. ;)"

"Sure you do. ;) But now you need sleep. Maybe morning sexting tomorrow."

"Sounds good. Nightynight."

"Night, my little soldier."

John smiled at that, maybe a bit sheepishly. Then he got ready for bed and was asleep even before his head hit the pillow.