Next chapter, again not great. Working my way back up to my usual standard. I don't know if there will be another before Christmas. Hopefully. If not, Merry Christmas! Or Happy Holidays!

John woke up the next day as he always did. He wiped the sleep from his eyes, he yawned and pulled his legs across the bed and into the plush brown slippers that waited beside it. He pulled on a warm, red dressing gown and stumbled towards the kitchen. It wasn't until the kettle was boiled and the tea poured that he was fully awake. And then he remembered.

The cup dropped from his hand and smashed onto the cream tiles of the kitchen floor. John jumped as droplets scattered across his legs. He cursed and moved to clean it up. Sherlock was alive. He was alive, he didn't kill himself to protect John. He survived and he was in London right now. And he was broken. And John was still angry at him..

"John? Is everything alright?"

John shook his head clearing it and finished sweeping up the shards of his teacup.

"Just dropped a cup Mary, I'm fine. Everything is fine." He brushed the pieces of the cup into the bin and opened the cupboard to take out two more. Mary's gaze softened and she wrapped her arms around John and held him close.

"Of course everything is fine." She pulled his cheek, receiving a smile in return, but she noted the red eyes and trembling hands. She took her cup as he offered it and headed towards the living room, gesturing for him to join her. He sat down beside her as she pulled her legs in and curled up against the arm of the couch.

"Talk to me John." She asked calmly, sipping her tea, her eyes filled with concern.

"There's nothing to talk about. Nothing at all."

"John last night you discovered that your best friend was still alive. That is not nothing." Not to mentioning everything else we found out later that night.

"I don't know if I can even call him my best friend anymore. Too much has changed. I mean, I'll probably see him again and get his side of the story, and I'll acknowledge what he's gone through but...in the end, he still lied to me." John didn't look at her as he spoke, sipping his tea in-between words.

"Oh John..." Can't you see he needs you? That you need him?

"I find it hard to trust people, he was the first person since I returned home from war that I befriended and trusted. But then he broke that trust. You can't just fix something like that. Not when breaking it meant faking your death and never telling your so called best friend. Even if he had noble reasons..." He still should have told me. Look what happened to him without me. The idiot.

Mary put her cup aside and hugged him. "You still care John, I know you do. And I know you and Sherlock will make amends somehow. The whole time I've known you, you've been missing something. I know what it is now. Sherlock."

"Mary.."

"No listen to me John. Sherlock may have done something you consider unforgivable, but he did it to save people. Even if he was foolish, his only desire was to keep you safe."

"That doesn't change how I feel. I can't just turn that on and off like he does!"

"But he doesn't, he just buries it. John, he's already broken, are you going to make things worse by rejecting his renewed offer of friendship, if it comes?"

John sighed. That's right, make me feel guilty. I still feel hurt.

"It's not like I will cut ties with him forever, we just won't be as close as we once were. How can we be?"

"I don't know John..." But you will be, I'll find a way.

Sherlock's morning wasn't quite as eventful. He awoke clutching his chest, just like in his dream. But instead of a frozen heart, he held a very angry kitten. Who showed his displeasure by trying to growl and hitting Sherlock's nose, before jumping off the bed in a huff. Sherlock frowned and pulled the bedcovers over his head. It was far too early to be up and about after such an eventful night. Milton disagreed, crying loudly for his dinner. The detective groaned. Surely someone else would hear the cat and feed him. But no one came.

"Shut up!" Milton stopped crying and stared at his owner in shock. He trembled and hid under the couch.

"Oh for goodness sake." Sherlock slowly got out of bed and knelt down to look under the couch.

"Come out of there I'll feed you, alright? Can't have anyone else hearing me shout and find out I didn't feed you. Or that I yelled at a kitten." Milton continued to tremble.

"I'm sorry, alright? Please... don't be afraid, I'm not going to hurt you." Sherlock reached under the couch only to receive a small scratch across his hand.

"I probably deserved that. Fine stay under there then." The detective decided to feed the cat instead and hoped that would draw him out. It did. Satisfied, he went back to bed. Ten minutes later the door opened.

"Good morning brother dear!" Mycroft opened the curtains, letting the sun's light fill the room. Just what I need, light, grumbled Sherlock to himself.

"Rise and shine. Breakfast is ready." Sherlock felt long hands attempt to remove the blankets from covering his face.

"I'm not hungry." The detective mumbled from beneath the bound of sheets and blankets.

"That's just too bad because you are eating this. You are still too thin for my liking. Up, right now Sherlock. Oh so help me I will make Miss Adler wake you."

Sherlock pulled the covers back. "You wouldn't dare."

"Desperate times call for desperate measures, Sherlock. Now sit on the couch and eat."

Sherlock glared at his older brother and pulled himself out of bed and onto the couch, grumbling under his breath. Lousy Mycroft, waking me up when I need a decent amount of sleep after last night. Not even hungry. Why doesn't he just eat it? Stupid fat git. It was cereal, not even something he liked. Was he trying to make Sherlock miserable? He took one spoonful and then pushed the bowl away.

"Done."

"Sherlock."

"You eat it then."

"I have had my breakfast. Now eat. We have things to discuss."

Fine but I'll eat as slow as possible, draw it out as long as I can. And then you will be called away and I will crawl back into bed. I'm not in the mood to be lectured.

He stuck the spoon back in his mouth, while simultaneously flipping his finger at Mycroft, who only raised his eyebrow.

I don't need this right now Mycroft..