Before Mycroft could start yelling I held up my hand. Steph needed to rest and an angry man yelling right beside her would not help. I walked into the kitchen and the brothers followed me. I knelt down under the sink to get the cleaning products Mrs Hudson had stashed there at some point after dealing with a particularly noxious experiment of Sherlock's. As I began to clean the sink full of vomit I spoke.

"Let her sleep. She needs it, hell, she deserves it. Just let me clean up this mess and then I'm going to go out and get food. You can come with me and I'll explain then, or you can wait here until she wakes up."

"I'll be coming, thank you," Mycroft's sarcastic thanks reminded me so much of Steph in that moment that I got lost in my memories of her. Reminded of the times that I'd seen people hurt her, and her responses. I must not have been concentrating very well because the next thing I knew Sherlock was yelling at me.

"John. John! The sink is clean. If you are conducting an experiment to see how long it will take to scrub your way through a metal sink I can tell you that without the aid of a moderately strong acid it will take approximately 15 months, 76 bottles of that particular brand of cleaning product and 1437 sponges."

I opened my mouth to ask how he knew, but reconsidered. That was probably a conversation that would make me feel even more mortified than I already was. Instead I said, "Come on. Let's go get something to eat."


The weather outside was mild, at least for winter in London it was, which really means it was cold enough to chill you to the bone. After asking Mrs Hudson to check in on Steph, and promising to bring back dinner, the three of us left 221B. We walked down the street to an Italian restaurant that Sherlock had told me was good. I ordered for myself, Steph and Mrs Hudson. Mycroft ordered for himself. Sherlock didn't order anything. I wasn't surprised.

We sat down at a table they had left for customers to wait. Sherlock was looking at me expectantly and Mycroft, well, you know what they say, if looks could kill...

"I served with Steph. In Afghanistan. She got assigned to our team for a few months. She was also the highest ranked officer in our team. Not that she ever ordered us around. She left the commands to Colonel Davies, the officer in charge. We never really worked out exactly why she was assigned to us because we never saw any sign that she actually did anything.

"I think she was with us for longer than she thought she's be. When we first met her she was disguised as a man. If it wasn't for a run-in with someone who had met her before I don't think she would have told us. She was with us for a few months. Steph could deduce, just like you Sherlock, but she was better with people. We were friends. After I was shot she made sure I got the best care available. She almost seemed guilty.

"When she got back she came to see me. It was just before you brought her around, Mycroft. She was worried that her only family didn't care about her and she wanted me to help her. She asked me to be casual when you brought her to 221B. She told me that if you actually noticed her, if you actually cared, one or both of you would realise that we knew each other. When neither of you did it hurt her. And then at the pool when I didn't trust her either I think it was the last straw."

"That does not tell me why you hid her hiding place from me," Mycroft seemed to miss the point of all of what I had said.

"I didn't bloody well know where she was," my anger was not making my voice loud as it usually did. I was quiet, instead, but it only made me sound more furious. "I couldn't find her either! She left without a word because she thought no-one cared about her. Looks like she was right. Everything is about the two of you! I tell you that she didn't think her family cared about her and you get angry because you think I was hiding information from you."

I could have gone on for hours. Luckily the food was ready. I stood and took my order and left the restaurant. Alone.


I left first, so I got home first. I could hear voices upstairs so I knew Steph was awake. As I ascended the stairs I heard Steph say to Mrs Hudson, "Oh, look. John's back with the food!"

I plastered a fake smile on my face as I walked in. "Here you go, Mrs Hudson. Just what the doctor ordered!" She giggled at my poor pun, "Do you think you could give us a minute?"

"Of course. My shows are on now, so I'll just go watch them downstairs."


Steph and I ate in silence. Sherlock turned up half way through our meal but Mycroft never came. Sherlock locked himself in his room and didn't come out. After we finished eating I checked Steph's leg. It seemed okay, but infection could be slow to reveal itself.

"I'm going to watch you tonight, make sure fever doesn't set in."

"It's fine, John. You don't need to stay up and keep a vigil over me."

"Just let me, okay? You scared me when you left and I couldn't find you. Do you know how many people I had looking for you? I couldn't keep up with you! You were all over Europe and the States too if some of the reports are to be believed..."

"John..."

"...and I don't think I can really trust some of the reports. Some of the people are quite shady characters..."

"John..."

"Not so say that I'm not thankful. Any word was better than nothing..."

"JOHN!"

"What?"

"You're rambling."

"I am? Really? Thanks for stopping me. I ramble when I get worried and you really had me worried. I literally had everyone looking for you because you mean so much to me and I don't think I could live without you. You really are my best friend and I..."

She leaned over and put her hand over my mouth, "Rambling again," was her explanation.

I answered with a muffled 'thank you' through her hand. I'm sure it came out more like "famnk ou".

"You're welcome. Now go to bed. I promise I'll still be here in the morning."