A small note: to avoid confusion, I think I should explain something. John is now sharing Lestrade's body, and usually he is the active one, so while Sherlock sees the DI's visual appearance, the personality is clearly John's (unless it stated otherwise).

I hope it helps :) Anyway, on with the story

For several moments, everyone was silent. Then a totally unexpected thing happened.

Sherlock, who never was at loss for a word and never lost an opportunity to state his opinion on every matter, simply looked at his older brother in absolute confusion. Then his lips moved, forming a single word.

"Mycroft…"

The older man simply held his gaze, the corners of his lips twitching up into a slight smile. Then Mycroft looked away, surveying everyone in the room intently and, reaching out with his hand, placed it on his soulmate's arm. The Shifter looked at him in an enquiry and, satisfied with what he saw, covered Mycroft's hand with his. This strange episode didn't last long, and Mycroft soon pulled his hand away, but, surprisingly, this whole thing helped Sherlock to take himself under control. The younger Holmes nodded at his brother slightly and, letting go of John, leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Waiting for the question, Greg?" Sherlock enquired, tilting his head to the side. "Mycroft always likes to point out that I tend to be dramatic; are you "following in my footsteps"?" the younger man made air quotes for emphasis.

"Can't help it, being around you for so many years," the DI grinned. "As for the question, it's a fairly obvious one, so I should simply answer it, shouldn't I?"

"If it's not too much trouble," Sherlock matched Greg's grin with his own mischievous one.

"Not at all, but I may need more information."

"Sure."

"So, Norton is aware of the damage he inflicted on me, and he knows that someone tried to save me, right?"

"Precisely."

"We need to tell him more when he gets here. We need to lure him into a trap."

Clearing his throat pointedly, Mycroft joined the conversation. "We would appreciate if you elaborate on your statement, Gregory."

"Of course," the DI paused, collecting his thoughts. "As I understand, you asked Stanley to guard John's body, even at cost of his life. But I think we should do exactly the opposite. Would Norton be able to detect that John isn't there?"

"He is quite powerful, but I think I have something that can, as you say, throw him off the scent," the Shifter said thoughtfully, attracting everyone's attention. "In your terms it's called a smokescreen. I can create an energy phantom and put it in the Quiet One's body. It will be enough to convince Norman Norton of the fact that the Curious One and his soulmate are at death's door. Norton's energy homing device, the one he put in Gregory's head, was designed to infest anyone who tries to eradicate it. When we were transferring the Quiet One's consciousness, I protected the Curious One from being contaminated. But I doubt that Norton is aware of this fact."

Sherlock looked totally unconvinced. "How can you know that? You said earlier that he's more powerful than you. Doesn't that mean he'd be able to sense the forgery?"

"Normally – yes, but let's not forget that he has bonded recently, and the result of this bonding wasn't as glorious as he imagined. The purpose of bonding is to unite two souls, making them both whole. Norman Norton failed to achieve that, and now he and his unlucky soulmate is suffering the worst fate – their bond is slowly tearing their very souls apart. Norton hopes that the Curious One will be his salvation. If he finds out that his supposed perfect soulmate is damaged by his very own homing device, he would go out of his way to save him. We should use this opportunity to our advantage."

"Sounds reasonable," Sherlock remarked thoughtfully, leaning back and steepling his fingers. This caused John to shift slightly in order to accommodate his soulmate's new position, and the younger man, nodding gratefully, rested one of his elbows on John's thigh. "Although I have a question. You said you're going to put the energy phantom in John's body to trick Norton. Considering the thing in his head, proving his terminal condition would be easy. But what are you planning to do with me? Of course I shall endeavor to act as a dying person, but I doubt it would look entirely convincing."

