"Greg... I'm still waiting." After watching Sally and Lestrade stare at him in slightly awed shock, John uncrossed his arms and strode over to grab a chair from beside the shut door. He plonked it down unceremoniously behind Sherlock, took hold of his elbow and forced him down into the chair.

"sit."

Sherlock, wide eyed and too flustered to put up an ounce of fight, sank bonelessly down until he was slumped in the cold, cheap plastic. He unthinkingly reached out and grasped johns hand, squeezing it slightly to caution the doctor. He let go surreptitiously and was surprised yet glad when John reached to take hold of his shoulder and left it there. Lestrade gazed at the two men in front of him, strangely proud of them. John had always known how to handle Sherlock, and Sherlock had always known when to back down with him, something he had never done or been able to understand with anyone else. In a way he was calmed by this. Seeing the brave front the both of them put up reassured him that nothing would endanger their relationship, certainly not Moriarty. They were perfect for each other, he thought, and knew that Sherlock had now become a good man, not just a great one. He gave a grim smile and readied himself for whatever would happen next. Just as he was about to start on his revised speech, Sally -of course- had to jump in and spoil things.

" well, you've chosen a great time to become unobservant, fr- Sherlock. Go on, have a look around and deduce it. Then maybe you can tell that soldier of yours to back down for one minute, so that we can continue our jobs of baby sitting you two clowns. God sake we're trying to help you here!"

John bristled slightly but became more worried with each passing second. Neither of the two officers wanted to spit out what was happening, and the stray glances that hit throughout every part of the room except to Greg's upper left, and, incidentally, his and sherlock's eyes were speaking volumes to him. Just as he was about to man up and look at what must be the television screen, Sherlock jumped under his hand as if he'd been electrocuted.

"Oh!..."

Sherlocks first reaction was to be kind of... Dissatisfied. Disappointed almost. Was that all this was? Why were they making such a big deal out of it? So what, it was an image of the two of them at 221B, sat on the sofa like any normal night. It was paused at a point with John looking earnestly at him, elbows resting lightly on his ripped-jean clad knees. His hands were under his chin, fisted to hold it up so he could look into Sherlocks eyes. He himself had an almost shy hint to his countenance, dashed with some crazed look in his eye that spoke of a storm of his once-thought-stupid feelings raging through his mind palace. His one hand was clutching the end of his shirt, worrying creases into the silk material that looked- what? Damaged? The other was grasping John's wrist, looking like he was hanging on achingly tight. Except... Wait... No. No.

Sally sat back smugly and waited for the penny to drop. Even though she felt sorry for them, it didn't mean she couldn't get some enjoyment out of winding them up and watching their reactions play out. This was going to be good, she thought as scenarios ran throughout her head. Her favourite so far was Sherlock shutting down completely, his vocabulary being reduced to keyboard smash letters, and the army man fainting from the shock. It was all a bit of fun, wasn't it? Nothing serious would come of it, just an embarrassment waiting for all of them. The less Sally thought about that, the better. Lestrade was once again muted, there was no point in trying to prevent this train wreck from occurring. To be honest, it was easier for him if Sherlock just figured it out, no more stuttering and looking like a fool in front of him. He watched sympathetically as Sherlock reacted and john stared down at him like he always did, a slight, affectionate tilt to the head that said: go on, you git, tell me what you deduced now. After his initial (what Lestrade liked to call his deduction gasp) sound of enlightenment, Sherlocks face morphed into an array of configurations, ranging from confusion, derision and then a slightly horrified look as he paled with each passing moment.

The little room holding the four of them held its breath and waited until someone broke the tense silence. The four walls looked on in pity as the blonde shortish one grew steadily scared at the sight of the pallid cheeks on what must be his partners face. Friends didn't look at each other like that, did they? They could see his thin lips moving, no sound accompanying them, as he mouthed a silent question.

Sherlocks deductions steadily grew, an avalanche that threatened to crush him completely. It was like earlier, but a hundred, thousands, times worse. His ears were ringing slightly with the deafening silence that surrounded him physically, whilst mentally his mind clamoured with cymbals and car crashes, a secret meeting a midnight encounter a false betrayal an explosion a surge of water a gasp oh god please no john-
A loud slap rang through out the room as John snapped his partner out of his growing hysteria, the doctor part of him coming to the forefront and giving him an unnatural calm.

