Friday 7 September

4:04pm

A full day of patients with maladies varying from common colds to sprained wrists and Doctor John Watson was done. The number of pediatric patients had lowered considerably to which the doctor was most grateful. It had been almost a week since the adoption papers had been signed and yet the reality had not overtaken him completely.

It was still difficult to see other people with their children and know that will be him soon enough but for some reason, it did not feel threatening. Feeling Hamish kick his hand? Well that was just biology in play. The bond between father and child was definitely not there.

The first time he had seen the ultrasound he had cried. Now he couldn't remember why. It was probably left over feelings from having lost his best friend a couple weeks prior.

Currently John was limping his way from the clinic to the tube station. His Friday evening route never varied which only served to make him frustrated when he saw the black car pull up beside him. Maybe if he had turned right on the previous street, Mycroft wouldn't have found him so easily but even John knew it would have only taken Mycroft a couple extra seconds to make the adjustment.

When the car stopped, John opened the door and slid inside. As in previous occasions, "Anthea" sat in the back seat typing on her phone as the car pulled away from the curb. John didn't bother acknowledging her since she was hardly ever off her phone.

Soon the car stopped in front of a small fancy restaurant. Had the place been opened, John would have felt the need to dress nicer but since it seemed Mycroft had reserved the entire place, he felt no need to put on airs for him.

Inside the empty restaurant, Mycroft sat at a small round table in the middle of the floor. John walked over to him and took a seat at the only other place setting on the table. It came complete with pasta in a creamy sauce and a glass of wine.

"I believe congratulations are in order," were Mycroft's first words and John knew exactly what he was referring to. Controlling the government, it was no surprise Mycroft already knew about the adoption. To be honest, John was surprised it took him this long to contact him. John lifted his glass and took a drink in acknowledgment of Mycroft's congratulations.

Mycroft let him eat his pasta in peace until he was almost done at which point he slid a piece of paper on the tabletop in John's direction. John put his fork down and picked it up. As he had suspected, the piece of paper was a check. The check was for an amount that John could not have imagined ever seeing in his lifetime.

"This is Sherlock's inheritance?" asked John as he looked at Mycroft. Mr. and Mrs. Holmes must be related to the queen if they have this amount of money to give away.

"That is a majority of Sherlock's and the rest I added from my own income. If you need more – "

"No. Oh god no. This is too much," said John and he slid the check back in Mycroft's direction.

Mycroft cocked an eyebrow and said, "Did you want me to give you a smaller amount? Send it to you in payments?"

"No, nothing like that. Just…keep it. If I need your financial help I will let you know. I'm going to see if I can do it alone. For now, keep your money and when the time comes, you can pay for Hamish's schooling." John paused and looked down at his shaky hands. "I don't want him to have to choose military service because he can't afford his schooling like I did."

There was a silence between them during which Mycroft took back the check on the table and ripped it. "That wasn't the only reason you chose the service," he said as he gave John a look of speculation. "You enjoy action and challenges. The clinic doesn't provide that does it."

"No, I can't say it does. It's been pretty dull." John wondered if he was supposed to return the social cue and ask him how the government was doing. He probably wouldn't have gotten very much.

"Well it's just like I said the first time I met you. Sherlock led you through London's battlefield and it helped you. Now that he's gone, what are you going to do?"

John looked out of the glass doorway in front of them. The London traffic was particularly thick this hour of the day. People passed by keeping their heads bent and talking on the phone. The CCTV cameras watching their every move but as long as they kept their head low, they would not be disturbed. "He's gone and I don't know anymore." John stopped looking out the door and looked to Mycroft. "Why did you do it?"

Of course Mycroft knew what he meant but still he took a minute to choose his words carefully. "I didn't know the full extent of the game – "

"Game? You're just like him. It isn't a game when people's lives are at stake. Sherlock died because you gave Moriarty permission to ruin him."

Mycroft was no longer looking at him. John could see there were many things he wanted to say to him but decided against it all and said, "My brother has very little self preservation. To die by his own hand is the way he would have wanted to go."

"Sure his self preservation was non-existent but I thought he had you to protect him." John went back to looking out of the glass door. "Sherlock was right about something then. You were his archenemy. You were his downfall." Mycroft shifted uncomfortably next to John but didn't say anything. He continued to let John believe what he wanted and made no move to defend himself. "I don't know if I can ever forgive you."

"Does that mean you don't want me around when Hamish is born?" Mycroft asked. His voice was too cold for the emotions contained in what he said.

John thought about not ever having contact with Mycroft and never again feeling the urge to want to punch him but decided not to alienate him. John was never one to make enemies. "No. It just means that when it comes to Sherlock's death, I will forever blame you."

"I blame myself as well." And he looked like he meant it so John made no mention of it again.

John beamed and said, "Have you given thought to what you want to be referred to as? Mycroft? Or Uncle Mycroft?"

John laughed at the look of shock and disgust on Mycroft's face. It would seem he was not the only one dealing with the shock.

When John was done laughing, he bid Mycroft goodbye and stood up to leave. As he was leaving, he saw Mycroft on his phone talking to someone.