Anthea raced as quick as she could towards Baker Street. Mycroft's driver had not told her much, except that there had been an explosion on Baker Street and Mycroft had been visiting his brother when it had happened. But he was not answering his phone, and Anthea feared the worst.

Emergency forces were already on the sight of the scene, emergency workers and firefighters were scurrying around the scene trying to contain it. A fire still burned in what was clearly the source of the explosion, the building directly across from 221B.

As Anthea flashed her badge to get past the police barrier, she was immediately scanning the figures, trying to find her tall imposing figure. Feelings that she hadn't felt since Mycroft went missing surged up. What if he wasn't okay? What if Sherlock wasn't okay? John? These questions and more circled around her head. Finally after a few minutes of searching she felt a small amount of relief as she saw a calm John talking to a firefighter. A part of Anthea knew that if something serious had happened to Mycroft or Sherlock that the doctor probably wouldn't be this calm. But she had to hear it for herself. She saw her chance when the firefighter seemed to get all that he needed for John and moved away leaving John alone.

"John!" she called catching his attention before he could walk away, "John what happened?!" demanded Anthea grabbing John's arm.

"Mycroft's fine," John assured her immediately. Seeing Anthea look so worried, so human it made John's protective side come out. He detached her from his arm and took her by the hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "So is Sherlock. We were in the sitting room when the explosion happened, the windows blew but that was the majority of the damage. Besides being a little shaken, neither Mycroft or Sherlock have any injuries that I saw. The officers right now think it was a gas explosion in the building across the way, an accident."

Anthea was immediately suspicious, accidents just didn't happen around the Holmes brothers. Not removing her hand from Johns, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her Blackberry, rapidly sending out texts to have their own investigators work on the cause of the explosion.

John waited patiently as Anthea finished her text messages, slightly impressed at how fast she was able to send multiple messages with only one hand.

"They should be in the kitchen, I haven't seen either come down yet" hedged John.

Anthea flashed him a relieved smile before extracting her hand and heading toward 221B. John held back from following. He didn't want to interrupt anything. It was obvious that Mycroft was the man that Anthea was engaged to.

The first thing Anthea saw when she cleared the stairs was the blown out window in the sitting room. Glass covered the floor, and Anthea sent a quick text to have a cleaning crew come as soon as possible. She began to pick her way across the glass when she heard movement in the kitchen. Coming out of the door, came the shape of Mycroft, drawn out by the sound of movement in the other room.

Anthea didn't care at that moment of their deal in separating their home and office life. As soon as she saw that he was alright, Anthea flew across the room and hugged him, assuring herself that he was alright. Anthea was pleasantly surprised when his arms wrapped around her and clutched as tightly to her as she was to him.

She only moved when she heard a slight noise from Sherlock. Throwing all caution to the wind she released Mycroft and quickly pulled Sherlock into a tight hug. She felt the tall man huff in slight annoyance, but lacked the general heat. Anthea was slightly surprised when Sherlock's arms came up to embrace her for a few moments before wiggling out of her hold.

Anthea allowed it as she turned back to Mycroft, reaching up she cupped his face in her hands. "Are you really alright?" she asked softly.

Mycroft reached up and covered her hands with his own. "I promise love, I'm alright. John made sure that nothing happened to either Sherlock or I."

Anthea laughed softly and leaned forward to rest her head on Mycroft's shoulder. "That man has developed the habit of saving men named Holmes."

Mycroft softly chuckled into her hair. "He is making a habit of it, I really should start paying that man."

"At least a car, a nice car."

Mycroft allowed one more smile to cross his lips before pulling back, the stoic face of the British Government was back in place. Anthea allowed herself to straighten his tie and brush a bit of dust off his suit before pulling back into the role of assistant, her phone in her hands.

"Tell me what you have" said Mycroft.

-2-2-2

John loitered outside the building, giving the three still inside a moment alone. He had already seen to Mrs. Hudson and after making sure she hadn't been injured by the blasts, he had given her a small sedative to help her go back to sleep. John now focused on the efforts of the fireman to put out the fire. They had managed to contain it to the one building and were currently working to quench the flames.

His concentration was broking by the sound of the door opening behind him. He turned to see Sherlock still in his blue dressing gown walking down the few steps to the bottom. His eyes meet John's, those grey eyes cataloged everything. Sherlock didn't stop as he walked past, but his hand reached far enough too slightly brush his fingers against the back of John's hand.