"Don't worry, Curious One, I have the means to help you with that," the Shifter smiled slightly and Sherlock frowned, already suspecting that he won't be ecstatic about their mentor's idea."I don't doubt your acting abilities, but, to ensure the success of our operation, we are going to take it a step further. As I mentioned earlier, I protected you from the effects of Norman Norton's homing device, but now we need to expose you to them for a brief period of time. It's bound to cause some pain, but I'll do my best to lessen the effects."

"Well, as long as you wouldn't cripple me – be my guest," interlacing his fingers, Sherlock lowered his arms. "Although the new setup suggests major changes in our strategy. Head-on collision seems to be replaced by hide-and-seek, isn't it?"

"It's only wise to be attentive to the situation around you and to make corresponding corrections in your course of action," the Shifter replied, smartly confirming the younger man's assumption."Speaking of actions: I think it's time us to leave this cozy place and take care of the matters at hand. I'll explain everything when we get into the basement."

"Which can be a bit problematic," John remarked suddenly, attracting everyone's attention. "I mean, Mycroft ordered Stanley to change the code. How are we going to open the door if we don't know it?"

The older Holmes shifted in his seat, shaking his head slightly and clicking his tongue. "John, do you really think I could leave such an important matter to the mercy of fate? I always have a backup plan; you should known that by now. Even the most complex code could be overridden. The lock on the basement door has a reset mechanism based on a voice recognition technology. I think you can easily guess whose voices it attuned to."

As soon as Mycroft said that, Sherlock grinned, obviously remembering something connected with his brother's explanation. The older Holmes, in turn, looked at his sibling with an expression of a mild disapproval, which caused the detective to chuckle quietly. "I could write an article about that day and those endless attempts Mycroft undertook to get me to properly say the required words. Maybe I'll tell you about that someday, but right now we should get back to reality and reset the basement lock."

"Excellent suggestion, dear brother," the politician nodded, raising his hand. "May I?"

"Of course, but do try to make our exit comfortable, Mycroft," Sherlock commented coolly. "John read me quite a lecture the last time, and I'm not eager to listen to it again."

"I tend not to repeat my mistakes, Sherlock," the older Holmes said coldly and snapped his fingers…

The first thing Greg thought about when they left the dreamscape was that despite their patented bickering, the Holmes brothers really cared, and not only about each other. This time Mycroft transferred all of them into the reality by means of a soft cloud, which closed around their small company like a comfortable cocoon. For a moment the DI wondered if it was possible to suffocate inside the imaginary cloud, but, luckily for him, their journey was short. In addition to that, John almost immediately asked if he was okay and also if he could clarify some moments in the smokescreen scenario. Right after that Sherlock unceremoniously broke into John and Greg's mental conversation, reminding that they had the code to reset and demanding John's total attention and support during the preliminary stage of their operation, which he already nicknamed "The Bogus".

Mycroft patiently waited while the three of them argued about what they should do first, but even his perfect self-control couldn't take more than two minutes, and he ended the discussion by confidently ushering them out of the room.

On their way to the basement Greg and John did the already familiar "stepping-forward-moving-back" dance, with John taking complete control. The lock stopped the small group for less than a minute, during which Mycroft uttered a sequence of letters and numbers. The lock chimed three times, then the LED display went blank for a few seconds before showing a prompt for a new code. Mycroft quickly pinched in the combination, and the heavy door opened, revealing a bit frightened but at the same time very determined Stanley Barlow.

"Change of plan, Stan," John stepped forward, placing his hand on the physician's shoulder to reassure him. "We decided to put on a show for Norton, and we need your help with that."

"Anything you need – just name it," the sandy-haired doctor visibly perked up at the prospect of being able to do something useful. "Where are we going to do it?"

"For now – in John's room," Sherlock said shortly. "All you need to know is that you're going to monitor mine and John's condition and take necessary measures if something goes wrong."

"Pretty much my job description," Barlow remarked, turning around and making his way to the ICU room. "I'm keeping John in a drug-induced coma, but his vitals are stable, there weren't any anomalies. Do I need to reduce the anaesthetic?"

