Despite the disturbing nature of his dreams, for the second morning in a row Sherlock found himself having slept in much later than John. In fact, it was John who ended up waking him, almost at noon.

"Sherlock," John called, stifling a yawn. "C'mon, wake up." He gently shook the small man's shoulder with a thumb and forefinger. Sherlock looked much more fragile this way, asleep and covered in bandages. His angular face seemed more softened in sleep, less harsh.

The tiny man jerked awake, eyes wild, until he realized that it was not the murderous cabbie shaking him, but John.
"What?" He asked, his tone unintentionally sharp.

John sighed; despite his heavy sleep, Sherlock seemed to have suffered from nightmares as well. "It's almost noon," he informed the detective. "If you don't wake up now you won't get any sleep tonight."

Sherlock sighed, letting his head fall back to the pillow. "Fine." he grunted, but didn't bother moving. There wasn't much he could do until John moved him.

John carefully picked up Sherlock, doing his best with the difficult task of not putting pressure on any sore spots. He then ferried him to the kitchen table as usual, where he had left out some tea and toast from breakfast for Sherlock. He himself had already had lunch, and sat back down in his chair to finish his own cuppa.

It had been a long time since Sherlock had last eaten, and his body had been through a lot since then. He forced himself to tuck into the breakfast John had left for him, despite his stomachs protestations. It had gone long enough without food to find the idea of getting reacquainted most unappealing. To distract himself from this, he tried to strike up conversation with his flatmate.
"Has Lestrade called yet?"

"No, I'm sure he's still busy wrapping things up at the Yard," John replied, sipping on his mug of tea. "I expect we'll hear from him soon, though." He looked down at his flatmate, who was attempting bravely to choke down some food. "How are you feeling? I'm sure Lestrade will understand if I just go, you don't have to push yourself to go out if you don't want."

"Absolutely terrible, to answer your first question." Sherlock conceded blithely. The second question needed a little more thought however.
"I... Think it would be prudent if I were to go with you." Unspoken was the thought that there was a rich, human, killer who knew an unspecified amount about him, and he was a little too vulnerable in his current state to deal with that, should his fan know his address. And of course there was always the danger that John would once again be mistaken for him. In that case, Sherlock didn't want to let him out of his sight.

John nodded decisively, feeling much better knowing that Sherlock would be in his care, however hard on him it may be. "Right. In that case I suppose we'll just wait for him to ring." Of course John meant the phone, but at that moment the doorbell sounded, causing both of them to look towards the entryway in surprise. "Who could that be?" John mused. Surely Lestrade hadn't come all the way to Baker Street when he could have just asked them to come to his office.

The same thought had occurred to Sherlock. He tensed up, worried for a moment that his musings on his 'fan' paying them a visit had come to pass.
After a moment, there was a knock on their door, Mrs. Hudson's voice calling to John.
"Mr. Watson, there's a young lady here to see you."

This was even more confusing. John was notoriously bad at talking to women (though he would never admit it) and certainly hadn't had time to date since he was discharged. "Er, right," he called back, looking around aimlessly for a beat before abruptly standing up. "Be there in a tick." With one last befuddled glance at Sherlock he answered the door.

It opened on a very attractive, very preoccupied, very /familiar/ woman.
"Hello again." she greeted, shouldering past John and into the flat, all without looking up from her phone.

"Anthea?" he asked in surprise, closing the door absentmindedly behind her. "What are you doing here?" /And where's your boss?/ was the unspoken question. Sherlock and he had had enough enemies to deal with lately, he didn't need another in his flat.

Sherlock looked up at the woman who entered and groaned. "John, you're ex-military. Was there really /nothing/ you could have done to prevent this?"
"Nice to see you again too." Anthea said, actually providing Sherlock with a quick glance and a smile.

"I couldn't just shut the door on her!" John complained in an exasperated fashion. Inwardly he was relieved that Anthea and Sherlock already seemed to be acquainted; he didn't want Sherlock to throw another fit because more humans had seen him.

"Why ever /not?/" Sherlock shot back, as the woman placed a large purse on the table and unzipped it, seeming infinitely more amused by Sherlock's comments than offended.
"You always were so aggressive, Sherlock." A familiar tiny man stepped out of the purse with all the dignity of one exiting a stretch limo.

John frowned and hovered by the entrance to the kitchen. The mysterious man seemed much more… personal with Sherlock than he had expected. As long as Sherlock didn't seem to be in immediate danger he was content to stand back and observe.

