AGAIN! Lots of apologies for not posting...My university had a bomb threat last week and we had to reschedule all of my tests on that Friday to this week, so I've been studying like crazy. Anyways, here's an extra long post for all you lovely fans. Remember, reviews and follows are like a big hug to me, so please! Also..there should be some...ahem...naughtiness coming up soon...not in this chapter...but soon...I promise... ;)

Love,

AraneLuna

"Of course I remember you. Why would I forget my lover?" John sobered instantly. "Sherlock...we've never slept together."
"No?"
"No. No we haven't."
"So...we're not together?"
"I dunno, Sherlock. I think we agreed we wanted to be, but then you sort of blacked out," John explained. "But we've never had sex, if that's what you're asking."
"Oh," he looked up.
"What is it?" John asked with a frown.
"I'm confused."
"Why are you confused?"
"We're together...but we're...not?"
"We live together, we love each other, but we only admitted that to each other about an hour ago. We've not exactly had time to act on it." He ran his hand through Sherlock's hair.
"Oh...so...mine?" He touched John's chest, looking up at him with the innocence of a child.
"Yes. It's yours. It's all yours, Sherlock," John said gently. He linked their hands, putting John's over his heart. "Yours."
"Mine," John murmured, brushing his thumb over Sherlock's heart. He smiled softly and rested his head on John's shoulder. John leaned down, kissing Sherlock's curls, and rested his head on Sherlock's. "Thank you," he whispered into the wool, wrapping an arm around his chest."You're welcome," John murmured. He nodded, hugging him.

Greg motioned for Mycroft to join him in the hall. "What is it?" Mycroft asked, frowning. He looked pointedly at John and Sherlock then the door. Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Sherlock I'm going to try to find you some chocolate pudding," he said gently. "I promise I'll be back."
"Thank you, Myc," Sherlock mumbled, holding onto John. Greg left the room.
"What?" Mycroft glared, closing the door behind him.
"What? I just thought we should give them space."
"My brother is stuck somewhere between 2007 and the present and you want to give them space?"
"Let John help him. He needs John right now, someone to prove to him that he's lovable."
"I love him," Mycroft said firmly.
"Romantically, Mycroft. As you said, he's stuck after that bastard beat him nearly to death and left him, so he needs John to prove he can be loved romantically." Mycroft sighed. "I know," he said quietly. "I just worry about him."He pulled his fiance into his arms and held him. "I know you do, so do I."
"You didn't see what he was like as a child. He was always so different," Mycroft said against Greg's shoulder. "I had to take care of him."
"And you've done your best to help him, but now...you've got to let John in. You can't shelter Sherlock forever."
"I let Sam in and look what happened there," Mycroft said bitterly.
"John is not Sam. John would never raise a hand against Sherlock, you know that."
"I know," Mycroft murmured. "I can't help him, Gregory. For the first time, I can't help him." He petted his hair soothingly. "It was going to happen eventually."
"No it wasn't. I've helped him through everything."
"Myc. You've not failed him."
"Then why do I feel like I have, Gregory?"
"Because you want to be the one in there holding him and comforting him, but you feel rejected because he wants John." Mycroft tensed in Greg's arms. That was exactly it.
"Myc, Sherlock knows you love him and will always be there...but...Christ, never thought I'd say this, but he's gotta leave the nest. Mama Mycroft's gotta let go."
"If you ever call me that again I will make it very public that you enjoy bottoming as much as topping," Mycroft said lowly. He chuckled, "Okay, okay, point taken."
Mycroft relaxed marginally. "I understand what you're saying. I just don't appreciate the way you said it."
"Sorry...it was something my sister used to tell my mother whenever she tried to go on dates."
"Well, don't say it again. I'm not Sherlock's mother. I'm his big brother. Very big difference in our family. I actually care about him."
"I'm sorry, Myc...I didn't mean to offend..."
"I know you didn't, Gregory. My brother and I have had to look out for each other. Of course, he needed more looking out for than I did."
"And it's a full-time job. I know. But...it's time to let someone else help...you can't handle the part of him that needs...companionship...romance...love..."
Mycroft sighed. "I know I can't. And if I had to choose one person for him, it would be John Watson. That's why I asked him the first time we met if he would spy on Sherlock. I needed to know he could be trusted."