"It is irrelevant to our plan, Doctor Barlow," Mycroft replied, following him. "Our main concern is Sherlock; there are going to be some manipulations applied to John's body, but they will be minimal. In my brother's case, however, the physical condition is surely expected to worsen."

The sandy-haired doctor stopped short and turned around. "And you expect me to help with THAT? It's against the Hippocratic oath!"

"There is no need to be so dramatic, Doctor," the politician frowned in mild irritation. "If there was any other way, we would've undoubtedly used it. Unfortunately, there isn't, so please spare us your rightful indignation and get to work."

The older Holmes' icy glare equaled his cold voice, and Barlow involuntarily took a step back, as if trying to escape a sudden gust of a frosty wind. "Well, if it's necessary, then I have no choice but to comply. But I strongly disagree…"

Mycroft didn't let him finish. "Yes, Doctor, you made it absolutely clear. Now, if you wouldn't mind, we would appreciate you helping us to prepare for Norman Norton's visit."

Sherlock, who watched this debate without saying a single word, finally decided to put one in. "Don't worry, Stanley, I've been through much worse. Just take a good care of me and John and punch Mycroft if he manages to spoil anything."

"Very amusing, Sherlock," Mycroft said acidly. "Shall I send you to meet Norton on your own?"

"Mycroft," John said quietly. "We are getting sidetracked. Probably I shouldn't mention that, but Stanley has a reason to be concerned – two patients under his care instead of one mean more responsibility. As for Sherlock, you know how he reacts when something doesn't go according to the plan."

The ex-army medic did nothing more than stating obvious facts, but it seemed to set the rest of the small company at ease. Barlow looked at John with gratitude, and both Holmes visibly relaxed.

"Thank you, John," Mycroft replied simply. "Shall we, gentlemen?"

Stanley moved first, leading the rest of their group into the room. Mycroft and Sherlock followed suit, but John hesitated a few moments before finally, and a bit hesitantly, trailing after his soulmate. It's not every day that one gets to see his body lying on a hospital bed while his consciousness is happily sharing the body of another human being.

It wasn't as awful as he imagined: although the skin seemed too pale, the face of his physical shell looked peaceful and tranquil. For a brief moment John considered the possibility of never being able to return to his body, and Sherlock immediately reacted by moving closer and placing his arm around John's shoulders.

"Don't worry, John," the dark-haired man murmured quietly. "We'll get you back, I promise."

"I hope so," the doctor replied, looking at his soulmate. "Because Greg doesn't deserve to spend the rest of his life dreading the moment when he'll have no choicebut to kick me out in order to survive."

"Let's not think of a worst case scenario," Sherlock escorted his soulmate to the comfortable armchair hear the bed and, pressing lightly on his shoulders, made him sit down. "Now hush. I need you to be near when our mentor exposes me to Norton's brain-eating thing. Just let me pull up another armchair."

Hearing their conversation, Stanley moved to the armchair which stood in the corner of the room and rolled it easily towards Sherlock. The great detective accepted the armchair with a grateful smile and manoeuvred it into position alongside John's. When everything was ready, the younger Holmes sat down and took his soulmate's hand, entwining their fingers.

"We are ready," the dark-haired man announced, squeezing his partner's fingers slightly. "Mycroft, I think it's time for you to let our mentor out."

Sherlock was habitually provoking his brother, and the older Holmes, as always, politely ignored him. Closing his eyes, Mycroft took a deep breath and stilled.

A moment later Mycroft was gone, and the Shifter looked at them with his inhumanly blue eyes. 'Fear not, Chosen Ones, the procedure would take a few moments, and I do my best to lessen its effects.'

'Ah, yes, about that,' John reacted promptly. 'Care to tell us what exactly are we going to feel? I know you mean the Curious One no harm, but it's always good to be prepared for anything, you know…'

'A slight headache, possible nausea,' the Shifter said softly. 'Metaphorically speaking, the one you call Greg Lestrade found himself in the centre of an explosion, while your experience would be similar to an echo of the blast wave.'

