Tell Me This Night Is Over

by Acherona

John's on the verge of dying from a broken heart when a fainting spell and a trip to the A&E give him a reason to live again. Of course it's just when he's accepted the new hand fate has dealt him when Sherlock returns and upsets the apple cart once more...He deserved the broken nose.

8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes belong to Sir ACD and in this reincarnation Moffat, Gatiss and the BBC. We own nothing and are only writing this for fun.

AN: Collab between Trulywicked and Acherona. Thank you for the feedback, it means a great deal.

Sherlock comes home!

Please enjoy this chapter.

Tell Me This Night Is Over.

Chapter Eight.

Sherlock arrived without fanfare in England and caught the first taxi he saw. He'd deal with Mycroft's wrath over circumventing whatever plans for reintroduction he'd had later. Right now the only thing on his mind was getting to John and making sure he was safe.

He found himself just a bit irritated when his old key still worked in the door to the townhouse. Mycroft hadn't even arranged to have the locks changed? Well protected his arse. He made his way up the stairs quietly and unlocked the door to the flat, stepping in, his heart pounding to a beat that sounded like his lover's name.

John was lying in bed, propped up against a mound of pillows, reading some medical records that Sarah had sent over for his consulting cases. He jumped when Sentinel started to growl, low in his throat, lips curling back over gleaming white teeth and his body poised for attack.

"What is it boy?" John's hand started to move toward the lockbox where he kept his gun as Sen kept growling, standing in the doorway of the bedroom, ready to protect his master.

Sherlock swallowed as he approached the bedroom door. He wasn't expecting John to leap into his arms at first sight. Honestly he was expecting a fist to the face, a broken nose, maybe even a missing tooth but John was entitled. He turned the door knob and swung it open and was greeted by the last thing he'd have expected in the form of snarling white teeth and black fur poised to lunge. The gun pointed at the door wasn't exactly expected either. And then there was the utterly baffling sight of John's stomach being the size of a football. If Mycroft had lied to him about John dying he was going to kill his brother.

Oh God, John had gone crazy, the stress on his body from the pregnancy had given him a stroke because the man standing in the doorway couldn't be there. He was dead. John had seen him jump, had taken his pulse and seen his blood all over the sidewalk. Sherlock Holmes was dead...He had to be because he wasn't then John would have to kill him with his own bare hands.

One hand went to cradle his stomach but the other who held the gun trained on the ghost in his flat didn't tremble. "Out! Get out now or I will shoot you."

Sentinel picked up on the tone of John's voice and stalked closer to the unknown man, his growls turning even deeper and his teeth snapping in air.

"John?" Sherlock's voice was soft, just a little lost, and very, very confused. He turned his head to look over his shoulder when a loud slam of the downstairs door was followed by his brother's cursing and Lestrade's voice.

"Mycroft would you just tell me what's going on?!"

"No time, he might be an idiot of the highest degree but I rather not plan his funeral all over again." Mycroft took the stair three steps at the time until he was inside the flat, taking in the situation.

"Sherlock, I told you to come to me first. Why are you so stubborn?"

John looked between the brothers, gun still aimed at Sherlock and Sen still growling. His face crumbled when realization started to dawn in his eyes. The hand on his belly tensed. "Out, out, out! Get out right now...all of you!"

Greg, who'd frozen as soon as he'd spotted Sherlock, was spurred into action but the sheer agony in John's tone. He marched forward and grabbed Sherlock by the back of the neck and yanked hard, pulling him away from John's door, and looked over at his own lover, "Call Sarah and Weisz."

"Let me go!" Sherlock managed to twist out of Greg's hold and was turning to plant his feet when a fist like a damned brick impacted with his face and he felt the crunch of cartilage as his nose gave way and he fell onto his ass, staring up at Greg in shock.

Greg kept his voice low, just on the edge of fury, as he looked down at what was supposed to be a dead man, "Mycroft take him downstairs, make those calls, and make sure he stays there." He slid a look over at his lover, "And don't think you don't have a long list of explanations to make to both John and me."

