John was going mad without being able to look out a window. He was going stark raving mad about it. On the third night without a window, he finally snapped. Once he heard Greg fall asleep, he slipped out his room and sneaked down to the front of the manor. He wouldn't go outside, not right now. He didn't want his wounds to get even worse. Instead, he stood, looking out the large windows that flanked the front doors. He watched the shadows pool around the trees and disappear when lights flashed by.

He heard footsteps behind him, making him tense. "I thought I said no windows." Sherlock's voice rumbled out. John flinched at the his master's voice. He didn't turn around but, kept looking outside. "John Watson, answer your master when he speaks to you." Sherlock snapped out in his icy voice. John sighed.

"I had to. I was going insane without being able to look outside." John told his master, not looking at him. He tensed as he listened to Sherlock step up behind him. a slender hand was set upon his shoulder, making him flinch. The hand was taken away.

"I see." Sherlock muttered, his voice close to John's ear. The consort still didn't look at his master, his blue eyes trained to the tress outside. His master's eyes looked to the beauty outside, trying to see what his consort saw in it. He tilted his head, his blue green eyes narrowing. All he saw was the darkness of shadows pooling under trees. Lights flashed by, destroying the shadows, showing the bark of the tree. Still, he saw nothing worth disobeying a master for. "Why do you disobey me so much for this?" He asked, truly wondering. This consort, this small man was intriguing to him. He disobeyed Sherlock where others would obey to the letter. He didn't sob and beg while he beat his back bloody, aiming to scar him. He barely shied from him, even now, just three days after beating him. He was a strong and strange man.

"Because, if I can see it, I believe one day, I will be free. It is my hope, the thing I cling to. Not even you, can take it from me." John answered, his voice hard. Sherlock snorted. He could take it form him, oh so easily. A trip downstairs would prove that in a few minutes. Absolutely no windows down there, completely sealed off. It would be a last resort for this man though, only he continues to disobey, which he will Sherlock could feel it. John would be forced downstairs one of these days, Sherlock was sure of it.

"Go back to your room before I must punish you more with the whip. No more outside for an extra week." Sherlock said as he walked away. John started to curse Sherlock. "I'll add a week if you keep cursing me." Sherlock sneered, pausing on the steps. John bowed and went to his room. Sherlock continued to his study. On his very fancy desk sat a glass of blood. He smiled and drank the red, syrupy liquid before setting to the paperwork that needed to be done. He picked up his favorite pen and set to work.

By midnight, his eyes were starting to drift open and shut. A growl escaped his lips and he forced himself to stay awake. He set his pen down and spun in his chair to look outside. A sharp wind rattled the branches of his forest, making him wonder if this is what John loved. His phone buzzed in his pocket.

"Holmes, the youngest." He answered, spinning back to his desk.

"Brother dearest." His elder brother, Mycroft purred over the line. "I'm coming to visit home in a few days, I trust you haven't burned it down yet?" Mycroft questioned, Sherlock could hear the sneer in his words.

"All is well here brother." Sherlock assured him, panic settling in his still chest. He hadn't seen Mycroft for a year, ever since he threw plates at his brother's head for trying to seduce Greg. The man was his consort, not his brother's. Mycroft had a slew of consorts at his home outside the city, he made sure of it.

"Good. I'll be there on Saturday." Mycoft informed him, hanging up. Sherlock set his phone down and cursed. He pressed the button on the des and waited. A few minutes past before a knock of four came at the door.

"Enter." He said. Molly stepped into his study, her body bare.

"Yes my Lord?" She asked, bowing to him. Sherlock grinned at her.

"Mycroft is coming to visit." He told her. A gleam entered her eyes.

"This is a problem." She tapped her chin, a curtain of red hair came over the left side of her face. "However will you handle it?" she asked, a sneer on her face as she stepped over to him. Sherlock shrugged.

"Muddle through it, I suppose." His long arms reached out to capture her in them as she drew closer. He pressed his face into her stomach. "But, I don't want to think of Mycroft now, only you." He spoke into her skin, his fingers traveling u p and down her back. Molly purred and sat on his lap.

John woke to Greg, it seemed to be a pattern. "Master is calling for us." Greg told him, tossing some clothes at his face. John dressed and followed his friend down the stairs. Sherlock was standing in front of his army of Bloodlets in the main hall. Greg stood in the back, dragging John with him.

"My brother, Lord Mycroft Holmes will be here on Saturday till I have no idea. I need best behaviors from you all." His eyes caught John's and narrowed. John gulped. One wrong move on Saturday could kill me. "Bloodlets, you are to clean the manor till is sparkles like snow under the sun." He waved a hand, dismissing the Bloodlets. "You two," He pointed a finger at both men,"are to only engage Mycroft when he speaks to you. Nothing else. you, Greg, will only speak to him when I"m present. Got it?" Sherlock commanded. Both bowed and gave verbal conformation. Good. Leave." He waved a hand at them. The two went upstairs to eat. Greg seemed giddy.

"I think you'll like Mycroft, John." Greg told his friend as they ate. John snorted.

"If he's anything like Sherlock, I won't." John retorted.