"He said no, didn't he?"
"Of course he said no," Mycroft smiled.
"John Watson is a good man, the kind of man Sherlock needs. Stable, but someone who can reign him in if he's out of line."
"I know he is. He's been able to put up with Sherlock for this long. Gregory...what did he mean? He said you know how bad he got."
"What?" He furrowed his brow.
"Before Sherlock retreated into his memory, John said something about the time during Sherlock's absence. He said you knew just how bad he was. What did he mean?" Mycroft asked, staring at Greg. He froze a bit, remembering, then shook his head.
"Gregory?" Mycroft asked softly, cupping Greg's cheek. "What is it?"
"I promised John."
"Please? John would never know. I would never let on that I know."
"I can't, Mycroft. I promised." Mycroft nodded. "You know I'm just going to ask him later, right?"
He sighed. "Don't ask in front of Sherlock...he's already been upset by all this enough, all right?"
"I wouldn't do that to either of them," Mycroft assured him.
"Thank you...and keep in mind, he probably won't answer." Mycroft frowned. "You know this is infuriating, right?"
"John's a private man and I respect that."
"I respect that too, but I also need to know he's going to be alright around my brother."
"It was medical."
"Medical?" Mycroft asked, confused.
"Yes. And that is all I'm saying." Mycroft sighed. "I will ask him later."
"I never said you couldn't, Myc, just be prepared for him not wanting to tell you."
"Can we go back in now?" Mycroft asked impatiently.
"Let's go find his pudding first."
"Right. I did promise him that." Greg took his hand and started to go down the hall.
"I think I saw a cafeteria on the ground floor," Mycroft said, leading them toward a lift. He followed, getting in the lift.

Sherlock played with a loose thread on John's woolen jumper.
"You really don't like the jumpers?" John asked, running his fingers through Sherlock's hair.
"I do like the jumpers...you just have a lot of them...but...you wouldn't be you without them." John smiled gently. "They're comfortable. And comforting." Sherlock nodded, rubbing his cheek against it.
"What else do you remember?" John asked gently.
"You killed a man for me...barely knowing me a day."
"He wasn't a very nice man. And he would have killed you."
"You've been protecting me since we met..." John's arms tightened around Sherlock. "Yes," he said quietly. "At least I've tried to."
"Even from myself."
"You don't take good care of yourself. Someone has to make sure you eat." He mumbled something about limits into John's jumper.
"And I know them better than you do."
"How can you know my limits better than me?"
"Because you constantly try to push your limits. I don't let you." He listened to the soft thumps of John's heart.
"Do you remember anything else?"
"I..." he shut his mouth, not wanting to say it.
"Sherlock," John said gently. "You can tell me."
"I remember jumping." John's eyes closed. "I remember that too."
"I'm sorry."
"I know you are. I never blamed you for it. It was never what you wanted to do. It was just necessary."
"I hurt you..."
"Yeah, but I forgave you for that quite a while ago." He buried his face in his jumper.
"I couldn't be," John said quietly. "You saved my life. But I did miss you." He nodded in agreement. John held him close. "What else? Do you remember coming back?"
"Vaguely."
"What do you remember about it?"
"Stumbling in...and...a punch in the gut...then...arms."
"Yeah. I hit you. Then I hugged you. I missed you."
"It...hurt..." John winced. "I spent the next hour examining you. But I'm sorry I hurt you." He shrugged.
"Anything...else? Anything about us?" John asked.
"You said you...love me." John smiled. "Do you remember when I said that?"
"Today."
"Do you remember what happened after?" John asked, hoping to spark his memory.
"I...it's black..."
"After the black," John clarified. He didn't want to remind Sherlock that he had died.
"I...I said I love you too?"
"Do you remember that or are you guessing?"
"I can't remember past the black."
"It's okay. Maybe it'll come back. Do you remember everything before the black?" He nodded. John sighed in relief. "So you know who I am. Not just the basic details. You remember our life?" He nodded again. "All the running, the cases...Moriarty..."
"Good." He held Sherlock against his chest. "Good. You scared me." He buried his face in John's jumper, listening and breathing in his scent.
