All night Mary drank sparkling watee and Céline drank wine and lamented the men around them. Mary hadn't opened up to Céline about anything that happened with Sherlock but it felt good to listen to her vent about Mycroft.

"I just don't know." Céline slurred. "I argue with him about our future and what he sees and he storms out telling me to call him if I see us suited together? Did he even listen?"

"Sometimes when men get hurt they miss things. Mycroft and Sherlock seem particularly suited to an outburst like that after a conversation about the future."

"Oh god, I'm going to be sloshed tomorrow." Céline groaned, grabbing her head. She checked the clock. It was 1 am. "I have to be on campus at 8, I'm going to bed. You sleep here until you're rested enough to go home!" Mary hugged her friend goodnight and settled onto the couch. She spent some time thinking about everything going on with Sherlock and how scared she was for Watson to find out anything. After another hour lost in thought, Mary fell asleep.

The next morning when Céline left for campus Mary was gone, the blanket she used was folded neatly on the couch. Céline quickly filled her travel mug with tea and rushed out, catching a cab to make up for the lost time sleeping in. All-day she ignored the mess her love life was in and focused on lecturing. At lunch, she thought she was recovering and made a stop at the coffee shop. While she waited for her order the stack of newspapers a the front distracted her. Every single newspaper was exposing Sherlock's promiscuous relationship with Janine, the woman at Mary and John's wedding. Céline washed down two aspirin with her coffee to nurse her headache before afternoon classes began.

In another area of town, Sherlock was still stuck in the hospital bed. His bed was raised so he was sitting up with support, and he was hastily reading a stack of newspapers. The same ones Céline had spotted in the campus coffee shop. The door opened and he heard a voice.

"I'm buying a cottage, you know, I made a lot of money out of you mister." Janine slyly spoke. Sherlock frowned.

"You didn't give these to Magnussen did you?" Sherlock asked. Janine laughed.

"God no, one of his rivals." She explained. Sherlock nodded and went back to reading. She ripped the paper from his hand. "Sherlock Holmes you are a back-stabbing, heartless bastard. Why didn't I do it for you? It's that girl isn't it?"

"Céline isn't a girl." Sherlock matter of factly spoke. "She's twice the woman you'll ever be." A sudden rush of pain pulsed through him. He groaned. Janine had lowered his morphine with one of the taps.

"Dream come true for you, this place. They attach the drugs to you." She coldly spoke before storming out. Sherlock hit the call nurse button over and over again until a couple of nurses rushed in, checking his taps and fixing his dose.

Mycroft had been working all day. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep so right after his fight with Céline he went straight to work. Around six he decided to wind down. He had been in a bad mood the whole day and was sick of everyone around him. He decided to walk home to get some peace and quiet to think but his feet led him elsewhere. To 171 New Bond Street where the Harry Winston was. He wandered in and was greeted by a jeweler. An hour later he left. A bag in hand. It was almost dark out as he strolled. He checked his phone. Nothing. It was 8:30. He knew he would make it and caught a cab to the university. On the way in Mycroft ditched the bag and tucked a box away into his coat pocket. The argument had put everything into perspective for him.

Back when everything had happened with Irene. He remembered how that was the first time he admitted it to himself. When Céline was fooling around with Greg Lestrade, Mycroft disapproved but didn't say anything about it. He didn't know why he disapproved back then, but now he did. He remembered when he found out about her and Sherlock. Mycroft had begun to get wise with himself and decided to push her toward his brother to prevent any complications. He let Sherlock be Céline's hero. He let Sherlock save her from Moriarty when she was kidnapped. He let Sherlock be with her and the whole time he hated it and regretted it. All the time they were together he just watched Sherlock drain the life from her. He circled back to that night he knew. When Irene's 'body' was found.

Sherlock had just identified the body. Céline had stayed behind with Molly to do some paperwork for Scotland Yard. Sherlock was sitting outside, waiting for her. He had been watching a family of three who were grieving a family member. All three were sobbing and holding each other.

Mycroft had been watching his brother from the door for a long while. All he could think about was Céline and her PTSD medication. He couldn't understand Sherlock. He didn't know why he had brought her here to see Irene. How he didn't seem to care in the slightest. Mycroft was sure that Sherlock probably didn't even know what kind of medication they gave Céline. After a while, he joined his brother outside.

"Look at them. They all care so much. Do you ever wonder if there's something wrong with us?" Sherlock spoke. Mycroft watched him. He knew there was something wrong with both of them. Mycroft had been just as bad as Sherlock. He couldn't believe he had let his brother pursue her, just to treat her like he had.

"All lives end. All hearts are broken...I must say I didn't expect the two of you to last this long." Mycroft began. Sherlock didn't look at him or say anything. "I really like her, I do. But, perhaps it was a mistake of mine to advocate it so much..."

"You didn't make the decision for me. I made the decision the moment I saw her." Sherlock admitted. Mycroft nodded. He didn't know what else to say without giving himself away. After a moment to gather his thoughts he spoke again.

"It's getting serious, isn't it? That row you two had about Irene before she moved in with you. My sources say that you two spend a lot of time together in your bedroom, with the curtains drawn and the lights out..." Mycroft observed. He was jealous. "Irene even couldn't stop talking about how much she hated Céline. She mentioned it quite a bit to us in the last few months." The way Irene seethed over Céline made Mycroft realize. He was jealous of Sherlock in the same way Irene was jealous of Céline.

"I could care less what anyone thinks of Céline, I think she's..." Sherlock began but stopped himself. Mycroft observed him. His brother was in love. There was no doubt in Mycroft's mind.

"You think she's...what?" Mycroft pressed. Sherlock looked at him, but he didn't answer. "Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock," Mycroft snapped. He was desperate for it to end but Céline joined them and Sherlock stood to leave, taking her hand.

"Merry Christmas, Mycroft," Sherlock spoke. Mycroft looked from Sherlock to Céline and plastered a fake smile on his face.

"And a happy New Year," Mycroft replied. He was up the rest of the night pacing all over his house. He knew they were locked in his room, making love, whispering sweet nothings to each other. He hated it.

As Mycroft climbed the stairs to her classroom he vowed that he wouldn't let her go again. He wouldn't storm out after an argument. He wouldn't refuse a future. His pride wasn't worth it anymore.

Céline was wrapping up and going over the week's assignments with her evening class. As the end of class came she saw Mycroft slip in, taking a seat at the top of the lecture hall in the back row. Céline watched him, slowly packing up. A couple of students stayed behind to ask questions and Mycroft patiently waited for them to wrap up. When it was just the two of them in the hall he went down to her. Suddenly his stomach was in knots. He wasn't used to this. He had never been nervous before.

"I'm sorry," Mycroft spoke. "I shouldn't have been so accusatory." Céline took his hand and hugged him. Mycroft tightly embraced her back, burying his face into her neck.

"I'm sorry." Céline pulled away. "I shouldn't have been so eager to start a fight." Hand in hand they returned to Céline's flat.