John smiled faintly as he watched the Consulting Detective headed straight towards the Fire Marshal to get any information to be had. John had lived with the man long enough to know it was the smallest gestures that sometimes said the most to Sherlock. The slight touch was a thank-you for what he had did. With Sherlock's appearance, John decided it was safe to go back inside to get a pair of shoes, or at least socks. The London pavement was cold under his feet. John made certain to make some sound as he ascended the stairs, so that the two still in the flat knew he was approaching.

John paused in the doorway at the top of the stairs to look at the damage. Both front windows were completely gone and the floor was covered in glass. It was going to take a lot of work not make sure that every piece of glass was picked up. But John knew that most likely he would be picked glass shards out of his feet for the next couple of months.

As it was he began to carefully pick his way across the room aiming for his bedroom where there was foot protection to be had. He only stopped when Anthea and Mycroft appeared in the kitchen doorway.

"Ah John, we were wondering where you had gotten to" said Mycroft.

"I was giving a statement to the police and fireman of what happened and saw that Mrs. Hudson was settled. I came back for some shoes" said John wiggling his bare toes on the floor to emphasize his point. Anthea smiled before making his way towards him.

"Thank-you John" Anthea said before bending in to give him a slight kiss on the cheek before continuing down the stairway.

John fought to keep the blush from his face as he turned to look at Mycroft who looked slightly amused at John's reaction.

"There will be some people here in a few minutes to clean up the mess, though I am afraid you will have to wait this afternoon before the windows can be replaced" Mycroft said, taking mercy on the pink John by starting the conversation.

John felt relief that he would not have to clean out the mess, but knew that as soon as it was done that Sherlock and he would once again have to sweep the area for bugs. Mycroft wouldn't pass up the chance to try to keep a closer eye on his brother. But John knew he would have to put his foot down if he ever found one of those bugs in his room or the bathroom.

"Thank-you Mycroft that is a relief to know that that is taken care of. But why were you here so late?" asked John leaning against the doorjamb.

For one of the few times in Mycroft's life, he stared at John trying to remember why he came. To John it was a slight hesitation. But to Mycroft it was like a life time as he recalled the events that led him to visit his brother in the middle of the night in the first place.

"I had a case I wanted Sherlock to look over, a matter of national security. But as you might imagine he wanted nothing to do with it" explained Mycroft with a frown on his face. Leaning down he retrieved the briefcase he had brought with him they had been forgotten by John's chair and withdrew a file and handed it to John

"Andrew Weber, known to his friends of Westie, was found dead earlier this evening. He was found on the tracks at Battersea Station this morning with his head smashed in by a civil servant."

"A jumper?" asked John looking at the attached photos of the dead man.

"Seems like the logical assumption" said Mycroft.

John's eyes flickered up and quirked a smile, "But?"

Mycroft smiled slightly knowing that John would catch on to what he didn't say. "The M.O.D. is working on a new missile defense system – the Bruce-Partington Programme, it's called. The plans were put on a memory stick which is currently missing. Though it is not the only one, the plans are top secret and need to be recovered. We believe that West had the memory stick and now that he's dead we can't allow the plans to fall in the wrong hands. I came here to see if Sherlock would take the case. I would handle this myself but there are other circumstances that prevent me from taking this up."

"I take it that Sherlock has said no" guessed John closing the file and holding it out to Mycroft.

"Indeed he did" answered Mycroft, taking the offered file and returning it back to the briefcase.

"To boring for him?" asked John knowingly.

Mycroft nodded, "Yes he did say that. Perhaps you might speak to him John, it is a rather important matter. Those plans need to be found."

"I can try, but Sherlock doesn't really listen to me" said John with a shrug, "I don't think he really listens to anyone."

Mycroft hummed in agreement, but he did disagree on one thing. "You would be surprised on how much he does listen to you John."

Mycroft paused as he moved to walk past to lay his right hand on John's right shoulder. "Thank-you John." With a squeeze he continued on his way down the stairs.

John was left in the empty flat with burning cheeks once again. It defiantly was too late to deal with all of this. With nothing else to do and the fact his room hadn't been damaged in the blast John decided to try to catch a few more hours of sleep. He was glad that he didn't have to worry about going into work the next day. Though fearing future nightmares, he only let himself fall into a light sleep.

-3-3-3-3-3-

"John! John! Get up we have a case!" bellowed Sherlock at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the third floor.

The sudden loud noise jerked John out of the light dose he had fallen in. John immediately wanted to groan and go back asleep. His eyes felt gritty from the lack of sleep and his body ached from being thrown around in the explosion. John knew that Sherlock probably wanted to hurray, but the only way he was going to survive this day was if he had a hot shower, even a quick one.