"Sherlock... Sherlock, I need you to take some deep breaths for me, okay? That's it, in through your nose and out your mouth, just like we practiced. Lestrade, get me some water for him. Sally, come here and try and uncurl his fingers, he'll make his palms bleed otherwise."

As john slapped him, Sherlock suddenly resurfaced from the overwhelming mire of his head to find that he was on the verge of a slight panic attack. This wasn't the first time this had happened. Too much data, mixed with a load of feelings chucked on him tended to cause his mind to need a slight reboot. This was why he refused point blank to take the tube, no matter how much john had complained. He now knew better, after they had been forced down there for case. That was the first time john had seen this reaction, only one and a half months into living with each other, which he had handled with surprising skill.

He directed his mind outwards to observe what was going on. John was knelt in front of him, his hands bracketing his own face and fingers slightly stroking the ridge of his zygomatic arches as he talked him through breathing. It must have been at least a minute since he had last actually been able to see beyond the cacophony occurring in his skull. Sally's reaction surprised him. She was looking at him worriedly (for her) as he came back, her hands holding his wrists tightly as she counted out his pulse which was just starting to slow. He could see by the indents made in her fingers and the barely there pale pressure marks that she had pried apart his fisted hands. Lestrade had his back to him, filling a tiny plastic cup with the bottle of water that always adorned the DIs desk.

He couldn't stand it. They thought that he was weak, that he had panicked because of them knowing about John and himself. Their stupidity would have disgusted him, but he could deduce that john was also doubting himself, that he thought that all his worst imaginings had become true and Sherlock would just shut down on him and show him the door.

He needed to stop this. Now.

"Would all of you just SHUT UP! Don't move, don't think, you're all WRONG."

John could feel that his calm would desert him, as soon as Sherlock had opened his eyes from their scrunched position and he saw that brilliant brain come back on line. He had reacted instinctively, quickly, a medic on the battlefield as shells and IEDs exploded all around him. Now he had time to think, and that in his mind was a bit not good. As Sherlock had hyper ventilated in front of him, John had to see the screen. Was it Moriarty standing over the dead body of one of their few friends? Was it footage of a kidnapping?

No.

John recognised it immediately, that memory embedded deep where he could never forget it.

The start of them. The start of sherlockandjohn.

He fell on his arse with a cry of alarm as Sherlock shouted and sprung from his seat like a maniac jack in the box, his long limbs still managing to look elegant.

" DONT YOU SEE!? DONT YOU ALL GET IT!? Moriarty knows. John is in even more danger now because of me, just because I have chosen him. He's got cameras everywhere, documenting our every move, watching. John, get up and help me look, you know my methods by now!"

John felt like he would get physical whiplash from just watching Sherlock pace a flaming line into the floor, and emotional from how his expectations of Sherlocks reaction were widely off base.

"...what? Sherlock I don't..."

"John don't be an idiot. use that brain of yours I know that you have, I wouldn't love you if you were part of the drooling mass that makes up this godforsaken planet."

He was dreaming, he must be. Sherlock had just said he loved him, albeit slightly rudely, but none the less. In front of the others. He said it in front of the others. God what was going on? He tried to think from Sherlocks point of view, the one where his own stupid insecurities did not play a part. Well... Moriarty now for definite knew John was his weakness. Yeah, that was slightly disconcerting. What else? Well, John thought with horror and a sort of sick mortification, Moriarty had infiltrated 221B, their sanctuary, the only real place that they could let their relationship blossom and grow. He had cameras at least in the entrance hallway and their living room. Oh god... John got off of his bum and jumped up, ready for action. He could analyse his own feelings about this sudden coming out later.

"Cameras. You two, close your mouths and help us look for the cameras, there must be some in this room, Moriarty loves to play games. He's probably watching us right now and we're putting on his favourite a show."

Sherlock grinning at him happily, his eyes shinning as he watched John's thought processes. He understood. And he hadn't even had to give the disgustingly mushy speech he had been saving for this moment... In fact, he may just have to as a reward to his clever John.

He bounded over to him and revelled in the wide eyed look John gave him seconds before he kissed him enthusiastically yet chastely on the lips, hands framing his face.

"YES! John you're brilliant! You check over there in that quarter," at this he gave a smack to John's firm arse to get him moving. John gave a surprised yelp: he had always wanted to do that.

Still grinning slightly, he turned to the still gob smacked man at the desk.

"Lestrade, once you've recovered you admittedly pea sized brain, check in that corner and all around your desk. We're looking for anything suspicious, anything out of place. Even if it's a bloody pen you don't recognise, I want you to inform me."

