What was Sherlock thinking, taking on a Chinese smuggling ring all by himself, he could have gotten killed! He almost got Miss Sawyer killed not to mention John. A few heads had rolled when he discovered just what his security team had missed.

Of course his security now said that Sherlock was fine, and John had a slight concussion, but that didn't stop him from going over to Baker Street as soon as his schedule allowed it. He was going to get the entire story from his baby brother, and no matter how much awful violin music he played Mycroft was staying until the stubborn fool talked. He let Anthea back at the office to keep an eye on the situation that was developing overseas.

Knowing that it was probably going to take awhile to get the explanation that he wanted, Mycroft waved his driver off and straightening his jacket he moved to walk to the door of 221B when it opened suddenly and John Watson

"Ah John how are you today?" asked Mycroft as he paused, John having just shut the front door with a little more force than what was necessary.

"Fine" said John, his voice hard as he continued past in a fast march that was in 8 by 5 steps.

Mycroft frowned as he walked the figure briskly walk down the street and turn the corner. From above the sounds of Sherlock playing his violin floated down, the notes dripping with anger and frustration and if Mycroft was not mistaken a twinge of guilt. Praying that whatever Sherlock did was fixable, Mycroft paused to straighten up the knocker before continuing up the stairs. The sound of the violin faded away and the sound of silence greeted Mycroft as he opened to door to see Sherlock was glaring at the coffee table at a clearly broken gold pocket watch. He sighed as he sat in John's chair and reached for the watch to examine it closely. Inside the watch was an inscription, Major Martin Watson, 1942. All thoughts of discussing what happened with the Chinese smuggling ring was back shelfed as he looked at the deliberate pattern of destruction that covered the watch.

"Oh Sherlock" he sighed looking at his brother that refused to look at him.

"A man's alibi depended on it" he said stubbornly.

Mycroft frowned, though it was partially true. Mycroft could tell that his brother was hiding something, from the condition of the watch he could tell it was well loved. And even if Sherlock thought it was beneath him to put value on objects and those who did where idiots he knew better than to destroy something like this. This was a personal deliberate attack against John, against a man that had very little in his life and made this even worse.

"Sherlock how many possessions did John have with him when he moved?" asked Mycroft fingering the gold chain attached to the watch.

"Three boxes," answered Sherlock, cautiously not knowing where this conversation was going. No matter how intelligent he was, how he could deduce the common man his big brother was at times still a cement wall and he could read nothing on his brother's face.

"And I assume most of those were clothes" said Mycroft, he indeed did know by the camera he had placed in the Doctor's room, which didn't last three days before the good Doctor had found it and destroyed it.

"Yes, what of it?" demanded Sherlock. Either Mycroft got to the point, or he was going to grab his violin and drive the fat idiot out.

Seeing that Sherlock's patience was wearing thin, Mycroft decided to get right to the point. "So in Dr. Watson's life he has but a few prized possessions that he has kept throughout his travels, and these pieces must mean a lot to him in order for him to keep a hold of them."

"Sentiment" rumbled Sherlock with slight disdain. And while Mycroft in the past would have agreed with him without a doubt, these past few years had changed Mycroft's mind on many things.

"Indeed brother dear, but some people do get attached to things. Dr. Watson obviously cared for this watch, probably his most prized procession and carried it with him since he came by it. That is probably the only reason he still had it instead of it being sold by his drunk sister for more alcohol. Why would you destroy your friend's most prized possession?"

"John's made it very clear that we are not friends. When I introduced him to Sebastian as my friend, John immediately corrected me, he was my 'colleague'" spat Sherlock and Mycroft knew he had gotten to the root of the problem. He wondered how his brother could be so blind, he had to resist the urge to bop him over his thick skull with his brolly. He had read in the report that Sherlock had been hired by Sebastian Wilkes at the beginning of this whole mess and that lay the problem. He knew what type of man Sebastian was and what type of man John was and even without seeing the interaction knew that the business man would rub the soldier in the wrong way.

"Sherlock did it ever occur to you that the good Doctor didn't want to be paraded around in front of your old school mates. By correcting you he probably was asserting to Sebastian that he was an equal partner, and you brought him along because he was necessary to your work. Not because you wanted to show Sebastian that you had finally found a friend and were showing him off like a brand new toy?"

Sherlock blinked clearly he hadn't thought of that as he reviewed the meeting in his head, remembering how John acted in the bank and his expressions before he guiltily looked at the watch he had destroyed out of spite.

"Apologize to him Sherlock" advised Mycroft softly gathering the pieces of watch as Sherlock retreated into his mind palace. He slipped the pieces into his pocket and saw himself out, he knew that he wouldn't be getting the full story out of Sherlock that day. Instead his mind went to the watch he had wrapped in his hankerchief, Mycroft knew of a little shop in London that he sent his own watches to that might be able to repair it. It would be a shame that a watch that had survived World War II and the Afghanistan just to be destroyed by Sherlock.

Across the street a pair of blank black eyes watched one of the world's most powerful men get into the car that pulled up magically next to him before he even reached the curb. The man was confused he had expected the Ice Man to stay, expected to see the look of irritation and worry to cover that brow from hearing about the little mishap with his smuggling ring. But no what he got instead from his bug was a conversation about a watch and the flatmate that was so beneath his notice that he hadn't even given him a thought in his upcoming game with the consulting detective.

No Moriarty could now see that he had underestimated the short blonde man that followed the lanky detective all over the place like a dog. But it would seem that he might have a place in his new game, the Iceman had shown interest, had tried to make his brother feel empathy to the man. Moriarty would have to find all there was to know about this John Watson, starting off with a picture. He had been too busy thinking that he would soon be out of the picture like Sherlock's other flat mates that he hadn't even bothered to really see what he looked like. But by the end of this day he would have new plans to fit this unexpected windfall into his great game. It was with these thoughts that a manic gleam appeared in the dead eyes and Moriarty strode away whistling a catchy tune about Stayin' Alive.


Sorry for the wait, but I am finding it hard to bridge the gap from point A to C, B does not want to come out. Anyway hope that you enjoyed this chapter.

P.S Thanks for reading Captain Ginger :-P