Warnings: a bit of violence, disturbing images at the end of the chapter.

As always, a huge 'thank you' to my beta, Pilikia18

For a moment, everyone was silent; then Sherlock turned to Lestrade and, placing a hand on his back, gently nudged the DI towards the bed near the one on which he deposited his lethargic soulmate.

"You'd better lie down, Greg," the younger man said softly. "I need a couple of minutes to sort this situation out, and after that we'll continue with the lifeboat process."

Half-turning, Greg laid his hand on Sherlock's shoulder and squeezed lightly, then let go and headed in the direction the younger Holmes so clearly indicated for him. Stanley was already waiting near the bed, and helped him settle in for the upcoming process with all possible comfort. Greg thanked the sandy-haired doctor quietly, but kept his gaze trained on Sherlock.

"Are you sure you can handle this?" the DI asked carefully. "I have a feeling you've got a lot to discuss."

"Don't worry, Greg," Sherlock glanced back over his shoulder before strolling confidently towards his brother. "Time is relative."

"Not sure I understand what you mean by that, but it's your call, anyway," the silver-haired man relaxed on the bed, folding his hands across his chest. "Good luck!"

Sherlock just nodded and closed the remaining short distance, stopping almost nose-to-nose with Mycroft. The older Holmes, whose eyes returned to their normal colour, by that moment managed to close the door and now was leaning against it, waiting. Without saying a single word Sherlock, to everyone's immense surprise, placed his hands on his sibling's shoulders and leaned his forehead against Mycroft's; a second later the older man slid his arms around Sherlock and Holmes' brothers literally froze.

They were back at the top of the cliff, where John and Sherlock had their first common dream; only now he was sharing the dream space with Mycroft and his 'associate'. Speaking of which…

'I'd prefer to see both of you rather than have some entity hiding inside my brother,' Sherlock demanded, clasping his hands behind his back and doing his best to appear more intimidating. 'And I expect to hear your explanation, Shifter'.

'Considering the whole situation it's a reasonable demand,' Mycroft's figure sort of flickered, and a moment later a second person appeared beside him – a young man in a dark suit, whom Sherlock immediately recognized as Norton's PA.

'Interesting choice,' the detective commented, while a phantom of Damian Melford brought three comfortable armchairs into existence by clicking his fingers.

'A logical one,' commented the Shifter, gesturing towards the armchairs. 'Simply because this person plays a significant role in my plan. Not as significant as yours, of course, but without his interference Norton would've caused much more damage.'

'I'd rather hear a less enigmatic version of this story,' Sherlock made his way to the one of the armchairs and sat down, habitually steepling his fingers in front of his lips. 'And do try to make it as short as possible – relative or not, time is of the essence right now.'

The Shifter made a grand gesture of escorting the older Holmes to the armchair opposite Sherlock's, then repositioned his own so it now stood alongside Mycroft's. 'You may not concern yourself with a timeframe problem; I'm quite adept at manipulating it.'

'Amongst other things,' Sherlock couldn't help commenting, but the two men across from him chose not to react to this obvious jab. 'Fine, I'm listening - although I'd prefer the Shifter to be the one telling the story. He's the one who got us all into this mess, as I gather.'

'Sherlock,' Mycroft said warningly, levelling his patent ice-cold stare on his brother.

'That's alright, my Dearest One,' the Shifter placed his hand on Mycroft's arm, eliciting a snort from Sherlock at that obvious display of affection. 'I'm already used to the Curious One's way of communicating.'

Sherlock answered with a wolfish grin and Mycroft tensed, preparing for a thorough tongue-lashing from his brother; but the grin was gone a second later, and the younger Holmes' expression became all businesslike.

'So, the story,' he prompted, placing his arms on the armrests and fixing the Shifter with his usual piercing stare.

The Shifter took his hand off his companion's arm and mirrored Sherlock's pose. Mycroft shifted slightly, so his arm now was pressed against his associate's from wrist to elbow, and the Shifter began speaking.

