Not sure if this is a very good chapter, but here goes anyway. :/

Howell's Residence

Toorak

VIC

Australia

Sherlock was beginning to tire of this – waking up without any idea of how he got there, usually staring up at a ceiling.

The bed is a definite bonus, he thought, as he quickly realised he was in a bedroom,

'Sorry, Sherlock, I hate to sedate you like an animal, but it was for your own good," Sherlock recognised the voice in the corner and had to stop himself from reacting, as he sat up slowly and it dawned on him the bedroom, big and modern, had him and Moriarty in it and the door was locked.

Moriarty was playing with the key.

"Why are we in the bedroom?" Sherlock asked, and what could only be described as a wicked grin, crossed the psychopath's features,

"Take a guess, Sherly," The detective tried not to wince at both the name and the implications, but knew he failed quite miserably. Still, never let him be called a pessimist,

"I don't suppose you were going to just let me relax a bit, were you?" He asked dryly and Moriarty laughed, as he watched Sherlock sit up,

'Where did you get this humour from?" was his reply and Sherlock cocked an eyebrow,

"Couldn't tell you,"

"Sherlock," Moriarty got to his feet, but Sherlock couldn't find the right amount of coordination to slide of the bed before the madman was standing at the foot of it, looking entirely too happy for this particular situation, "Don't be worried," he smiled at Sherlock, green eyes Sherlock would have found fascinating if not for the fact they were his, lighting up with joy, "but I don't intend to let you out of here,"

Sherlock watched as Moriarty slipped the key into his pocket,

"Ah," was the detective's tentative reply, a flash of slight fear running through him before he quelled it, realising fear was not going to help him at this moment,

Was anything?

"We'll have some fun, Sherlock," Moriarty made sure to keep eye contact with him, his voice already on a lower pitch than Sherlock was comfortable with "We'll have plenty of fun,"

And it was then, that Sherlock wished John hadn't made him watch all those Bond movies, because this was rather reminiscent of a several scenes in which a character died.

At least it'll be interesting for-

Sherlock stopped that thought before it had time to fully form

Shut up.

Royal Prince Alfred

Melbourne

Victoria

Australia

"What," John winced as pain stabbed his chest, then continued, "What do you mean you're just going to sit there?" he asked, the incredulous tone in his voice made all the more obvious because it was now quite loud, despite the fact that it hurt.

Mycroft looked the doctor straight in the eye, "It means we're going to let Sherlock find his own way out of this situation,"

"That's madness," The DI chipped in, coming round to the otherside and leaning on the bed, staring at Mycroft, seeing the same eyes that Sherlock had, but nothing else,

"No," The elder Homes adjusted his tie slightly, "It's not, because Sherlock has done this one too many times,"

"You're leaving him in the hands of a madman!" John's voice cracked with anxiety and Lestrade looked at him, lying a hand on his arm,

"Don't strain yourself," he muttered and John grimaced, wanting to bat away his hand, yet finding too much comfort in its presence, and then berating himself,

"Shut up," he muttered, then turned to Mycroft, "Sherlock will die!" he said and watched as the infuriating man shook his head,

"I doubt that very much,"

"How can you be so fucking flippant?" Lestrade growled and the man shrugged, as John felt his anger growing,

"I'm not." Mycroft looked between the two men, "All I'm saying is Sherlock needs to look after himself," John watched as a shadow crossed Mycroft's face, "too many people have died because of my younger brother," he added softly and both Lestrade and John exchanged a glance,

"What if," John started softly, and waited until Mycroft was looking at him, into those warm blue eyes that his younger brother could not and would not ever forget, "we want to die for him, because we see in him greater hope for this world?" John asked and Mycroft's eyes widened just a fraction,

"Look at you, John," he suddenly said, more force behind his words than he had originally intended, "You would not be in this position at all, if it wasn't for him," Mycroft wasn't even sure why he was talking them out of saving Sherlock. He loved him. He honestly didn't ever want anything to happen to him. Yet at the same time, he knew that the petulant child in the genius needed to learn that other people are affected by his actions, and that someone whom Mycroft found to be a truly good man, put his life on the line for him everyday.

"If it wasn't for him, I'd be bored to death on an Army pension, working at a clinic, wondering what my life was reduced to," John said and Lestrade looked over,

'If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't have met my best mate," he added and John looked up, a huge grin appearing,

"True," he added and they both chuckled. Mycroft sighed,

"Doesn't meant that it is right," he said and Lestrade rolled his eyes,

"Not the point." He played the cuff of his shirt, "Sherlock can be a right bastard, but we chose to come here and chose to give our lives. We made this choice Mycroft,"

"Something you don't necessarily understand," John added under his breath and both men, now staring at each other, ignored him. Lestrade did tell himself to get a grip as his eyes wanted to stray, and Mycroft ordered himself to focus on the conversation and not how much he really, really wanted to mess Lestrade's hair up.

Neither really managed and neither particularly found themselves caring, even as they proceeded with the argument.

"Sherlock asked and we followed because we wanted to, not because someone forced us, and we love him," Mycroft raised an eyebrow, but Lestrade kept going, "admittedly, all he does is drain my life, but I love him because he's so…" Lestrade looked at the doctor,

"Immature? Childish? Brilliant? Stupid? Beautiful? Smart? Eccentric?" John offered and even Mycroft split a small smile,

"Still," the man who was once described as the government looked about as tired as John felt,

"Still," John said and silence fell on the room, as something flew past the window, momentarily blocking the bright moonlight and bringing the three men out of their little bubble.

There was no movement in any of the corridors of the hospital, not even the nursing staff, sitting at the desks, occasionally going through a patients chart got up, keeping watch with the monitors instead.

The whole city of Melbourne, in fact, from St. Patrick's Cathedral towering into the night to busy Flinders' Street Station, was quiet and empty, resting before the busy day.

In private ward 85, John stared out at the city, so much darker and quieter than London, and wondered, briefly, how, exactly, they managed to end up in situations that always had them questioning what they were doing, with one of them missing because some nutter had taken that person, and one of them, usually, in hospital.

Fuck it

"Mycroft as your brother's fiancée, I ask you. Go and save him," John made sure to keep eye contact as Lestrade stared openly at him.

"Fiancée?" the DI looked at John, who didn't look back.

Mycroft, on the other hand, realised that John was not going to listen, and would very probably do himself rather a lot of damage should he try and get out of the bed himself.

"This is ridiculous," Mycroft muttered as he got to his feet, "But I'll do it, if you stay here and out of the way," Lestrade was about to protest when Mycroft raised his hand,

"Otherwise it will not happen," he said, "DI, this includes you," and with that, Mycroft swept out of the room, in his usual dramatic (pompous, Lestrade thought) fashion,

John waited for Greg to remember him and in another second, he did,

"Fiancée?" he asked, spinning around and resisting the urge to grab the doctor's shoulders.

John smiled broadly, realising that was not quite how he intended to tell Greg, "I proposed, he said yes," he said simply and this time, the DI did not feel as happy as perhaps he should have, as he did back in England when he had been told that they were going to be posing as a couple.

Strange things, feelings.

It is painfully short, I am aware. And I am sorry.

But at least the updates are closer together now, right?

:D
Aza

xx