For the first time since he had left, actually it would have been for a while before that too… he never slept while on a case, Sherlock had slept for the full night. Admittedly he had fallen asleep at around 1am, then awoken at 7am (which was less than the 8 hours John had always told him he needed) but it still very good. He had decided that he would start following John's advice and begin to sleep and eat at regular intervals.

Moriarty's file confirmed that he -'Richard Brook'- was now in Sweden, and that he had been travelling with not the journalist woman as Sherlock had expected but a man called Sebastian Moran, so when John woke up they were going to go find out exactly who he was. Then that would lead them to Moriarty, and now John was with Sherlock would be able to use John's credit card to buy train or plane tickets, and he would never be traced – he would reimburse John as soon as this was over.

John didn't wake up until around 10am, giving Sherlock enough time to plan what he would do (with subsequent plots for every eventually of how the day may go) but it didn't take him too long and he spent the rest of the time watching John sleep.

It was surprisingly interesting, most of the time John's face was very peaceful, but once his face had contorted as if he had been in an extreme pain. This seemed so real that Sherlock was about to wake him up, fearing it was something else cause by John's PTSD, but John just mumbled Sherlock's name then is face went back to a more peaceful state. Though now, his expression seemed to be angry and upset.

Sherlock had never really watched anyone sleep before, apart from Mycroft when they were younger but that had been part of an experiment, and he had been holding lit matches. Watching John like this made him more relaxed too.

As soon as he got up John declared he was 'starving' and was currently going through the cupboard in the apartment as the fridge was completely empty.

"That's it. I'm going out"

"John I have to stay here, rush hours only just over there will be people everywhere.."

"I know. You stay here. I'll go find a shop, it shouldn't take me long"

"There's one on the corner, be quick. Oh, and don't worry Mycroft has guards around" Sherlock said pulling John down for a quick kiss as he passed the sofa.

"Don't worry I will. Did you call him? I didn't think you wanted his help."

"I don't we would have been fine without them. He has cameras in here; I'll take them down while you're out"

"Okay. I should have known he'd be watching us again. Bye" he said then walked out of the door.

Sherlock immediately got up and began to take down the three cameras that Mycroft had placed in the living room; one of them also had a mic. Sherlock guessed that opening the door had set of some signal and that Mycroft, or one of his drones, was now watching. "Mycroft" Sherlock said to the empty air, looking straight down the camera.

Five minutes later Mycroft's plumish voice echoed around the apartment "You called, dear brother"

"Why didn't you tell me John had taken it this hard?" he almost growled, staring into the camera.

"It might put you back, put you in danger. And you know I always look after your wellbeing."

"You knew he might do something drastic. You even had more cameras installed"

"Yes, I was checking on him from time to time, it was easy to set up surveillance of 221B. You see I was afraid that if he did something unexpected that could affect you detrimentally whenever you found out"

"You need to tell me everything. How was he?"

"He rapidly fell into a deep depression. He slept a lot, didn't eat, never went out. He got fired from the surgery"

Sherlock had started to move around the apartment now taking down the rest of the cameras.

"Can you leave those Sherlock? It takes time to put those back in." Sherlock carried on now in the kitchen, ignoring him. Neither of them mentioned the way that Sherlock had got in. Mycroft knew of his brothers pickpocketing habits.

"He said that he was on compassionate leave? If you had mentioned it. I could have got back to him earlier. "

"He was for a while, but he took too long, according to the boss. I would have but you told me not to call you"

"I didn't mean regarding everything"

Mycroft sighed. "You're impossible Sherlock. I have to go"

"See you" Sherlock said, mocking Mycroft and pulled out the last camera, the one in the bedroom. (thankfully Mycroft had left the bathroom private).

Sherlock had just laid back down when John burst through the door, slightly out of breath.

"What is it, why were you running?"

"No…money card…wouldn't work. Left…stuff there"

"Even at the till?"

"Yes. "

"Here, go and get whatever it was" Sherlock stood up and handed him a bunch of notes.

"I won't need that much" he said handing all the money back apart from one £5 note and racing back out of the door.

Sherlock sat back on the sofa and turned on the television, which was concealed behind a wooden panel that could be opened with a remote. He flicked through the channels muttering "Dull" or "Boring" to everyone, occasionally pausing long enough to correct someone's grammar or, as many of the channels were now on breakfast TV, tell someone who their father was.

John was soon back, holding (rather predictably) a jar of jam and a loaf of bread. He walked into the kitchen and Sherlock followed "John could you do something for me?" he sat down on one of the stools at the breakfast bar.

"Why are you asking? You never usually ask you just order" he said opening the loaf and popping 4 slices into the toaster.

"Not good?"

"Yes, Sherlock. It's good, very good." And he leaned across the breakfast and rewarded Sherlock with a kiss, he then turned back around to boil the kettle. "What is it?"

"Could you go and get me my violin? And your laptop?"

"Why can't you use your phone?"

"It might be traced. I've been using Molly's"

"Molly? She knew?" John narrowed his eyes.

"What other 'helpful mortician' did you think that I was talking about?"

"Oh. Why didn't she say anything to me?"

"I told her not to. She's very nice to me"

"Still. She knew how I was feeling. She's supposed to be my friend."

"I asked her explicitly not to say anything. She found it hard. Didn't you notice her visits to you declined?"

"Yes. I thought I was just boring her." John's toast pooped up and he began spreading the jam on it.

If Molly had kept visiting John, she too would have been able to tell Sherlock how badly John had been doing.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes?" Sherlock leaned over and took half a slice of one of John's pieces of toast. John looked at him in surprise, but chose to avoid questioning him.

"You do know why she's nice to you right?"

"She wants to be friends with me."

"Not only friends" he said picking up his own slice of toast. "She fancies you Sherlock"

"Oh. Why?"

"You know for someone so incredibly intelligent you miss the most obvious things, love" he squeezed Sherlock's free hand, he had just eaten the last of the toast. "Really? Have you looked at yourself in a mirror?"

"Yes. But I don't see your point."

"As I said yesterday, you're beautiful"

The blood rushed up to Sherlock's face, he was blushing. Strange. Nothing ever made him blush. What was John doing to him?

"And so are you, love". Sherlock smiled up at John. "Sit down" he patted the stool next to him.

John looked so much better today, the lines of worry had gone from his face and his eyes were no held that expression of deep emotional torture.