Mycroft nodded, he knew he was in for it; it was nothing he didn't deserve. He handed his little brother a linen handkerchief for his bleeding nose and took a hold of his arm and half dragged him downstairs to the hallway outside of Mrs. Hudson's rooms. Thankfully she was away to visit her sister, no reason to add to this whole mess. He just glared at Sherlock as he made the acquired calls, asking both Sarah and Bradley to get over to Baker Street as quickly as they could. When he hung up he turned and looked at Sherlock.

"For once in your life couldn't you have done what I asked? You have no idea the damage you might have caused here."

"What do you mean damage?" Sherlock had to take care to speak properly thanks to his slowly swelling nose, "What is going on? What is that tumor John has? Did you lie to me?"

"Tumor?" Mycroft ran his hand through his hair in frustration, not caring one bit if it was left standing on end. "Did you really suffer brain damage when you jumped? Are you that blind? Bed rest, two doctors on call, a service dog? Look at it as if it was a case. What was different about the flat? About the bedroom where John is? Use the brain you claim to have."

Sherlock's eyes grew dangerously narrow, he had of course noticed the infant paraphernalia but assumed John was babysitting for some new friend. "What else could it be but a tumor? And possibly some vile attempt at taking revenge for my absence that you've conned John into."

Upstairs, where Greg was hurriedly making tea, he heard the shouting and chose to holler down the stairs before shutting the door, "Mycroft it's Sherlock, he probably deleted everything required for understanding here." He slammed the door shut with a snap, closing off the voices to keep them from further upsetting John and went back to brewing the chamomile tea.

John had finally dropped the gun and curled up on his side as much as he could, considering the size of his stomach. He couldn't handle this, couldn't handle that Sherlock was alive, that he had left him all alone. Didn't he know that John had been dying without him? John had been forced to go through every ache and every scare without Sherlock there. He couldn't come back now, he just couldn't handle it.

Downstairs, Mycroft was close to give Sherlock more than a broken nose. Then he realized something and reached into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out the ultrasound picture he carried with him out of habit now. "Call my nephew a tumor one more time and I will let John shoot you...After the beast disguised as a dog has ripped your throat out."

Sherlock frowned, mind already categorizing the similarities in the features of the little being in the image to his own and John's. His face twisted in complete mystification. "I don't understand."

Mycroft sighed, realizing that Sherlock really didn't get it. He sat down next to his brother on the steps, talking softly. "Sherlock...John is pregnant. He has a condition called chimerism, in essence he has female reproductive systems as well as male ones, allowing him to get pregnant. He didn't know until you were gone...Your son...Your son is expected in February." Mycroft knew that Sherlock could do the math.

Sherlock didn't say anything else, instead he had his phone out and searching for the terms Mycroft had spoken. He needed data because this...was difficult to believe.

Greg finished the tea and came toward the door, knocking on the jamb in soft warning to the dog now whining and nosing at John's hand and John himself, "John, may I come in?"

John didn't really reply other than with a low hum that could mean anything. He didn't say no either though, just stayed curled in on himself, trying to shut out the world as much as he could.

Greg took it as a yes and came in, setting the mug of tea down on the nightstand and patting Sentinel before laying a hand on John's shoulder. "Sarah and Dr. Weisz are on their way. I made you some tea as well and...and I have no idea what to do for you except maybe go downstairs and clock him again."

"It's real then? Sherlock is alive? Not a stroke or insanity?" John's voice was low and he stayed in his curled up position. "I don't give a shit about reasons. I don't want to see him. He left me alone. He left me all alone for all this time and now he can stay away. I don't need him anymore."

"Okay. I'll relay the message. I'm sure we can arrange for Sherlock to be sequestered in the north of Scotland for the rest of your lives." Greg didn't try to convince John that he'd change his mind and want Sherlock soon enough or try to remind him of how much he'd been needing and wanting Sherlock over the last several months. He knew better than to try that.

"As long as he's not here I don't care." John's voice was empty. All he felt right now was pain. The same crippling pain that had nearly killed him after Sherlock died...Except he didn't die now did he? Christ, John's mind was just going around in circles; he couldn't make sense of anything anymore. If he closes his eyes tightly enough and managed to fall asleep then maybe he would wake up to realize that this was just another bad dream. He'd certainly had his fair share of dreams where Sherlock wasn't dead; none of them had hurt like this though.