Truth be told, during this narrative Sherlock managed to check his wristwatch - a few times - and he didn't bother to pretend he WASN'T doing that. Not that it mattered, anyway – the Shifter was so absorbed in his story he hadn't even registered Mycroft's fingers lightly stroking the back of his hand. This little caress was, in fact, the reason for the younger to start his show with the watch-checking. Mycroft acted like a bonded person, and Sherlock, also being one, was suddenly overwhelmed with a strange feeling of emptiness. It took him a few moments to make sense of that phenomenon, but when he did, the only indication of that was a brief loss of focus in his keen eyes. His mind continued to receive and sort through an incoming stream on information, but with each moment the void inside him grew bigger, threatening to swallow him whole.

That's what craving felt like.

The Shifter, as if sensing Sherlock's distress, swiftly brought his story to an end, adding a few bits of relevant information, and fell silent after that, giving the detective a necessary reprieve to pull himself together.

The younger Holmes managed a curt nod in return and tipped his head back, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Now wasn't the time for sentiments; John's life depended on his actions, and he couldn't allow himself the luxury of taking second chances.

'Nice collection of screw-ups you've got here,' he commented flatly, lowering his head and locking eyes with the Shifter. 'I'm not talking about my brother, of course – he's your only correct decision in this whole chain of dilettantish actions. Although I can write off your story before meeting him as a misconduct. But after that… Mycroft, you're one of the smartest men on this whole planet, how could you possibly have allowed him to drag you into that apotheosis of stupidity?'

Mycroft Holmes always prided himself on the ability to keep his emotions under control. Except for the occasions when his younger brother persisted in getting on his nerves.

Like now, for example.

'Sherlock,' only one word, but anyone with an instinct of self-preservation would've backed down immediately.

Anyone except Sherlock, who managed to square his shoulders and stick out his chin, gearing up for a round of verbal sparring. Mycroft rolled his eyes, preparing to rebuff his sibling, but right at that moment the Shifter interfered, breaking the tension with a quiet laugh.

'Calm down, my Dearest One,' his unusual partner whispered. 'The Curious One is just trying to deal with a significant lapse in his memory. Combined with the fact of you not only knowing everything, but also partially being a reason of that lapse…'

'I heard everything, you know,' Sherlock interrupted petulantly. 'Care to tell me whose brilliant idea was that?'

Mycroft couldn't prevent a crooked smile from emerging on his face: when it came to petulance, the Shifter could easily outdo Sherlock without even breaking a sweat.

'It was a combined effort,' the Shifter replied calmly. 'Beings of my kind are not all-powerful or all-knowing, Curious One. We make mistakes and we do our best to correct them. We were created by humans, after all; you can't expect us to be perfect.'

'In that case you should've stuck to your initial purpose – fixing your master and continuing to your next task, instead of trying to play god.'

That was a clear provocation on Sherlock's part, and Mycroft tensed again, knowing full well how the Shifter resented any mentions of his whole kind being just slaves. But this time the older man's fears were unfounded – his companion reacted to Sherlock's insult with an understanding smile.

'As I already mentioned, I'm just trying to serve my purpose as well as possible; and I apologise for not being able to prevent the attack on the one you call Greg Lestrade. As for the Quiet One – he's stronger than you think. His body has already begun to heal; the lifeboat is the best way to speed this process.'

Mycroft, who was listening to their conversation attentively, raised an eyebrow upon hearing a strange word. 'The lifeboat?'

This time it was Sherlock who launched into a quite detailed retelling of recent events and after that charted out the whole plan about John temporarily cohabiting Lestrade's body.

Mycroft proceeded to hear him out without any interruption, but Sherlock could clearly see that his older brother wasn't at all happy with this turn of events. And he didn't fail to express his opinion the moment Sherlock finally fell silent.

'Allow me to redirect your recent question: whose brilliant idea was that? And, more importantly: how come that two of you managed simultaneously to lose your minds?' Mycroft's voice was disturbingly calm. 'I could've expected such extravagance from Sherlock, but you…'

The Shifter was gathering his thoughts to defend himself when Sherlock caught his gaze and shook his head, smiling slightly.

'And I could never expect such a deep concern on John's part from you, dear brother,' the dark-haired man murmured. 'Clearly, the Shifter has a good influence on you. Never before have you shown your emotions so clearly; it's certainly a big progress on your part. But there's nothing to be concerned about, I assure you. John and I, we know full well what we are about to do. I would've never approved such a plan if I hadn't been sure all participants were willing to carry it out.'