Sherlock adopted a bored, aloof air, which was actually rather difficult to do while swaddled in bandages and still sporting smudges of jam on his fingers from breakfast.
"Oh you know your visits always bring out the best in me."

"Hm," Mycroft replied in a noncommittal sort of way, a corner of his mouth twitching up into an irritated smile. "Don't worry, I can't stay long. I simply promised mummy that I would stop by and make sure you weren't dead after last nights… events." With this he gave Sherlock a cynical, perfunctory glance, seemingly satisfied that despite the injuries he would be fine.
"Wait, who's mummy?" John asked, standing up from where he had been leaning against the wall and taking a step towards them. His brow was furrowed with confusion. Hadn't Mycroft said he was Sherlock's enemy?

"You've been tattling again?" Sherlock asked incredulously, ignoring John altogether.

Mycroft pursed his lips. "Well, I could hardly leave her in the dark, could I? The account was in all of the papers, along with the name of your human." John was a bit miffed by being referred to as 'Sherlock's human' but was too puzzled by the conversation to interrupt. "It's only natural that we should be worried."

Sherlock looked at John sharply. "You didn't think to check the paper this morning." He accused, frustrated that he'd missed that vital bit of news. How exactly had the press gotten John's name? He was going to have quite a lot to say to Lestrade on the matter of his people giving away information they really shouldn't to the press.
"Well," he continued, turning back to Mycroft before John could defend himself. "Not that this hasn't been pleasant, but as you can see I'm alive. Now, don't want to keep you. You do have a government to run."

"Yes, and with the Korean elections coming up I have quite a lot to do," Mycroft said, giving his umbrella a twirl. He turned to smirk conspiratorially at John. "Not that you need to know anything about that." Facing Sherlock once more he gave him a keen look. "Do try to keep yourself a bit more secret. You know how publicity could affect us; /all/ of us." After that he coolly returned to Anthea's purse, disappearing from sight as if he had never existed in the first place.

Anthea picked the purse back up with a smooth, practiced motion. It was fluid, and wouldn't have jostled the man inside at all. Without so much as a goodbye, she exited the flat.

"What on earth was that all about?" John demanded, closing the door behind Anthea and watching out the window as she slipped back into a slick black car. He returned to the kitchen, giving Sherlock a questioning glance.

"Sibling rivalry, I suppose you could call it." Sherlock said offhand. It always put him in a bit of a mood whenever he was forced to deal with Mycroft, but this time he was particularly upset because his brother had made a valid point. Exposure to more and more humans was not just dangerous for him, but for everyone like him. He might have to be more careful in the future. Still, Mycroft's condescending urgings against his latest exhibitionist behavior, to say nothing of his brazenly hinting at his disapproval of his association with John, only served to strengthen his resolve to continue with his current living arrangements.

"You mean…. he's your brother?" the doctor exclaimed, letting the curtain fall again. Well that certainly changed things; not that he liked Mycroft any better now, but at least he wasn't a threat. John walked back to the table and sat down with a huff. "You could have told me that," he said petulantly.

"Well, you didn't ask." Sherlock dismissed.

Just then John's pocket buzzed. He reached into his jeans and pulled out his phone, which had probably been used more in the past three days than in the entire time he had owned it. "Hello?" he said after answering it. "Yeah, of course. We'll be over soon." After that he hung up, slipping his phone back in his pocket and looking over at Sherlock. "That was Lestrade," he explained. "We're expected at the Yard."

Sherlock was already standing, he'd figured it must have been Lestrade. "Right, well, mustn't keep the inspector waiting." He said, a hint of humor in his tone.

"Mr. Holmes?" John said, offering a familiar hand and a trusting smile.

Sherlock smiled wryly. "Doctor Watson." He walked over and literally putting his life in the hands of John Watson. Again. Though much more easily did he do so then he had mere days ago.

When he was once again settled in the man's inner jacket pocket, he piped up again. "Do you think we ought to catch a cab?" He asked, the smile evident in his tone.

"/Absolutely/ not." John answered, shutting the door to their flat behind him.

A/N

And that's it for this story!

Creatorofuniverses and I have already started on the Blind Banker, but we haven't had a chance to get too far yet. Her schedule has changed, and we've yet to hit on a new time slot for our rp sessions. :(

But I hope you enjoyed our first little round robin!
If you've got any feedback for us, good or bad, please leave a comment. We'd love to know what you think, so we can apply it in our next fic.

Thank you so much for reading!
~Ridel~