John has woken up sometime in the afternoon.

On the floor.

Next to Sherlock.

Like really close, the lanky Detective was sprawled over John's chest, he was quite a useful blanket.

The ex- soldier took his time to wake, stretching and growling in painful pleasure as his stiff muscles loosened. He sighed heavily and glanced down at the curly head that lay contently on his chest, a smile tugged at his lips, feeling glad his friend had an uninterrupted sleep.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a man clearing his throat.

The Doctor turned his head to look behind him and met Mycroft's unwavering gaze.

"Sleep well?" Mycroft mused.

"How the hell did you get in?!" John whispered, not wanting to wake his friend who had begun to snore softly.

Mycroft lifted an eyebrow.

John cursed to himself, why did he even bother asking the British government how he had opened a door to a cheap flat.

"Slept wonderfully, thanks for asking." John remained rooted to the floor.

"I didn't mean to interrupt your post-foreplay nap."

"Fore-play? Oh no! This is not what it looks like! We were tickling each other. Oh God! Not like that! I mean we- I- I am not Gay!" John stuttered and felt his cheeks grow hot.

"Of course you're not." Mycroft held back a smirk.

The younger Holmes stirred on John's chest before burying his head into the crook of John's neck.

John's face lit up brighter than the sun.

"Ehrm, Sherlock, we, have a guest. Get up." The Doctor nervously poked the Detective to wake him.

The Detective refused to move but spoke into John's neck. "Who is it?" His hot breath tickled John who turned more and more red.

"Your Brother."

At first not comprehending what has been said, the Detective remained still.

Then he was on his feet and nose to nose with his elder Brother, glaring down.

"Don't you knock?" He bared his teeth at Mycroft who smiled wryly up to his disheveled brother.

The smile faded from the elder's face when he caught sight of the scars his Brother donned.

"My God, what happened?" The elder Holmes tentatively reached for his brother's cheek, tracing the scars with his thumb.

"Nightmare." Sherlock swallowed back his humiliation.

Mycroft simply shook his head and turned his attention to John, who was on his feet rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"I need to speak with you, privately."

John blinked, confused, what did Mycroft want with him? The elder always considered John as Sherlock's pet, what was the sudden interest?

When neither man budged Mycroft glared at Sherlock, who after returning the gaze gave up and with a huff stalked towards his room and closed the door.

"Come with me." Mycroft began to the door and paused, waiting for John to follow.

The Doctor glared down at his clothes, wrinkled and disheveled from being slept in, he hadn't changed out of his day clothes when they had returned from last night.

Mycroft smiled and sighed, "Don't worry, you are just coming for a ride, no need to look nice."

John threw his coat over his shoulders and yawned trudging down the stairs after Mycroft.

After all, he didn't need to look pretty for the British Government.

They stepped into one of the ever-present sleek black cars and drove off quickly from Baker street.

"I wanted to show you something, I think will be of great interest to you." Mycroft watched John carefully, more calculating than his younger brother.

It unnerved the Doctor.

"May I ask where we are going?" John shifted in the hard leather seats, attempting to get comfortable.

"To the place Sherlock was held."

John gaped at the elder Holmes.

"What the Hell for?"

Mycroft grimaced, "Well, not exactly, I am showing you the general area, and then we are heading to a secret station of mine. One of the victims has been found and is being tended to as we speak."

"One of how many?" John felt his stomach drop and flip.

"Unknown." Mycroft leaned his head wearily against the tinted window and sighed. He looked much older than he was; dark circles fell under his eyes. His hair grayed and thinned down by his ears, he had made no effort to hide it or have his hair colored.

Clearly under a lot of stress.

"I am hoping that once you see the victim and possibly talk to her, we might have a chance of getting the rest of them out." Mycroft rubbed his temples.

"Out of what?" John already knew the answer, he just needed confirmation.

"The Prostitution ring," Mycroft winced.

John put a trembling hand to his mouth, swallowing repetitively to hold the little contents of his stomach down.

"That's where Sherlock was? For four –y-years?" John blinked back tears.

Mycroft nodded a fraction.

"Do you know who it was run by?" John took in a shaky breath and calmed himself.

"Moriarty."

John punched the roof with enough force to visibly dent the metal and possibly break a few bones in his hand.

He immediately regretted it and cursed foully while rubbing his knuckles furiously.

Mycroft blinked, completely unfazed, he was obviously used to such out bursts from his Brother.

"Sorry 'bout the roof." The riled up ex-soldier growled.

"I have dozens more." Mycroft waved his apology away.

John had no doubt about that.

They continued the car ride in a mutual silence for two hours.

John, who had been gazing out the window noticed the change in scenery, the neighborhoods became more and more rundown. Less and less people happily walked the streets and more dilapidated apartments glared back at him. The car slowed considerably in front of a particular ominous looking apartment. It towered high above the others with all windows taped up and boarded. Not one car was parked in front and not a sound came from the many rooms.

John could only imagine what went on in those dirty dark rooms.

"This," Mycroft pointed, "Is where we found Sherlock, room 187. He was our top priority; we didn't realize the other rooms were filled. Lestrade will fill you in on the case. John, before we go any further, I need to know if you are with me on this."

Mycroft watched his every movement with a fierce gaze, pressuring an answer from him.

"To get Moriarty?" John pursed his lips as he imagined beating Moriarty to a pulp and then strangling him with his bare hands.

"Once and for all." Mycroft growled with evil grin.

Please review!It gives me motivation!Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed it! ~Lizzie