There was still a shadow of doubt in Mycroft's eyes, but Sherlock knew his brother too well: the older Holmes was already on their side and planning ahead. That knowledge was confirmed a moment later, when Mycroft's gaze cleared and he drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. 'So, Gregory…'

'… is perfectly okay with this and willing to share his body with John,' Sherlock confirmed. 'There's one small problem, though: I don't think John would be happy if he discovers the circumstances of my death. He is very straightforward in his beliefs, and if he finds out we deceived him, it would be a complete disaster.'

'Nonsense,' Mycroft waved his hand for emphasis. 'He is ex-military, and he's quite capable of seeing the bigger picture. Our plan was a necessity; surely he can understand that.'

'Of course he can,' agreed Sherlock. 'But it wouldn't change the fact we lied to him. Contrary to your opinion, dear brother, John is extremely sensitive on the subject of right and wrong. When Norton is dealt with, I'll tell John the whole truth.'

'That's reasonable,' Mycroft agreed after a brief hesitation. 'Consider your request satisfied.'

'What if Norton uses this knowledge against you?' the Shifter cut in. 'He will not hesitate if he discovers your secret.'

'And how exactly is he going to do that? As I understand, there are only three people privy to this information – four, if we count you. No-one in this room is going to disclose it, and, judging by the fact that Damian Melford agreed to work against his boss, he's not so stupid to do it either.'

Mycroft lowered his eyes for a second, and Sherlock, knowing his brother's manners too well, raised his eyebrow. The older Holmes had some news, and they were not good.

'Actually, there's one more person we should take into account,' Mycroft said firmly. 'Damian Melford contacted Doctor Barlow not long ago with the purpose of warning us about Norton's arrival this morning. I deemed it necessary to disclose some information to him.'

Sherlock looked thoughtful for a moment, then his face cleared. 'A slight improvidence on your part, Mycroft, but not really a problem. A strong sedative and a locked room – and it's solved.'

'A radical solution, but in these circumstances – a reasonable one,' the Shifter agreed. 'But we have one more problem, I'm afraid. An hour ago Norman Norton forcefully bonded with Damian Melford. It's possible that he now has all the information Melford knew about.'

'Then it's going to be my word against his,' Sherlock replied confidently. 'And John is not going to believe him.'

'Let's hope you're right,' Mycroft concluded. 'Now, how about getting back and including John and Gregory in our conversation?'

'Agreed,' Sherlock and the Shifter answered simultaneously. Mycroft nodded and snapped his fingers…

"You have definitely lost a few pounds, Mycroft," Sherlock commented before Mycroft let him go and stepped back. "And you've changed you cologne. Not to mention you're not freezing me anymore, which is reassuring."

This was Sherlock's way of complimenting people, so Mycroft acknowledged his brother's words with a small smile, then gestured towards the rest of their group. "Shall we?"

"Of course," Sherlock headed to John's bed, and Mycroft made his way towards Greg. "Stanley, prepare the defibrillator. We'll need it in a couple of minutes."

"Sure, Sherlock," Barlow did as he was told, and the Holmes brothers sat down on the edges of the beds.

"Mycroft?" Lestrade asked, perplexed, just as the older Holmes reached out and took his hand. Out of the corner of his eye the DI saw Sherlock doing the same with John.

"Shh, Gregory, everything's fine," Mycroft said quietly, extending his arm in Sherlock's direction. The younger man immediately gripped it and closed his eyes. "You just need to hold John's hand. We have some news, but we need to be in the dreamscape to tell them to both of you."

"Well, if you say so..," Lestrade shifted on the bed and stretched his arm so he could close his fingers around John's lax ones.

"Excellent," Mycroft murmured. "Now close your eyes…"

It was the cave again, and Greg looked around, immediately spotting John, Sherlock and Mycroft in the far corner. Mycroft turned to look at him and beckoned him over, his eyes looking unnaturally blue for some reason. Greg briefly wondered if it was the effect of lighting; but when he got closer it became apparent that the older Holmes' eyes were indeed looking absolutely inhuman. Shocked, Lestrade stumbled a little, and then unconsciously took a step back. Sherlock, in turn, moved forward, closed the distance between them and, stopping by Lestrade's side, turned about and placed his arm around the DI's shoulders.