"You thought it was 2007 again," John explained, his fingers running through Sherlock's curls.
"Not...please don't...don't mention it..." John nodded, pressing a kiss to Sherlock's head. "I won't. I never will again."
"Thank you," he fisted his hand in John's jumper like a small child.
"It's common courtesy. It hurts you, therefore I won't talk about it." His arms tightened marginally around Sherlock, holding him protectively. He closed his eyes, listening.
"So you remember before the black. Mycroft and Greg have gone to get you pudding. I think you're doing well, all things considered."
"Mmm...chocolate?" John smiled. "Yes. Chocolate."
"Good...I like chocolate."
"I know. You told me it reminded you of summers at the lake house."
"Mmm...we should go there." John ran his hand up and down Sherlock's side. "Yes we should."
"The peace would be nice..." he yawned.
"Figured it'd be too quiet for you. Not enough mystery."
"I need quiet too.." John swallowed, his heart twinging a bit. "I know. I know, Sherlock." He yawned again, snuggling into him like a cat.
"Here," John said gently. He eased Sherlock back then toed off his shoes, swinging his legs onto the bed and lay on his side beside Sherlock. He snuggled back after John had moved them.
"Do you want to sleep?" he asked quietly.
"I want you to stay..." he looked up imploringly. "Please?"
"Sherlock, I'm not leaving," John assured him. "I won't leave, even if you want to sleep."
"Good..." he yawned again, snuggling close, closing his eyes, seeming so innocent. John kept running his hand soothingly through Sherlock's hair, watching him. He looked years younger. It almost hurt how young and exposed he looked.
"I love you, John," he said sleepily. John leaned forward, gently kissing Sherlock. "I love you too, Sherlock." He blinked at the kiss. John frowned. "Sorry, not good?"
"Just...no one's..." he flushed.
"No one's what, Sherlock? You've had partners. Certainly you've...been kissed before, right?" He shook his head. John held him close, rubbing soothing circles on his back. "That's what happened, then. I scared you. Earlier. Before the hospital. I kissed you and you ran. I thought...I thought you'd had one before."
"I...no one had...no one wanted to..."
"Well I did. I love you, Sherlock. And I wanted to show it."
"And...that's how people show it?" John shrugged. "It's one way. Physical affection is just an extension of emotional affection." He leaned up and kissed him back. John smiled against Sherlock's lips, cupping his cheek. "Thank you," he said quietly. He blinked. "For what?"
"That. Kissing me. You didn't have to. It was good. I just...thank you."
"I did. You said it's how people show love."
"I said one of the ways. You didn't have to. Hugs work. Hand holding. Just...touching." He snuggled closer, putting an arm across John's waist. "This okay?" John smiled. "This is very okay." He smiled back.
John rubbed his hand across Sherlock's arm, laying his head on Sherlock's shoulder. He snuggled into John, closing his eyes.
"If you sleep, I'll be here when you wake up," John said gently.
"Thank you..." he yawned and slipped off. John watched Sherlock sleep. He looked years younger and wonderfully peaceful. He didn't dream, just slept peacefully, snuggling into the warmth that was John. The smaller man held him protectively as he slept, keeping a close eye on him. His fists tightened and loosened in John's jumper as he slept. John pressed a kiss to Sherlock's forehead, watching the door.
Greg slipped inside with the pudding. "How's he doing?"
"Progress," John said with a smile. "He remembers everything up to the minute he...umm...everything went black."
"Ah..." Greg looked down at him. "Hard to believe he's the same one who gives us so much crap every day." John looked up at him. "He doesn't give me crap...not as often as he does you." He shrugged. "It keeps him off the drugs and gives him something constructive to do."
John's arms tightened protectively around Sherlock. "What was he like, Greg?"
"He..." he scrubbed a hand through his hair. "He did drugs...I thought you knew that." John nodded. "I did. But what was he like?"
"...Manic. Couldn't focus on anything...but...he needed it...he..." Greg paused, unsure if he should say anything about it. John looked down at Sherlock. "He's still manic," he smiled.
"Yeah..." he let the subject drop.
"Are you and Mycroft really getting married, then?" John asked, changing the topic. He nodded, blushing.
