Clara

They were silent at first, swaying uncomfortably in front of the stare of Mycroft Holmes. The elder Holmes seemed far darker and mysterious than his little brother. He didn't seem like the kind to anger either.

"Mycroft Holmes! Blimey! I never thought I'd get the chance to see Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes, but now we're getting the whole package. Oh, that's right you haven't met me yet I suppose. I show up in your future when your brother and Doctor Watson…well, you don't want to know about that do you. It's all guns, murders, and wibbly wobbly stuff…"

"Doctor, I'm afraid I must stop you. I met you when I was younger. When you finally brought my little brother back to me so battered he was in hospital for days," Mycroft snapped. The Doctor's happy go lucky buzz died instantly and he raised a brow at the older Holmes. Mycroft gritted his teeth together, losing his composure. "After that last little incident with the Slitheen you brought my little brother back covered in someone else's blood! We fixed his wounds up and brought him home, but something was wrong. He isolated himself and wouldn't even talk to me! I put up surveillance video and sent body guards with him just so he would never run into you again, but here he is with you once again! He looks like he was someone's chew toy and here you stand just like before, raving about how exciting everything is! I see where he gets it from every time he's on a case. It's all because of you! You took him from me! You mad him what he is! You…" Mycroft trailed off, running a hand through his hair and taking a few deep breaths. "Never mind. It's not going to do any good shouting now. You are back and Slitheen are trying to capture my little brother once again." Everyone was silent then. Clara could see The Doctor's dark expression in the corner of her eye.

"Right!" The Doctor shouted, turning away and walking over to the fireplace, staring at the photos. "The Slitheen have been trying to get the two pieces of the sonic screw driving holding future Clara's life force. They have one now, but we have the other. If we can get back into the plant and recover it then I can sync the screwdrivers together and return Clara back to her former self. We can then call my older-self using the screwdrivers," The Doctor summed up. Clara's eyes widened.

"You want to go back?! Doctor, it's too dangerous!" Clara cried. The Doctor stared into the fire, light bouncing off his old eyes.

"Nothing is too dangerous when you are trying to save a friend, Clara," he whispered, smiling at her sadly. Clara's shoulders slumped then and her head lowered to her chest. He blamed himself more than anyone else here for everything that has happened. Clara could see it. It wasn't his fault. It was her choice to follow him and it was Sherlock's choice to go off and find him.

"Let's do it," John's voice called from the doorway. Everyone looked up at him to see that he was alone. "But Sherlock must not come with us."

John

Sherlock had fallen asleep shortly after John had finished dressing his wounds and tossing out his tattered clothes. He had then decided to go and make sure Mycroft had not sent The Doctor and Clara away to some alien experimental lab or something. When he got the Doctor was going on about traveling back to the power plant. John didn't think it was a good idea to go back so suddenly either, but he wanted to help. He needed to help Sherlock and Clara. Finding the other screwdriver was the only way.

"How is Sherlock?" Clara asked, fiddling with her fingers nervously. He had looked pretty beaten up back there. She was worried for the poor man. John gave her a reassuring smile.

"He's fine, but he's hiding something from me. He told me he had read your diary, Doctor, out of curiosity and read something. Whatever it is it's bad enough to cause him to think that what happened was his fault. I don't want him coming back with us and getting any more hurt than he already has been." The group nodded, turning to Mycroft, who was still debating whether or not to allow it.

"Please, Mr. Holmes. We need to do this," Clara pleaded. Mycroft looked up at her then, giving a small nod. Clara smiled and turned towards the front door. "Let's find the screwdriver then!" she called, racing from the doorway. The Doctor followed her, but John stayed behind, turning to Mycroft.

"John…" Mycroft trailed off as John pulled a small leather book from behind his back. His eyes widened at the small book. "What are you doing with Sherlock's journal?" Mycroft snapped, furry burning in his eyes. John looked down at the book.

"When Sherlock fell asleep I looked through it, thinking that maybe he had written what he had read in the Doctor's diary down. I was right. I found it right away and he was right that I wouldn't want to know," John croaked, he could feel hot tears burning his eyes. "But that's all going to be alright now because Sherlock won't be coming with us. I gave him enough sleeping pills to keep him out until long after we return," he reassured Mycroft. The elder Holmes held his hand out for the journal and John handed it to him. John then turned away towards the door, but Mycroft grabbed his wrist.

"What did he read in that diary?" Mycroft asked. John lowered his eyes from the elder Holmes' gaze.

"He read about me, Mycroft. It's all about me."