It was early morning and John was woken up by the pleasant feeling of Sherlock's hand gently stroking his belly. And the slightly disturbing sound of a conversation going on just above his head. Please, please let Sherlock be talking to Morris (the skull). John opened his eyes and immediately felt a blush creeping over him. Mycroft Holmes was perched on the foot of the bed drinking tea from a Finn McMissile mug. Mycroft had a serene expression on his face, as though it was perfectly normal to have a conversation with your little brother whilst he fondled his boyfriend.

"It is of National Importance that we get that skeleton back. Oh good morning John, sorry to disturb you. "

"It's a Skeleton of a Dinosaur. How Nationally Important can it actually be?"

"Donald has been in the Museum for years."

"What about Mike?" John struggled into the sitting position. "The security guard? Why does no one care about Mike? He fought for his country and that's the thanks he gets. Everyone is more concerned about a bloody Diplodocus."

Sherlock placed a comforting hand over John's damaged shoulder and squeezed gently. John really wished he was wearing trousers. Or at least underwear. Righteous indignation was so much more difficult when you were naked.

"Mr Jones' death is of course tragic and regrettable. His wife and children will be looked after, as a reflection of the country's gratitude for his sacrifice."

"Sacrifice?" Sherlock sat a little further up on the pillows. "So Mike Jones wasn't an ordinary security guard. Which is why the curator didn't really know who he was? He was brought in to guard something specific. Special Services Mycroft? What was he guarding?"

"I can't tell you. But this comes from the absolute highest authority. You must find that dinosaur. Whatever the cost."

"What about the missing bit of the other dinosaur?" John was trying to ignore the view of Mycroft's highly polished Oxfords two inches away from his Kermit the Frog boxer shorts on the floor.

"Yes that is a worry. We should of course like that back as well. Sherlock? Don't let me down. Good day." Mycroft slipped from the room.

xxxxxxx

"Oh aren't you a beautiful lovely thing? If only I could extract some DNA from you. I might just get used to parenting!" Moriarty danced happily around his newly reconstructed Diplodocus. Clapping his hands together and grinning from ear to psychotic ear. The dinosaur grinned back at him, obviously enjoying the change of scenery.

For James Moriarty it had been love at first sight. On that School trip to the Museum when he was seven. He had told Donald that one day he would come back for him. And he had done. He hugged Donald's front left leg; there were no teachers or snotty security guards to tell him he couldn't touch. Not here. No signs saying "Do Not Climb on the Dinosaurs". No one could tell James Moriarty what to do. He was invincible!

xxxxxxxx

Sherlock pushed his uneaten pancake onto John's plate whilst John was making more coffee. John wouldn't notice. John was a little preoccupied, which was never a good thing, except for the disposal of unwanted breakfast. Sure enough John sat down and began to chew thoughtfully on the pancake without even noticing.

"What?" He noticed Sherlock smirking at him.

"Nothing. I was just wondering how you came to your diagnosis last night Doctor."

"The look on his face. It was fear. It's not something you can really explain. But fear has a smell, a taste. I've seen it before. Smelt it, tasted it..." Sherlock crouched down in front of John, looking deep into his eyes.

"Of course. Of Course. John you're brilliant." Sherlock grabbed John's face in both hands and kissed him. "Get some trousers on. We need to check the security guards office."