'Allow me to introduce you to our mentor, Greg,' Sherlock said amiably. 'Also known as the Shifter, and currently sharing a body with my brother, Mycroft.'

'The lifeboat?' Greg enquired carefully, beginning to move forward due to Sherlock's apparent decision to drag him along.

'Not quite,' the mysterious Shifter replied. 'The lifeboat is a temporal measure for critical conditions. We are bonded for life.'

'I'm not sure I want to know all the details right now, but I see your point,' Lestrade pulled out of Sherlock's half-embrace. 'Okay, you introduced us; what's next?'

'Now we can proceed to the next stage of our plan, which requires returning back to reality and using the defibrillator.'

'Okay,' the DI took a deep breath. 'I'm ready.'

'Don't worry, Greg, Mycroft and I going to take care of everything. All you need is to relax,' Sherlock squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.

'Interesting assessment, considering the fact I need to actually die for it,' the silver-haired man joked lightly. 'But I trust you. Both of you. So do your thing, and see you later.'

John, who was silent up to that moment, placed his hand on Greg's arm. The blond-haired doctor looked dazed, which was understandable: finding out that your soulmate's brother is happily sharing his body with your spiritual guide tends to come as a bit of a shock, to put it lightly. So Greg did the one thing a real friend would do: he made an attempt to cheer John up.

'I distinctly remember telling you once that you'll never be bored with these two, John,' Lestrade flashed John his trademark boyish grin. 'Just go with the flow, and wait for an opportunity to harass both of them about everything.'

John smiled in return. 'Only if you would back me up on that, Greg.'

'Sure thing,' another grin, this time positively blinding. 'So… want to be my guest for a while?'

'Thought you'd never ask…'

They were back to reality in the next second, and Mycroft immediately let go of Greg and Sherlock's hands. Greg and Sherlock did the same, and the younger Holmes raised an eyebrow at his brother questioningly.

"Just a moment," Mycroft replied, and his eyes went sky-blue again. "So, here's what we are going to do: Curious One, I need you to place your fingers on the Quiet One's temples and ease his soul out of his body. After that I'll take over and help him to nestle inside his vessel. Doctor Barlow will take care of all medical details of the procedure, and I also need him to give an injection of mild sedative to the inspector right after the revival. A newly created symbiotic connection needs time and space to settle without any disturbances, so sleep is mandatory. Any questions?"

Three men simultaneously shook their heads.

"Good, then we are ready. Everybody take your positions, please."

Greg closed his eyes and relaxed as much as he could. There was a whine of the charging defibrillator, then his body arched off the bed and a sharp pain blossomed inside his chest. A second later his world went away.

As soon as Greg flat lined, Sherlock switched on his ability to see energies and colours. John's soul was right in front of him – a sparkling cloud confined inside the shell of his physical body. The younger man pressed his fingertips to his soulmate's temples, and the cloud immediately gravitated upwards, breaching the confines and settling on Sherlock hands, which the detective hurriedly cupped together.

A second later Mycroft's strong palms closed around Sherlock's slender ones, and, after a brief hesitation the dark-haired man allowed the cloud to move into the Shifter's hands. After that he watched as the Shifter carried his soulmate's energy to Greg's lifeless body and literally pushed John in. Stanley charged the defibrillator and shocked Lestrade into life, then slipped a hypodermic needle under the skin of his arm as soon as Greg's heart started beating again.

Sherlock was still watching as John's energy carefully spread and settled in Greg's body and a connection formed between the doctor's and the inspector's minds, when Mycroft placed a hand on his shoulder. Sherlock turned to look at him, noticing that it was his brother again – the older Holmes' eyes were their normal gray-blue colour.

"We need to move them to another room, Sherlock," Mycroft said softly. "John will need you when he wakes up, so it would be better if you stay with him for the night. Plus it would give you an opportunity to get used to Lestrade's presence."

"I hope you are not suggesting...," Sherlock began, aiming for his usual witty retort, but Mycroft suddenly pulled him into an awkward embrace. The younger Holmes froze, unsure at first how to react, and then slowly hugged his older sibling back, lowering his head and tucking his face into Mycroft's shoulder. His brother took a shuddering breath, and Sherlock felt a touch of something wet on his cheek. Alarmed, he pulled back a little and saw tear tracks on his brother's face; Mycroft was crying quietly and, judging by his tightly shut eyes, trying to get himself under control at the same time. Unsure what to do to help, Sherlock finally hugged his sibling closer and waited, from time to time making soothing sounds.

