Chapter Five

John was pale against the white hospital sheets, and looked terribly vulnerable to Sherlock's masterful eye. The tube in his mouth forced his jaw down, so his face was the wrong shape, and the IV line carrying the anti-convulsant drugs looked alien in John's arm. Sherlock shuddered as he took in the sight. Slowly, he walked forwards towards John's bed, thankful that Will Meyer was sticking close behind him. Kneeling down beside the bed, Sherlock reached out a careful hand and brushed the sweaty hair on John's forehead out of the way.

With his thumb, Sherlock rubbed gentle circles into John's exposed temple. He thought back to two years ago when he'd pointed a loaded gun at that very same temple to make John look like a hostage, in order to escape custody. Again, this had been done to protect John, because it looked as if he had been forced to go AWOL, rather than doing so willingly, as had actually been the case. However, the look of shock on John's face when he had first seen the barrel of the gun pointed at his head was burned into Sherlock's mind. He vowed never to put a gun anywhere near John ever again, even if it was under a guise of protection.

After several minutes of silence, Will gently placed a hand on Sherlock's shoulder. "He's going to be okay, Sherlock. You need to rest now."

Sherlock bowed his head a little and sighed, but eventually nodded his head wearily. He squeezed John's free hand carefully and then slowly got to his feet. A spare bed had been brought into John's room and was set parallel to his bed, about a metre and a half away. Absently, Sherlock allowed himself to be led over to the bed, and at Will's gentle word, he slowly tucked his long, thin frame under the covers. As his head hit the pillow, he sighed, and rolled over so that he was facing John's still form. With half-lidded eyes, he looked up at Will questioningly.

Will gave a small smile; he'd never seen Sherlock quite like this before. Of course, he'd seen Sherlock ill and weak and vulnerable over the two years they'd spent chasing Moriarty, but never before had Will seen Sherlock look so desperate for assurance and comfort. He nodded to Sherlock's silent question. "I'm not leaving here for even a second. John will never leave my sight, and nor will you, so go to sleep."

Sherlock sleepily glanced in John's direction again before allowing his eyes to slip closed. It took only a few minutes for his breathing to deepen and even out, and for his body to go limp against the mattress.

Turning to the door, Will silently waved Mycroft in and pulled up a chair between the two beds. Mycroft entered the room silently and sat in a chair beside Will. It was some time before either man spoke, and the silence was filled only with the sound of heavy breathing, and of life-saving machinery whirring away.

"You handle my brother expertly, Meyer."

Will looked over to check that Mycroft was being genuine. He was. "Thank you, sir. I got to know him quite well over the two years we spent together."

"Indeed so. Tell me, how much do you know about John Watson?"

Will frowned. All he knew about John had come from Mycroft himself, so surely Mycroft was already aware of the answer. Was it a test? Unlike Sherlock, Will found Mycroft incredibly difficult to assess, causing him to always be slightly on edge around his boss. He supposed that must have been Mycroft's intended effect.

"I know he's Sherlock's best, possibly only, friend. They were flatmates before Sherlock and I went away, and John was good for Sherlock. Of John himself, his character, mannerisms, likings, I know very little; he was in the army, has impeccable medical skills, and knows how to use a handgun." Will sighed and ran his splayed hands down his thighs. "That's about it. Is there anything else I should know, sir?"

"About John himself at this time, no, except that he would die for Sherlock in a heartbeat, which makes him both unpredictable and dangerous; or, I should say, liable to find himself in danger. However, there is something else you need to know about, which must not at any cost become known to either Sherlock or John until I personally deem the time right." Mycroft looked sternly at Will, even though he knew his best agent was entirely trustworthy.

"I understand, sir. What is it?"

Mycroft waited for several seconds, and then closed his eyes for a moment before speaking. "I have reason to believe that Moriarty is still alive."

Will blinked and whispered the words his boss had just uttered under his breath. "No. That's…It's not…right. We were sure, sir. Sherlock was certain he was dead, and that his entire 'web' had been destroyed."

"You were wrong, both of you. Moriarty lives on, like Lazarus." Mycroft raised his eyebrows ever so slightly.

"Why? How do you know he's still out there?" And a moment later. "He's after Sherlock again, isn't he? John's accident wasn't an accident at all; it was a distraction."

"As ever, Meyer, you impress me. On both accounts, I believe you are correct. Moriarty has been leaving Sherlock…messages, shall we say, to entice him into danger. John had to be removed from the equation, and Sherlock needed to be weakened. Once again, Moriarty has outwitted us."

"What messages? Why haven't you sent me after him, sir? This time I'll make sure he dies, and stays dead." A fierce and deadly light flared in Will's eyes like a newly-kindled flame. It wasn't unlike the light Sherlock's eyes took on when he heard about a new murder, Mycroft thought.

"Meyer, you know as well as I do that you cannot go after Moriarty alone. Even with Sherlock by your side, the challenge you did - and will have to take on again - will be immense. For that reason, I have devised a new plan of action. It is not to be changed or dismissed, and it must work, Meyer, because I believe it to be our best and only hope of destroying Moriarty for good." Mycroft paused dramatically and look at Will.

"I'll do whatever you ask, sir. What is the plan?" Will sat forward in his chair, and glanced at Sherlock, to check he was definitely still asleep.

"Once John has recovered, I will be sending you, along with Sherlock and John, on Moriarty's trail. Together, you will follow my instructions and do whatever it takes to bring Moriarty down." Again, Mycroft paused. He looked between John and Sherlock's sleeping forms, blinking a little more than usual, and then returned his gaze to Will. "You must be aware that this mission could kill all three of you. I will take as many precautions as possible, but unfortunately no expense can be spared in the destruction of James Moriarty."

Once again, Will was stunned. Mycroft was actually willing to sacrifice his little brother in order to take down this criminal. The previous mission had been dangerous, but neither Sherlock nor Mycroft had expected it to be something which would end in death. This time, however, Mycroft's grave words and demeanour sent an entirely different message.

"I know what I signed up for, sir." Will said eventually. "I will try my best to protect Sherlock and John, and I will insure that Moriarty doesn't escape us this time."

Mycroft gave a tight smile, but he said nothing in response.

The silence stretched out for two hours before Mycroft eventually left. Will remained vigilant in the hospital room. He looked between the two sleeping men. One was a dark haired, gangly man with a keen mind and a sharp eye for detail that rivalled even his boss. The other was a sandy haired man with a short by strong-looking build, but at that moment, he looked wholly unsuitable and unprepared for the most-likely-fatal mission he was about to take on.

Anderson stalked into St George's Hospital just after 11 o'clock at night. He used his hood to shield his face from the security cameras on the outside of the building. Anderson wasn't entirely sure why he did it, because, as he told himself over and over, he wasn't doing anything illegal, but was simply visiting a…colleague who had recently been involved in a car crash.

After speaking to a receptionist, it didn't take him long to find his way to the hospital room where John was staying. Anderson was almost put-off by the fact that it was in the ICU, but decided that Sherlock needed to hear what was happening, even if John was on the brink of death.

Through the glass panel in the door to the room, Anderson could see two beds side-by-side, with an empty chair between them. He was mildly surprised, because he'd never seen Sherlock do anything as normal as lying in a bed, as he was now. Carefully, Anderson looked both ways in the corridor, and finding it empty, he silently pushed the door open and set foot in the room.

I'm back now. Thanks for all your reviews and follows while I've been away. The next chapter is already half written and should be up in a couple of days :)