"What do the girls think about him?" John asked, smiling.
"They've always loved Mycroft."
"Good then. I'm glad you two have each other."
"Yeah...and I'm glad Sherlock has someone like you."
"He's special," John said fondly.
"He is...and he needs someone to make sure he knows that."
"I love him, Greg. Very much."
"Love you too, John," Sherlock mumbled, half-asleep. John leaned down and kissed Sherlock's head. "Yeah you." He made an odd purring sound. John rubbed his hand over Sherlock's arm. He snuggled into John's chest.
"He's almost adorable."
"M'not adorable."
"Yeah you are," John said gently. "No."
John smiled. "Alright love. You're not adorable." He snuggled into John, yawning.
"Greg brought pudding. Or are you going to sleep some more?"
"Pudding?"
"Yeah. Chocolate pudding." He looked over at Greg and mouthed "Where's Mycroft?"
"He had some work to handle," he mouthed back. Sherlock hummed happily.
"Work?" John mouthed. He turned to Sherlock. "Pudding or sleep?" Greg nodded.
"Can't decide...both tempting..." John frowned. Mycroft had been nothing but eager to get back to Sherlock. He nodded. "Just take your time, Sherlock."
The curly haired man nodded, yawning.
Greg leaned against the wall.
"Where is he really?" John mouthed, staring at Greg.
"He's...talking to a doctor."
"About what?"
"...Possibly getting Sherlock some medication."
"Medication?" John asked, raising an eyebrow. He nodded.
"No," John mouthed. "John..."
"I'm his doctor. No." Sherlock slipped back into sleep. "John...it'll help him."
"You don't know that. Some things take more than just a pill to overcome."
"The doctor says it will help with the blackouts and the memories resurfacing." John stilled. "It'll help with the blackouts?" He nodded.
"We'll see."
"John...Mycroft is his family and he has the right to act in the interest of Sherlock's health." John glared. "I'm his doctor. And his...something."
"John. They'll only listen to you if you...were...I dunno, his husband. But he's being treated here and Mycroft...calls the shots." John glared. "Sit with him. I need to talk to Mycroft." Greg sighed.
"Stay with him Greg," John said, standing. He moved and sat on the edge of the bed. John closed the door behind him as he left. "Mycroft Holmes I need to speak with you," he said harshly. Mycroft nodded to the doctor, then looked at John. "Yes?"
"You didn't even consult me! I'm his doctor! I'm his..." Fuck. He didn't even know what they were.
"John. It is in his best interest."
"How the hell would you know? I live with him! I interact with him on a daily basis!"
"This is going to help him! I thought you would be all for that!"
"How do you know it will help him? Pills don't fix everything!"
"Well, the only other option I have is to put him away! Would you like that?"
"No it isn't! And there's no way in hell I'm letting you put him away. He needs counseling, Mycroft!"
"He won't go! I've tried! He jumped out a window to get away!"
"He didn't have me! And probably the therapist was just like you. A pompous little arse who doesn't put up with Sherlock's shit! I can look after him! I can get him to go!" John raged.
"And what happens if you're not there! Who will take care of him then!?"
"Why wouldn't I be there?! Where the hell do you think I'm going to go?!" Mycroft was quiet, then looked at him. "I've entrusted him to the wrong people before, John."
"I'm not leaving him Mycroft. It nearly killed me when he left me."
"I know you wouldn't do it willingly."
"I don't think you get it, Mycroft. There is no scenario in which I leave Sherlock."
"Dead?" John sighed. "That's the only way. And I doubt even you could save him then."
"John. I'm trying to act within the best interests of my brother."
"And so am I. Mycroft, I know you're doing what you think is best but I'm a doctor. His doctor," Join said gently. "I know what's best for him. And he doesn't need medicine. Not pills anyway."
"Fine. But you'll see how hard it is to get him to go and cooperate."
"We're on the same side, Mycroft. I love him as much as you do."
"I...I want him safe and sound."
"I know you do. I do too."
"Protect him..." John put a hand on Mycroft's shoulder. "With my life. You're his big brother and I get that. But I love him too." He touched his hand. "Thank you."
"You're welcome. I would have jumped for him if I could have."
