"John? John!" Mary appeared in the study doorway, flushed and breathless. "Charlie's at the door, he says we're needed urgently at Mycroft's rooms!"
"Mycroft's?" Watson hesitated in the act of reaching automatically for his medical bag. "And... both of us? Is it about Holmes?"
"He wouldn't say, but... oh, John, I think it must be for Sherlock, the poor boy looks terrified!"
Watson was already hurrying along the hall to the open front door, where the Irregular anxiously shifted from foot to foot, a four-wheeler waiting on the street below. "Charlie, what's happened? No, never mind, you can explain on the way. Mary, do come on, love!"
"I'm coming!" Mary came out, wearing her cloak and carrying her husband's hat and coat. "I had to tell Sarah not to prepare dinner for us. Let's go."
"...an' the Inspector was jus' 'eadin' over when I left, 'e looked pretty sick, too! 'E called out when 'e saw me, but I couldn' stop jus' then, could I?"
"Lestrade's there, too, you say?" No doubt in response to recent events, but the Inspector surely couldn't think Holmes responsible for what had happened! "Well, I'm sure Mycroft's told him to expect us." Watson just wished he had any light of his own to shed on the matter! Poor Holmes... Witnessing such a ghastly murder, close enough to get a faceful of gore – that would be enough to turn even the strongest stomach! But Holmes's reaction... There had to be much more to such an extreme withdrawal... Something to do with Moriarty's visit, perhaps? Heaven only knew what the Professor might have said to his friend between those four walls; the knives that devil could so easily have twisted in the great heart with his serpent's tongue...
"John?"
Watson started as Mary took laid a hand on his knee, only then realising how tightly he was gripping the handle of his medical bag. He took her hand in his with a rueful smile – she looked as concerned as he felt. He didn't know whether to be relieved or alarmed that Mycroft had requested his wife's presence as well... but Mycroft never did anything without a damn good reason.
Charlie dashed up the steps ahead of them as they alighted from the cab, but the front door was opened by Lestrade before he could reach for the bell.
"Doctor. Ma'am. Good to see you."
Watson fancied he could detect fresh lines on the Inspector's face. "How is he?"
His heart sank as Lestrade shook his head grimly. "Hasn't said a word since the boys brought him in. I've never seen him like this, Watson, not on his worst days with the needle. I don't think he knows where or even who he is! D'you think you can...?"
"Well, Mycroft seems to think so," Watson attempted to answer cheerfully. "And far be it from me to argue with the greatest intellect in the Empire!"
Lestrade managed half a smile. "He's upstairs, guest bedroom. Mycroft's with him. And Wiggins is in the kitchen, young man, which is where you're going!" he added sternly, snagging Charlie by the collar as the boy attempted to slink past him and up the stairs. "The staff could use some extra hands with all these people to feed!"
"The Inspector's right, Charlie dear," Mary said gently as the boy scowled, twisting out of Lestrade's hold. "Wiggins needs you most just now. We'll call you if there's any change, I promise."
Charlie muttered something inaudible, wiping his nose on his sleeve, and stomped off.
"Ah, Doctor, Mrs. Watson." Mycroft had appeared at the top of the stairs. "Please come up. Thank you for coming so quickly."
Watson was already ascending, leaving Mary and Lestrade behind in his haste. "Charlie's filled us in, as much as he was able. Mycroft... Why didn't Holmes tell me he was so close to bringing down Moriarty? We've heard nothing at all from him for weeks, much less regarding a case!"
"No doubt the pig-headed idiot thought he was acting for the best," Mycroft answered wearily. "You must know how protective he is of you, and your good wife." He gave Mary a wan smile as she reached the landing with Lestrade. "He was adamant that neither of you should be embroiled in such a perilous endeavour unless there were no other option. I did warn him that you would not take kindly to such high-handed behaviour..."
Watson suppressed a snort. "Not that he needed telling! Well, never mind that now. May we see him?"
"All in good time, Doctor. There is a matter of... of the greatest delicacy that we must first discuss." Good heavens, was the man actually avoiding eye contact? "Heaven knows I would not pry into the darkest corners of my brother's past if I did not have excellent reason... and I believe that you are the only man alive who is able to assist me."
Watson blinked, trying to ignore the hair raising on the back of his neck. "Surely, Mycroft, you know your brother's history far better even than I!"
"Come now, Doctor... We both know that that isn't true."
The utter conviction in Mycroft's words sent a chill down the doctor's spine, however kindly phrased. The older man had always treated him kindly, though Watson had believed it was merely for his brother's sake, as his acquaintance with Holmes had blossomed from mere flatmates to partners in solving crime to a solid friendship... He should have known, should never have assumed that Mycroft would look no further!
"...How long?"
"Before the Jefferson Hope case. I can well understand the name change before attending St. Barts, but your misfortunes in Afghanistan did not alter you so very much that I could not recognise the young man who had attended his parents' funeral with his younger brother. Or I should say, Dr. Darling, our brother."