He was about to say more when the door was opened in a flurry of motion and Sarah came in, pausing only to glare at Greg and hiss, "Did you know about this?"

"God no. If I had I'd have told John soon as possible."

She nodded shortly and bumped him aside, "Go downstairs with those two bastards." She started taking vitals, her stethoscope going under his shirt to listen to the baby's heartbeat, in full doctor mode.

"Alright, if you need anything just let me know." Greg didn't take her hrumph personally and ambled out and downstairs, only lifting a brow at Sherlock doubled over, almost purple and breathing hard through his nose. "Kick you in the bollocks did she? Can't say you didn't deserve that." He sat down on the stairs and waited for someone else to speak.

There was a long awkward silence as Sherlock struggled to get his breath back, then finally Mycroft spoke up. "She was wearing the boots, the ones John gave her for the Holidays, did you notice that?" Mycroft couldn't help but feel sorry for his little brother; being kicked by those could not have felt pleasant at all.

"How did you escape the same fate?" Greg lifted a silver brow in question.

Sherlock groaned out, "Bastard...dodged."

"Went for you first did she then Sherlock." He looked up as Dr. Weisz came rushing in, his eyes widening on Sherlock then staring disapprovingly at Mycroft before he ran up the stairs past Greg.

Greg just kept staring at Mycroft but once Sherlock had managed to regain his faculties and sit up straight, he spoke, "John doesn't want Sherlock around here." He didn't show the slightest reaction to the flinch Sherlock made. "He's pissed, he's hurting, and he's been struggling through a pregnancy alone thinking about everything he'd never get to share with the baby's other father. You've got one fucking ton of groveling and restitution to do to get back in his good graces Sherlock."

"And how much groveling will my brother have to do to get back in your Lestrade?" Sherlock gingerly readjusted himself and wished for some ice.

"Well that depends on the explanation I'll be getting."

"Not sure I have a satisfactory explanation to give you." Mycroft replied, running his hand through his hair once more. Waging wars without the people of Britain finding out was so much easier than facing the disappointment of the man you loved. "Sherlock is my brother...I helped put him in the situation he found himself it and I had to help him out of it. Three snipers trained on you, Martha and John, ordered to take the shot unless Sherlock jumped. I'm not sure if you ever can understand or really forgive but I had to help my brother Greg. Had to help him protect the people that matter."

Greg's fingers twitched and he gave Sherlock on long, stern look, "If you so much as think about going upstairs, I'll borrow Sarah's boots and kick you in the bollocks myself," that said he was up and in front of Mycroft in one smooth, predatory movement, grabbing him by the waistcoat and pulling him down the hall and kicking open 221C for privacy.

He fisted his hands in Mycroft's jacket, got in his face, and growled, "I half want to clock you for even thinking I couldn't understand." Then he slanted his mouth over Mycroft's in a hard, intense, breath stealing kiss.

Mycroft was still and wide eyed for one shocked moment before surging into motion, wrapping his arms around Greg's neck almost to the point of pain and kissing back with everything he had. He let all his worry, fear, relief and love show in the kiss as he just clung. When he finally pulled away he breathed against Greg's lips. "I swear I was going to tell you, Sherlock was supposed to come to us so we could ease John into his return, it wasn't supposed to be like this...I forgot it's Sherlock we're dealing with, he never does as he's told."

Greg leaned his brown against Mycroft's, "Idiot. The both of you really." He sighed nipped at Mycroft's bottom lip in a scold. "I'm angry but it's on behalf of John." He leaned back a bit to look into Mycroft's eyes, "You should have told him about this, explained that Sherlock was taking out the snipers or whatever else he was doing to keep John safe and then he'd be back, when you found out he was pregnant. He'd have been pissed off no question but not as pissed off and shattered as he is now thinking Sherlock just abandoned him."

He closed his eyes and breathed out through his nose. "I know, I know I should have. I just couldn't break one more promise to Sherlock, I have not been the best of brothers but I had to do this for him. It's no excuse and I still should have told John but I didn't and here we are now." Mycroft opened his eyes again and looked met his lover's. "If John really will push Sherlock away, not want him any longer...than my brother will die for all intents and purposes. He might have gone about it in the wrong way but he did it all for John."