"Please...don't talk like that in front of him. You're all he had to focus himself with."
"I won't. Not in front of him. But you deserve to know."
"Thank you. I...I'm sorry for all this..." the politician sighed.
"I know you are. I know you have questions about the time during Sherlock's death," John said, swallowing.
"Only out of concern."
"We should take a walk. Fancy a coffee?" John asked. "It's kind of a bit personal. I don't want anyone overhearing."
"Gregory can watch Sherlock, I think," he motioned for John to go ahead of him.
"You knew, didn't you? About Sherlock. That he was alive," John said, walking down the hall beside Mycroft.
"I was involved in hiding him. He...contacted me after Miss Hooper hid him and asked for my help." John nodded. "I figured as much. How often did you look in on me? And don't...don't lie and say you didn't."
"As often as Sherlock asked."
"How often?" John pressed.
"Once a week or so?" John laughed wryly. "Don't know how you missed it then."
"John...Gregory won't tell me."
"He's a good friend. Knew I could trust him. Why do you want to know so badly?"
"Out of concern. You're important to Sherlock, so important to me."
"And if I don't want to tell you?" John asked.
"John. I will eventually know. I'm giving you the chance to tell me."
"Is that a threat?" John asked coldly. "No...I'm not threatening you at all, Dr. Watson."
"Then how will you 'eventually know' if I refuse to tell you?"
"You really underestimate me, don't you?"
"No. I just refuse to be bullied by you."
"I'm not bullying you." John laughed humourlessly. "And now you're just lying to me."
"I'm not bullying you, John. I'm trying to help."
"Help what? Satisfy your curiosity? I see no reason to tell you."
"Dammit, John! I...is it so bad for me to know? You've got my fiance keeping it from me!"
"Because I asked him to! It's not something I like remembering. He agreed as my friend, not your fiance."
"John...if you need help, I...I want to help...I know we've had our differences over Sherlock in the past..." Mycroft was almost pleading. John rolled his eyes. "I don't need help, Mycroft. I'm fine now. I promise."
"Would you tell me if you weren't?"
"You want to know? You really want to know what Greg wouldn't tell you? Fine. I tried to kill myself while Sherlock was gone. There. Happy?" John asked, glaring. Mycroft froze. "John."
"What?" John snapped. "I...I'm sorry." John shrugged. "It was stupid of my therapist to give me sleeping pills when I was clearly depressed." Mycroft shifted then did something he wouldn't normally do, he stepped forward and pulled John into his arms awkwardly, hugging him. John blinked, patting Myroft on the back. "Umm, thanks?"
"You're family, John Watson." John's mouth quirked into a smile. "Thanks, Mycroft." He relaxed slightly. Mycroft nodded, holding him for a little bit. "You're important to us."
"I like to think I am."
"You are. You're important to Sherlock...and you're like a brother to me."
"Please then, Mycroft, don't make him take the medication," John said, his tone slightly pleading. "I can take care of him. I know you worry about us...but I really can take care of him. And if anything happened to either of us, quite frankly you'd lose us both."
"I...I couldn't handle that...please don't say that."
"I won't again, but I felt like you needed to know."
"John..." he swallowed. John sighed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. It's just...I've lost him twice. I can't lose him a third time."
"I...I know...I would probably do the same if I lost Gregory."
"Why do you call him Gregory? Instead of Greg?" John asked, curious.
"It...feels right. Everyone else calls him Greg, even his family...but only I get to call him Gregory." John smiled. "I understand."
"I love him," he said simply. "I can definitely understand that feeling. I feel the same about Sherlock," the good doctor nodded in agreement.
"Good...which is why I worry about you too. Because...if anything happened to you, Sherlock would never survive it."
"I know. But I survive. It's what I do. Even...even when he doesn't," John sighed.
"That's the soldier talking."
"Probably. But it works," he shrugged.
"John. Take care of yourself too."
"I try, Mycroft. It doesn't always work, but I've got to be here for Sherlock, so I have to be okay."
"Please," he nodded. John sighed. "I really am fine, Mycroft. He's back now. The only thing I wanted when he was away was for him to be back. Or for me to be with him. And now that I've got both, there's no need for me not to be okay." The elder Holmes nodded, letting him go.
