Hannibal knew he should probably intervene. Will was spiralling out of control and, soon, he would be beyond everyone's comfort zones. God knows he was long past his own.

But he seemed so adamant that he could carry on. He was so convinced by his own lies that it had become impossible for him to admit defeat. There was nothing he could do. Or, rather, there was nothing he would do.

'Don't you have minds to be analysing?' a silky voice slipped through the crisp air.

'Not tonight.' Hannibal kept his answers breif. He wished for some kind of secrecy. It gave him a delicious sense of dominance, that he enjoyed far too much.

Sherlock stepped forwards to face him.

'Hello, Doctor Lecter.' Once again, he looked smug. He was like a child who had just learnt a naughty word.

'Mr Holmes.'

'A bit cold, isn't it?'

'I'm sure you won't feel it, that coat of yours.' he nodded towards Sherlock's coat with a snare of disapproval. He looked scandalised. Hannibal enjoyed toying with him so easily.

'So, what's going on with you and Will Graham?'

he asked, with a tone of condescention.

'He's a friend.' Hannibal replied, more unfazed by the question than Sherlock would have hoped. 'You and Doctor Watson?'

Sherlock sighed.

'Hardly original.'

'Then maybe there is an element of truth behind it...' he said, leaving him to react. React he did.

'John and I are partners! You and Will are not even that! Why won't you just admit it?'

Hannibal shrugged.

'Maybe your defensiveness is a symptom of keeping secrets for too long.' Sherlock looked as though he was going to launch into a tyrade. However, with a self-control that astounded Hannibal, he blinked hard and walked away. Doctor Lecter watched him disappear, till all that was left was the wispy clouds his breath had left. What fun it would be to have this man as competition.

Suddenly, his phone buzzed to life.

'Hello?' he said, answering it after a single ring.

'Hi, erm, this is John. John Watson.'

'Oh yes! Sherlock's associate?'

He coughed, 'Erm, yes.'

'And what can I do for you?'

'I...I'd appreciate if you didn't tell Sherlock about this.'

'About what?'

There was a pause.

'Hello?' Hannibal repeated

'Ever since...' he sounded as though he was choking on his tears, 'ever since Sherlock's...accident, I-I've been seeing a therapist.'

There was another pause. Hannibal thought he knew where this was going. His silence urged John to carry on.

'The event stirred up a lot of trauma and, now he's back, I still haven't really adjusted. I have weekly appointments, just to get myself back on track with everything.'

'But...?' Hannibal guessed there'd be a but involved.

'But today isn't my day to see her so she's busy with other patients.'

'What's special about today?' He heard John sigh a heavy sigh on the other end of the phone.

'It's a year since the fall.'

He needn't say any more; it was clear this could be a danger night for poor John. Of course he'd heard about the story of his 'death'. Who hadn't?

'I have no patients scheduled for tonight. You're welcome to come over as soon as I get back. I trust you know where to go?' he asked.

'Yes, thank you. I checked on the Internet.' he realised how that sounded. 'Sorry. I wasn't pre-empting anyth-'

'There's no need to apologise.' Hannibal interrupted, sensing an awkwardness on the horizon. He disliked awkwardness. 'I hope to see you soon.'

'Yes, good, thanks. Good bye.' Hannibal chuckled as an empty tone rang out from his phone.