Greg snorted, "I have no idea how well that'll go over but right now it's hormones and a solid thirty-seven weeks of grieving that's talking for John." He sighed and leaned his cheek against Mycroft's. He wished he could say he was infuriated with Mycroft but he wasn't, because he did understand. "You and Sherlock, completely arsebackwards the both of you."

"It has been pointed out to us before yes." Mycroft smiled but it was a tense, worried smile. It was so much easier when you didn't care. When you didn't care you couldn't get hurt but now Mycroft had placed his heart at Greg's feet and he knew that John owned Sherlock's heart. When emotions and sentiment entered the picture there was so much to lose.

Greg tangled his fingers with Mycroft's, "Come on, that threat to his bollocks won't hold Sherlock in place for long and we need to sit on him to keep him from doing something stupid...er."

Mycroft nodded. "We need to get back yes. Though more than the kick to his scrotum, gathering the data on John's pregnancy and all the medical terms will be what holds him back, at least for a moment."

"We probably want to hide him before Sarah comes back downstairs too." He looked over his shoulder at Mycroft as he tightened his hand on his lover's, "And I have a few ideas when it comes to this mess and compromising for Sherlock's lodgings because I know damned good and well that Sherlock won't be leaving the townhouse while Donovan's out there and a threat."

"Since I have made nothing but a mess of things, I'll willingly follow any idea you have that may lead away from the path of bloodshed and heartache." Mycroft squeezed his lover's hand and walked with him out of 221C to return to Sherlock. More than watching him, Mycroft wanted to be there for him as well. Sherlock had spent enough time alone.

"It involves 221C and baby care lessons," the corner of Greg's mouth kicked up just a little bit, "Which we both know will lead to experiments in everything from diaper absorbency to formula composition."

This time Mycroft's smile was a little less tense, because he could see that, see Sherlock experimenting, throwing himself at learning to care for a child just like he did everything else. "I think that may actually work and since John is on bed rest he can't throttle him either."

"And I've an idea for that as well. A blog," he paused before they got back into Sherlock's earshot, "John would delete e-mails but if there was a private blog, one just John could see and only Sherlock could edit, then John's curiosity would get the better of him and Sherlock could let John know everything without risking a bullet to the leg."

Mycroft felt a twitch in his trousers that was completely inappropriate in this situation but a take charge, planning and plotting Greg was the hottest thing he'd ever seen. There were few things that Mycroft liked more than power and scheming. "I like this side of you Greg, I really do and I'll make sure Sherlock goes along with this. He is a genius after all, he should see that this will be the best chance he has to get John back, John and Benjamin."

"What side? And let's keep the name a secret as long as we can," Greg smirked, "Better impact."

Oh, more scheming. Mycroft tightened his grip on Greg's hand and if it wasn't so crude and common he might have actually moaned.

Greg quirked a brow as they appeared in Sherlock's line of sight once more, "That's...interesting." He looked at an absorbed Sherlock who was staring with his usual intent at his phone.

That didn't last long, Sherlock looked up at his brother fast enough and frowned, "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"What would you have done if I had Sherlock?" Mycroft didn't let go of Greg's hand. "Would you have dropped everything and rushed home? Giving the snipers their golden opportunity? If you'd stayed away knowing, you would have been distracted, vulnerable and even you would have been prone to mistakes. In a reversed situation would you have told me?"

Greg watched as the logic sank in and Sherlock seemed to curl in on himself, looking entirely too vulnerable for the usually dynamic man.

"I need him Mycroft." It was soft and filled with terror.

Greg sighed and moved to sit next to Sherlock before Mycroft could reply, "We'll help you make amends Sherlock but it'll take time. This is not like the rows you had before, it's not even as easy as it would have been if John wasn't carrying your child."

"What do I do? I can't leave him alone, not when Donovan is out there."

"We know that, we won't make you leave but you need to give John some space." Mycroft looked at his brother. "It was bad when you left Sherlock, John was broken, didn't eat, didn't sleep...I think he was set on dying before he found out about the baby. He has trust issues, you know that and even though you did it all for him you have just confirmed to him that no one can be trusted, not even the one you love. Stay in 221C. Look out for him but give him time."

"That is...acceptable," the pouting frown made it clear it was a begrudging acceptance. "I left him clues though...I thought..."