"I promise, Mycroft. I'm okay now. I can take care of him."
"Fine...I'll...cancel the medication..." John relaxed visibly. "Thank you. This isn't something medicine can heal. At least not pills. He has to face this head on. Confront it."
"Even...even if he...blacks out again?" John sighed. "If it doesn't work, we can try the medication."
"I just...I hope you know what you're doing."
"I'm a doctor. And even doctors agree that pills don't solve everything. He has to come to terms with this."
"John...he's spent the last ten years trying to come to terms with this. His method is to lock it up in his mind palace and forget it."
"He's used drugs and avoidance to cope," John said gently. "I know what I'm doing."
"Thank you," Mycroft squeezed his arm. "You're welcome. We should probably get back. I don't want him worrying. His brother and his...shit, Mycroft what am I to him?"
"The love of his life." John smiled lightly. "Well, that's not exactly a term I can use in daily conversation. We're not exactly partners. Or boyfriends. Or lovers."
"That's what he called you."
"Which one?"
"The love of his life. He said he was only sorry he didn't realise it sooner." John's face softened. "I am too. I mean...sorry I didn't realise it."
"Hindsight is 20/20, John."
"I know. I have him now, though."
"Then we should get back to him." John nodded, walking back the way they had came. "What term did you use before you two got engaged?"
"He was my Gregory. We didn't need terms."
"Yes but when you introduced him, you didn't just call him your Gregory, did you?"
"Gregory insisted on partners for public introductions." John nodded. "I think partners would work well for Sherlock and I."
"In every sense of the word, yes."
"I think we've been partners for a long time. We just haven't realised it."
"I'm proud to call you family."
"Do you see now why I can honestly tell Sarah that Sherlock's family? Because he is. You all are." Mycroft smiled softly. "I knew you were a good man when I met you."
"Why? Because I refused to spy on Sherlock for money?" John asked, laughing slightly. "Precisely. Lesser men than you have."
"I couldn't do that. Not to him. It didn't take much for me to trust him. You were right even then."
"And then I knew I could trust you. Not even a day and you wouldn't spy on him and little after that you shot a man for him."
"He wasn't a very good man. It was his life or Sherlock's. There really wasn't any choice to be made."
"You've been protecting him since you met. I have no doubts you would do anything for him."
"I really would. I told you. I would have jumped for him."
"I'm glad you didn't."
"How bad would it have been? If our places had been reversed? Mine and Sherlock's." John asked.
"He would have fallen apart," he said simply. "Worse than I did?" John asked, his eyes narrowing. "There would be no Sherlock." John nodded grimly. "I see." They reached Sherlock's room and he nodded again, signalling the conversation was over. Mycroft nodded in agreement and opened the door.
"Where have you two been?" Greg asked, looking up from the bed.
"Talking, dear," Mycroft said, kissing him on the cheek. Sherlock looked up from his pudding cup and smiled. Greg quirked an eyebrow, a silent question. Did he tell you? Mycroft silently nodded. Greg blinked, surprised.
John moved over to the bed. "I see you eventually chose the pudding?" he asked, smiling. Sherlock grinned. "Want some?" he offered the spoon to John.
"No thanks, love. I prefer tapioca," John said, rubbing Sherlock's arm. Sherlock made a face at him, but snuggled into him anyway.
"Did you have a good nap?" John asked, holding him in the crook of his arm. He nodded, licking the spoon clean. John smiled. Sherlock was almost childlike. He reminded himself just how vulnerable Sherlock was and his arms tightened subconsciously. Sherlock noticed John's tension and looked at him oddly.
"Nothing," John said with a slight smile. He pressed a kiss to Sherlock's cheek. He accepted the kiss and snuggled against Johns side.
"How are you feeling?" John asked.
"Better," he smiled.
"Good. Have you remembered anything else?" John asked carefully. He shook his head.
"That's okay," John said gently.
"Is it?" he looked at him with the spoon in his mouth.
"Yeah. It hasn't been that long. Sometimes it takes people days to recover what they lost. And you didn't lose that much." John rubbed Sherlock's arm reassuringly. He nodded, leaning on John. John ran a hand through Sherlock's curls. He arched into the hand, purring slightly.