A/N: bulletproofsince1999, thanks for your continuing encouraging reviews - guest reviewer, thank you also, John and Mycroft together is challenging but interesting to write but there are difficulties to be overcome, not least a not-so-dead-Sherlock ;-) Thanks to everyone else who has stuck with it this far too. This is turning into a far longer fic than I expected, and there is actually a plot(!), so hopefully you don't get bored before the end!

A/N: I had to go back and examine timelines because I was getting lost - one of the downfalls of 'writing as I go' for me. There are three distinct timelines in this fic which will all eventually converge, so sorry if it gets confusing. Basically, anything in italics is 'past' documenting the start of JW/MH relationship, anything in normal type featuring the Pack is 'recent past', anything in normal type featuring Sherlock is 'present'. I may write more in a particular timeframe to get the stories to meet more quickly but I'll try to make it clear where we are in time! If it's still confusing just yell at me via PM or review and I'll try to sort it out - ta, nat x

Chapter 11 (scene not in TEH)

Mycroft sat in his office - the official one, not one of the several he kept for questionable purposes or Pack business - and sank his head into his hands. Anthea had just buzzed him to say Sherlock was outside and he was livid that John Watson had almost been burned to a crisp and appeared to be holding Mycroft personally responsible. He had also just finished a call from their Mother having spent - he checked his watch - twenty-three minutes unsuccessfully avoiding any sort of commitment to spend time with his parents on their upcoming visit. Somehow Mummy had talked him into a matinee of 'Les Miserables' which would of course entail post-show dinner and drinks. He considered it a fate only marginally better than the trip to see a rock band at the O2 that John and Lestrade had forced on him last month. The memory made him shudder and he was sure his ears were still ringing! Perhaps he could plead hearing loss as a reason not to attend the theatre and persuade Sherlock to take them instead. After all, he had two years' worth of dreary family commitments to catch up on.

The door burst open and the whirlwind that was his brother swept in, calmly followed by Anthea who said "the Prime Minister is expecting you at two. The car will be here at one-thirty precisely." He smiled his thanks understanding her code perfectly and checking his watch again to see how long he had to appease his brother before 'two', Mary, expected him at the safe house, number 130. Half an hour should do it. He would be amazed if Sherlock could bear to be in his company that long.

Mycroft had his own reasons to be concerned about the attack on John, not least that whatever they had used to subdue him had worked successfully on their unique metabolism meaning someone dangerous knew how to hurt them. Ever since he had learned that Moran had been responsible for turning John, Mycroft had been more cautious in his dealings with his contact. Sebastian Moran had been Pack when it was first established in London. There were only a few wolves back then, and they all knew one another well, but the idea of banding together to form a Pack was alien to them, and petty squabbles quickly drove them apart. Sebastian Moran had not renewed his Pack bond for over twenty years.

When Mycroft was first told of the wolf attack on John Watson he suspected a lone wolf from outside the UK, or perhaps someone who had been run out of one of the northern UK packs looking to be noticed. When the injured man was brought to the facility the Alpha was shocked to detect the faintest trace of the Pack bond on him. If one of his own was responsible the disease in his blood would have marked him as full Pack immediately but it was no more than a vaguely familiar call to Mycroft. It gave John a link to the Pack but meant he would always be an outsider, weaker than the rest and destined to be on the fringe without rank. Mycroft had assiduously researched wolves that had distanced themselves from the Pack over the last twenty years, most of whom had been killed in disputes with other packs they had run in to, but there were three men still living that Mycroft thought could possibly have been responsible - one was in prison serving a life term, one was in South America and the third was Lord Sebastian Moran, peer of the realm and already in Mycroft's pocket.

"I want to know who was responsible for hurting John," Sherlock demanded without preamble, looming over his brother in his ridiculous coat.

"Why would I know? John Watson's well-being is no longer anything to do with me now the hero is returned," he lied smoothly unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice. "Was he hurt?" The scratches and scrapes and smoke inhalation would heal within hours which could be problematic around a man as observant as Sherlock but the Pack was used to explaining away injuries as 'not as bad as they first appeared'.

"Not badly, but he could have been killed? Why aren't you taking this seriously?"

"Well it's hardly a matter of National Security, brother. Take it to the police. Your pet detective loves this kind of thing." Lestrade would curse him for that no doubt but Mycroft was already doing everything he could think of to identify John's abductor; he just couldn't make Sherlock aware of it.

"I asked you to take care of him, yet he looks dreadful. He's gained weight and he's living with a woman!" The last word was said with such distaste Mycroft chuckled. Apparently John hadn't seen fit to inform Sherlock of his relationship status with Mary so the detective had jumped to the logical conclusion. Clearly not yet up to his full deductive powers then. One thing Mycroft was certain of, thanks to the Pack bond, was that there was no romantic attachment to Mary at all in spite of John's surprising participation in Mary's annual love-in a few weeks earlier. He and Lestrade seemed to have enjoyed a good time, although they both protested strongly to the contrary. Mary had tolerated it with good humour, even if her enthusiasm was lacking at times. It was difficult to enjoy a week long bout of straight passion when she had a loving, caring girlfriend who had no idea of her double life. The three had been glad when Mary's time had passed.

"Don't you have any idea who attacked John?" Mycroft asked hopefully. "You are the detective after all."

"No, but I suspect someone is trying to get at me by hurting him."

That was an angle Mycroft hadn't thought to explore but Sherlock had only been home five minutes; he hadn't had time to piss anyone off that badly yet. But what if Sherlock had the reason correct but the target wrong? Moran had hurt John before and he had every reason to dislike and distrust Mycroft. He knew that John was under Mycroft's protection as Alpha, and that he was likely the easiest target in the Pack. If he also knew of their former relationship then that would make it even more likely he would use John against him… Things had been better between John and him since Marcus' death and after spending the weekend together Mycroft had begun to hope... But no. Any chance of reconciliation was destroyed by his own hand the moment he decided it was time for Sherlock to return from the dead. He only had himself to blame for the resultant heartache. Caring truly was not an advantage.

He had avoided speaking to John since Sherlock's return, ignoring the barrage of furious text messages and voicemails that accused him of being a lying, deceitful twat. Mycroft couldn't blame him when they'd been so close. He had lied to him about Sherlock's death, had deliberately deceived him into believing he grieved for his dead brother and had built their relationship on the hope Sherlock would never again be a part of John's life. He didn't consider himself a coward in any area of his life except John Watson, specifically his feelings for the small man. He loved him, plain and simple, but his not-so-dead brother had a prior claim.

"I'll look into it," he promised his brother. "Give John my kind regards."