3. When it comes to it, I'll admit I never waited for this to happen

Mycroft is, whatever Sherlock wants to say, very concerned about Sherlock. So when John Watson had appeared, he'd been careful with the men, collecting data. He'd been glad with what he'd seen. And surprised when he'd realised just who Dr. Watson was.

And when John had asked if he could tell Sherlock the truth, he'd thought only for a few seconds before saying yes.

Now he's talking to John, who's asking for help.

"I know you must have some kind of proof," John says.

Mycroft sighs. "Of course I have. But I thought he believed you already."

John licks his lips and stares at Mycroft. "You know how he is. He needs proof. Even if he does want to believe me, he can't, because it's only my word." He looks thoughtful for a moment. "Though I'm surprised with him even wanting to believe me."

"Well, he has shown much affection towards you, so I don't think it's that surprising," Mycroft says wryly and types something on his computer. "Very well. I'll have a package sent at Baker Street. It should be enough to convince even Sherlock. If it doesn't convince him, the only thing that could would be to take him to see for himself."

"But we don't want to do that, now, do we?"

"No. So do try to make him believe, will you, John?" Mycroft smiles and John shudders.

"Of course."

It's late and John hasn't come back. Sherlock is looking at the photographs and videos the package contained and he really wants to ask John about it all. It seems so real, and he really needs to know John's point of view. Needs to know if the John in the video is real.

So when John comes home, Sherlock looks at him and says: "I got a package and there was a video of you."

John hangs his coat and walks to Sherlock. "I didn't know he had any material from there. But I shouldn't be surprised since it's Mycroft. Do you believe me, now?"

"Answer my questions."

"Yeah, alright," John says and sits next to Sherlock on the sofa so he'll see what Sherlock's looking at.

And Sherlock begins with deductions that soon change into questions like "What was the best way to kill a zombie?", "Did you like it?", "That's Molly's sister, isn't it?" (though the last one is more of a statement than a question).

John answers him. "A hit to the head. That's how I learned to shoot." "No, not really. I didn't like the war, either, even if I do miss it." "Yes, it is."

With every answer, Sherlock finds more questions and John really shouldn't be surprised that when he looks at the time, it's already half past three. But he is.

"I need to go to bed. I have a morning shift tomorrow," John says and gets up. "We'll continue tomorrow, okay?"

Sherlock nods, frowning at the pictures, then at John.

When John leaves, he thinks he hears Sherlock muttering to himself. "How does one solve a puzzle that has already been solved for them?" and he wonders what Sherlock means.

It's a boring day at the clinic. Sarah keeps giving John weird looks and he confronts her at lunch break.

"What is it?" he asks her and she laughs.

"Your boyfriend came by a couple of days ago, asking about zombies."

"Oh."

Sarah stares at him. "Oh?"

"Well, what else am I supposed to say?"

Sarah huffs and turns to leave. She quips over her shoulder: "I see you didn't deny him being your boyfriend."

"What good would it do? No one believes me anyway."

(Their break-up hadn't been that clean, but they try, because he's a good doctor and she did [does] like him. He would appreciate her as a friend, but it's probably too much asked. Maybe some day, he thinks, maybe when she gets over it.)

"We have a case!" Sherlock says, running between the walls. John stares at him, then the walls and sighs. "Oh don't be like that."

"You've ruined our walls."

"I haven't! I've just covered them with pieces of paper, easily removed."

John rolls his eyes before he walks into the kitchen to make some tea. "So what's the case then?"

Sherlock grins, John knows even if he doesn't see. "Triple homicide in a house locked from inside. The parents' skulls had been broken and someone had bitten the daughter."

John nearly drops the teapot. "Bitten?"

"Yes. Pieces of her were missing."

"I can't believe this is happening," John says when he comes to living room. He looks at the pictures, hums, and then nods. "Make them check her parents. They've probably been dead longer than the daughter. Quite easy, this case. Not that anyone will believe."

Sherlock frowns and starts taking the photos and papers of the walls.

"I need to call Mycroft," John says, leaving Sherlock to it.