A/N: I'M DROWNING IN MY OWN FEELS I'M SO SORRY FRIENDS. I didn't intend for this to get as sad and depressing as it's turned out, :(
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing in this story. Please don't sue me!
"This is ridiculous," he hissed into the disposable cell phone he held to his ear.
"It's our only option," Mycroft replied, sounding just as irritated. "Do you really think, if we had any other choice, that I'd allow you to go in there, alone?"
Sherlock opened his mouth, intending to say something caustic, then shut it. "No," he said, grudgingly. "I suppose not."
"Good. Do be careful, brother dear." The line went dead.
He took a deep breath, then tossed the phone into the woods and made his way into the thicket of trees.
When he staggered into the helicopter Mycroft sent later that night, he was shaking all over. The sun was peeking over the horizon, and though he was bone tired, the adrenaline spiking in his veins kept him from sleep. Instead, he frantically pulled a notepad and pen out of his coat pocket and started to write.
John,
I know where Moran is. He almost killed me, but he didn't. God I need to sleep.
I'm shaking so hard I can barely hold the pen but I need to tell you how badly I want to come home. How badly I need to come home.
As much as I complained about boredom with no cases back in London, I'd trade the past 3 years of constant work for just one hour of peace and domesticity.
It's snowing here now. As foolish as it seems, it does make me think of Christmas and of wishes coming true. I only have one wish, and if I wished any harder I'd collapse.
My one wish is be home, with you, by Christmas.
Sherlock
A/N: Short one and a day late, I'm sorry! Thank you for reading! Please review and...
DFTBA darlings, :)