'Interesting explanation,' John commented calmly. 'Although not a very reassuring one, because blast waves can be quite harmful, I know it from personal experience.'

'You said yourself that I mean the Curious One no harm. And we will be near to support him,' the Shifter replied. 'Now, shall we begin?'

John and Sherlock nodded in unison, and the Shifter took a step towards the bed with John's physical body. Gracefully bending over the bed, the entity in Mycroft's body placed his hands on the doctor's solar plexus and forehead.

Knowing that John couldn't see streams of energy that constantly flowed around them and in them, Sherlock concentrated and broadcasted everything that he saw directly in John's mind. The blond doctor gasped in surprise and leaned closer to his soulmate, tightening his hold on Sherlock's slender fingers. The younger Holmes didn't try to break his partner's crushing grip – it was just a small inconvenience comparing to what they saw right now.

At first, nothing happened, but a few moments later the Shifter's hands began to glow faintly. With each second the glow became brighter, gradually turning into a full-blown halo, and soon Sherlock was forced to tune his energy perception down to avoid the sensory overload.

The Shifter, meanwhile, spent a few more minutes accumulating the energy charge on his hands, and then, spreading his fingers wider, sent it forth into John's body. Penetrating John's physical shell, the energy started to spread from the area of the solar plexus up, going straight to the damaged brain. The Shifter moved one of his hands correspondingly, guiding and concentrating the flow. In mere moments John's head was flooded with light, and as soon as it happened, Sherlock cried out in pain and doubled over, pulling his hand out of his soulmate's grip.

Suddenly bereft of Sherlock's closeness and acting on an instinct, John slid out of the chair, landing on the floor and moving around until he was on his knees in front of his soulmate. Sherlock, whose pain abated to the point when he could understand the surrounding situation again, looked at John with a silent plea in his pain-filled gaze.

'You can help him, Quiet One,' the Shifter's voice said softly in the doctor's head. 'You're a healer, this is your gift. Just use your hands.'

Surprised and a bit doubtful, John looked down at his – or rather, Greg's – hands.

He? A healer?

Well, he actually was a doctor, but he seriously doubted that…

'You have powers that you aren't yet aware of, Quiet One,' the Shifter continued. 'But not knowing doesn't mean denying their existence. Just still your mind and allow yourself to feel.'

Sherlock, who was watching his soulmate closely despite the searing pain in his head, couldn't stop a stifled moan from escaping his lips, and that was all the incentive John needed.

Closing his eyes, the blond doctor relaxed and focused his attention on his hands. A moment later he felt it – a slight tingling, spreading from the tips of his fingers and gradually enveloping both of his palms.

The younger Holmes, it seems, felt the change too, because he reached out with a slightly shaking hands and, closing his fingers around his soulmate's wrists, tugged his arms towards his sore head. John readily obeyed, carding his fingers through Sherlock's curls and pressing his palms against his partner's skull.

Sighing in relief, Sherlock slid out of his chair and joined his soulmate on the floor. John shifted slightly, accommodating his partner's new position, and, allowing the dark-haired man to rest his forehead against his shoulder, continued to gently stroke his fingers through Sherlock's unruly hair.

'Better?' John asked sympathetically, half-hugging his soulmate with one arm and continuing his soothing ministrations with the other.

'Uh-huh,' Sherlock replied succinctly, taking hold of John's hand and guiding it to show the pattern in which he desired to be stroked. 'Just keep it up a bit longer; I need to adjust my senses so this damned pain won't be such a drawback.'

'Whatever you need,' John agreed, not faltering in his smooth movements.

Right at that moment, a buzzing sound echoed through the room, and Mycroft's eyes regained his usual colour.

"Seems like our time is up, gentlemen," the politician announced calmly. "I set the alarm which should notify us of Norton's appearance near the castle. This sound means that he is already at our gate."