Greg didn't think that Holmes could surprise him anymore, not after five years of knowing him. As always, he thought wrong. Once he had recovered, he grimaced and began his search, methodically sweeping the place with his eyes first and then running his hands over every surface he came across. Whilst he did that, he heard Sherlock order Sally around using thinly veiled insults as usual. The fact that Sally did not argue back just showed how far her state of shock had gone.

"Sherlock, I can't find anything, there's nothi-"

his hand came across a slight bump hidden in a divot of his desk.

"Wait... I think I got something here..."

His fingers scrambled to get under the raised surface, picking at the tiny, double sided adhesive strip that he could feel. It gave just as his nail began to splinter and he cursed slightly under his breath. He stood up on creaky legs that had seen better days: not getting any younger, he moaned at himself.

"Would ya look at that... Sherlock, I think I have an audio bug here. Bloody tiny thing."

He placed it on the ground and stomped on it in disgust, without Sherlock having to tell him. Sherlock gave him a small nod. There was no point keeping it to try and get a placement on Moriarty, the mastermind would have planned for all outcomes, no matter how arrogant he seemed. He had also found an audio device, and two cameras that had been placed in expert hiding places. For once Sherlock was glad that his brother had a perchance for spying: it had taught him everything to know about bugging devices and where to place them. They rotated around several times so they all got a chance to look in the same area.

Sherlock was not taking any chances.

At the end of the search, a surprising amount had been found, the floor littered with crushed circuitry. Even Sherlock looked taken aback by the sheer number. He was sure that they had got all of them, but if they hadn't, well, they had done all they could. They all gravitated to the centre of the room, standing in a loose circle apart from where Sherlock brushed shoulders and hands unconsciously with John.

"Hey f-Sherlock, you think that's all of them? He seems like even more of a psychopath than you, and that's saying something."

Sally had a perfectly shaped eyebrow raised at him, although she wasn't look at him in the face. She was staring at where their hands slightly touched, where Sherlock had curled a finger around John's thumb. She still wasn't sure whether this was one huge joke or not, although even she thought that she would have to be the biggest idiot in the world to not believe their love for each other. It was just... She could not merge this Sherlock with the one that resided in her head. In there, he was a cruel man who was too clever for his own good, a junkie looking for his next big fix. Whether or not that fix lead to murder, Sally was positive that some day it would have. But... Since John, that view had changed. In the last couple of months, it had been changed again, as Sally had seen the freak almost be... Happy. And wow, that was a huge concept right there. Sherlock, happy in someone else's company? Ridiculous.

It didn't seem ridiculous anymore.

Because she could see it. See the way that they just... Fitted. It shouldn't work. Sherlock was a cold, almost skeletal man who radiated the kind of posh, up his own arse beauty that would not look out of place on the catwalk. He had the arrogance to match it and all. He was a super genius, not caring about people, only taking cases for the thrill of the chase and the more gruesome the better. John was warm, full muscled and short, and where Sherlock was beautiful he was cute, the guy next door. John was so caring about peoples health, yes he enjoyed the cases but he was always there for the victim, dead or alive. They were polar opposites, the love of danger and their dark humour the only thing they seemed to have in common. It was like they were the sun and the moon, Sally thought. Sherlock was warmed by John's presence, and seemed to glow from his praises since the very first case. John was enhanced by Sherlock, and when he needed to step back and stop caring so much in order to think, Sherlock would dim his brightness, but never extinguish it.

And here was another thing that Sally had to come to terms with: she was jealous.

Not of their situation, oh god no, they could keep that. Not of one or the other, she wasn't carrying a secret torch for the men. It was them. Why couldn't she find someone? Sherlock had a boyfriend. Sherlock. And she couldn't even keep an adulterating bastard from breaking up with her. Where was her other half? The sun to her moon?

Sherlock watched as all of this crossed Donovan's face, and couldn't help but feel sorry for her alongside the smugness. But, this was all getting off topic: Moriarty was back and they were standing here ruminating about his and John's relationship. He could see easily that they had questions, hell even John had questions of him. The other two would surely find out the answers to theirs soon. He couldn't help but feel a flutter of sickness down in his gut. If his deductions were correct... Then, well, he and John were in for the most mortifying day of their existence. Donovan and Lestrade would not react this dramatically to just one video of them where all they did was talk, cry and hug.

There had to be more to this, and Sherlock for once did not want to find out.