Moving as quick as he could he grabbed some clean cloths and went down to the downstairs bathroom and into the shower. The hot water did the trick waking him up and relaxing his tense muscles. Though John wanted nothing to do but spend the foreseeable future underneath the tap he forced himself to do a quick wash and step out into the foggy bathroom and do a quick shave.

Sherlock huffed when John finally emerged from the shower, but said nothing as he observed the bags under John's eyes to the stiff way he held his shoulders.

"Come along John" was all he said. With a swirl of his coat he was descending down the stairs. John took a moment to put on his shoes and grab his black jacket before following. A cab was waiting right outside the door. It seemed that Mycroft's cleaning crew had worked overtime to get everything cleaned. Besides the huge hole in the building opposite, no signs of explosion were present on the street. John barely got the door closed before the cab was taking off.

Now that they were safely ensconced in the cab, John asked about the case that had Sherlock so impatient.

"Lestrade called, says he has a very interesting case" explained Sherlock.

John nodded and knowing that Sherlock would probably want silence closed his eyes and leaned his head back onto the headrest.

Sherlock turned his pale eyes to study John. Though the shower seemed to do him good, it was apparent that John was not running on full steam. It was very rare that John would show that quite obviously as he was doing right now. Sherlock resolved that until John returned back to his previous known behavior while on a case, Sherlock would make sure not to leave him behind.

But John was not aware of these thoughts as he kept his eyes closed and only opened them when he felt the cab come to a complete stop and the cabby told them the fare. John automatically reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet to pay the man.

Surprisingly Sherlock had waited for John to get out of the cab before heading towards the entrance of NSY. John wondered if the explosion had bothered Sherlock more than what he was willing to admit. Sherlock seemed to want to keep John in sight, even if that meant slowing down for John to catch up.

Though once they were in the building John had to walk fast to keep up with the long strides of Sherlock. Lestrade was waiting for them when they got off the elevator.

"You like the funny cases, don't you? The surprising ones" said Lestrade taking the lead back to his office. It was a redundant question because Lestrade knew that Sherlock liked anything that was odd, the intriguing.

"Obliviously" said Sherlock resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

Lestrade smiled at Sherlock, "You're going to love this then. You know that explosion?"

"Gas leak, yes?" answered Sherlock as they entered Lestrade's office where Sally Donavan was waiting for them.

"No."

"No?"

"No made to look like one" said Lestrade. By now Sherlock's interest was caught on the white envelope sitting on Lestrade's desk with his name written on it.

"What?" asked John not believing that Lestrade was now saying that the explosion was done on purpose.

Lestrade gave John a sympathetic look before continuing. "Hardly anything was left of the place except a strong box – a very strong box – and inside it was this" he said pointing towards the envelope.

"You haven't opened it?" asked Sherlock stepping forward and picking it off of the desk.

"It's addressed to you isn't it" said Lestrade with a pointed look that said screamed Obviously. "We've ran it through an x-ray machine, it's not booby trapped."

"How reassuring" said Sherlock as he crossed the room to the lamp. This gave John a glimpse of the envelope. To him it looked just like a plain white envelope, with Sherlock's name written in blue ink.

Of course to Sherlock it was like a note written in a language only he could understand. "Nice stationery. Bohemian" he said aloud.

"What?" asked Lestrade, he hadn't ever heard of such a place.

"From the Czech Republic. No fingerprints?" Sherlock asked.

"None" confirmed Lestrade.

Sherlock made a small humming sound as he tipped the paper to get a better view of the writing. "She used a fountain pen. A Parker Duofold – iridium nib."

"She?" questioned John. It still amazed John that Sherlock could tell something just from a little piece of handwriting.

"Obviously." Sherlock had gathered all the information he could from the outside of the envelope, the only thing left was to open it. Grabbing Lestrade's letter opener he carefully made a slit from one end of the envelope to the other. Setting the letter opener aside he tipped the envelope over his waiting palm.

Out of the tipped envelope a pink phone slide into Sherlock's waiting hand.


Hello! I know that its been a long time, and this chapter is long overdue. Blame graduating college and then the past five months job searching, which is still ongoing. But decided to get my butt in gear and actually write something. So here you go.

P.S it has been noted to me that in Chapter 7 I said that Harry was not abused by her Father according to the file Mycroft was reading, but in chapter Ten I said that Martin saw bruises on Harry. To set it straight, Harriet was abused by the Father but not enough to go to the hospital like John. I've went back to chapter 7 and added a little bit to make that clearer.