A minute later Mycroft untangled himself from his younger brother's arms and stepped back, pulling a handkerchief out of the breast pocket and dabbing at his face. Sherlock watched him silently for a moment, then asked softly:

"Alright?"

"Absolutely," the older Holmes folded the handkerchief and put it back into his pocket. "Sorry. That was a bit over the top."

"The Shifter?" Sherlock enquired with understanding.

"Being a host to a supernatural being is never easy," Mycroft admitted, straightening his suit jacket. "Sometimes it can be… overwhelming."

"You don't need to make excuses for me, Mycroft," Sherlock replied, turning and crossing over to Lestrade's bed. "Stanley, we need to transfer both of them into another room. There should be a stretcher; fetch it, please."

Mycroft, grateful for Sherlock's silent support, moved into the corner of the room and motioned for the physician to follow. "Sherlock, would you be so kind as to see to your sleeping arrangements? And switch on the intensive care unit, while you're at it – we need to take care of John's body."

Sherlock nodded and disappeared through the door, and Mycroft, with Barlow's cooperation, pulled the stretcher towards the bed.

Half an hour later John's body was hooked to the various machinery and Sherlock settled into the bed with the sleeping Lestrade. He still had trouble associating the DI's appearance with his soulmate; mostly because Greg's smell was different and therefore extremely confusing. But, as his brother said earlier, Sherlock needed to get used to it, so he did the only logical thing he could – moved closer and pillowed his head on Greg's shoulder, inhaling deeply.

The sleep came two minutes later, and Sherlock faded away with his nose buried in Greg's silver hair…

Norton finished his bonding assault and pulled away, surveying his soulmate with a morbid curiosity. Damian's eyes were red from crying, face streaked with tear tracks, and the lower lip was bloody – he probably bit through it from the pain he seemed to be experiencing. But he belonged to Norton now with his body and soul, and the banker was happy to see Melford so pliant and submissive. While they were bonding, Norman detected the area in Damian's mind where his PA attempted to hide the core of his personality; the banker cruelly assisted him, building a solid wall around it and turning a sanctuary into a prison. There was no trace of Melford's previous persona – just a blank slate for Norton to do as he pleased; and the psychic knew exactly what his first experiment would be.

Norman Norton, in fact, had a hidden persona. It had formed in his youth, when he met a man once – a powerful psychopath who locked him inside a small room in his house and taught him to be submissive and obedient. Norton learned that lesson well and, with the passing of time, developed a strange obsession first with knots, then with tying people up. When he received his gift, those urges went away; but now, after his merging with Damian, they returned with a vengeance.

Getting up from the bed, Norton went to the wardrobe into which Melford had unpacked his clothes, selected two expensive silk ties – his birthday presents to Damian, - and returned to his PA.

"Turn onto your side, keep your hands behind your back and your legs straight," Norman ordered, feeling as his skin tingled with the long-forgotten excitement. "Hurry up, pet."

"Yes, master," the younger man threw back the blanket and hurried to comply, presenting Norton with a sight which made him hold his breath.

So beautiful, all his…

Hands trembling slightly in anticipation, Norman set about his task, binding Melford's arms and legs. It took him about a minute and a half; and when he was finished, he slid back into bed, pulling Damian closer. He stopped only when the younger man's body was pressed flush to his side and his head pillowed on his chest; this position allowed Norton to slide an arm around Melford's body, securing him in place.

Satisfied, the psychic closed his eyes and relaxed, yawning. "Show me your dreamscapes, pet. And make them beautiful, or you will be punished."

"Your wish is my command, master," Damian answered quietly, trying to pull Norman into a dream world. But his gift of being the dream architect went away with the previous personality, and after a few futile attempts his disappointed master simply pushed him off the bed. Melford hit the floor and curled into a ball, trying not to make a single sound as the tears of pain and despair rolled down his face.

Deep inside his mind, behind the blind wall, his very soul crumpled to the floor, slumping in defeat. No matter how hard it tried, it couldn't break the wall from the inside. There was only one hope for Damian now, only one being that could save him.

The Shifter.

If only he will be able to survive the wait…