Greg jerked a look at Sherlock, "Hang on, what bloody clues?"

"In the conversation, when I called him. The ball, he saw me playing with it. I..."

"And for those of us not of genius intellect?"

"I switched from past tense to present when I spoke to John before I jumped. I used the rubber ball trick to stop my wrist pulse."

"Oh Sherlock..." In that moment, Mycroft felt a huge wave of pity for his younger brother and he wished he could take all his pain away. "On any other occasion John might have been able to pick up on your clues but Sherlock...He watched you step off a roof, first he had to listen to you say that you would do it, no way to reach you in time and then he saw you jump. His best friend, his lover. It doesn't matter that it was all a magic trick because to John it happened. He watched you die."

"I knew he wouldn't pick up on it right away Mycroft! I thought, after some time, he would. John mulls over things repeatedly. My intent-"

Greg ran a hand over his face, "The road to bloody hell Sherlock, don't ask me just look it up one day. Maybe John would have cottoned on eventually if he hadn't been pregnant, maybe not. Doesn't change what he's feeling now. But," he interrupted Sherlock before he could do much more than open his mouth, "it might help later. When he's ready for an explanation. Brush up on your writing skills Sherlock. You're going to be starting a blog."

"Why would I do that? I already have a website."

"Yes you do but as John has pointed out to you repeatedly, no one reads your website and the point of this is to make John read it. It would be a blog open only to him, a blog where you can be honest with him without pretending. I promise not even I will poke my nose into it." Mycroft's nose twitched at that statement. "Show him you are serious, that you want him and your child. Learn how to care for an infant, that you are ready to step up and be the man he needs."

Sherlock frowned, his fingers tapping as his mind whirred. He needed John, John was his center, his nucleus. Without him he'd collapse in on himself in a magnificent implosion. And he liked children, oddly enough. It had been a vague thought for some time in the future, once he grew bored of the cases that he'd be stuck with once Lestrade got promoted to Superintendent, to raise bees and see how John might feel about adopting a child. Just a slight thought that had occasionally chased itself through his head. This...was unprecedented. Without time to plan or consider how to fit the Work with parenthood, he was only four weeks off from becoming a father.

The mechanics of caring for a child were easily learned but it was the rest of it, protecting a baby and making sure it was...loved. How did he do that and still be himself?

Greg snorted at the expressions flickering over Sherlock's face, "Oh I've been there three times already Sherlock," he thumped him on the shoulder, "You'll figure it out as you go along. Now, up you get. I think you'd best be sitting in C before they get done with John upstairs or you'll wind up with Sarah kicking you again."

"I'll make sure you'll have some furniture down there as well as your clothes and your lab...John hasn't thrown anything away." Mycroft's voice was soft, there was an eerie silence from upstairs and he couldn't help but wonder what was going on. He had to admit that knowing John's temper he had expected shouting and things breaking, not this quiet. It was disconcerting.

"He hasn't?" Sherlock looked up hopefully, he was well aware of just how not good silence was. It meant John was beyond simple temper and drove home just how badly he'd buggered up.

Greg got to his feet and manhandled Sherlock up, "Not a thing. Some packed away a bit because they're not baby friendly, but not a single thing tossed out."

"Don't throw me around," Sherlock scowled.

"Why not?"

"That's John's job."

"And he'll be back to do his job soon enough but for now please don't alienate Greg who is one of the few who doesn't want to kick you in the bollocks again." Mycroft arched a brow at his brother and forced down any gentle words what wanted to escape. Sherlock would not appreciate them. "Let's get you settled and make plans to get John to forgive you. Oh and you may want to warn Molly before John tears her head off as well."

"Oh. Yes. That is what is considered 'good' isn't it?"

Greg shook his head and poked Sherlock toward 221C, "You're a mess mate."

Upstairs Dr. Weisz finished checking to make sure the stress hadn't had a detrimental effect on the baby, "Everything's still in place as it should be." He pat John's hand, "Still scheduled for your February C-section."

"Good, that's good." John had been a doctor long enough that he recognized the signs of being in shock. It felt as if the rug had been ripped from beneath his feet. The world was tilted on its axis and nothing was as John had believed it to be. Of course he was happy that Sherlock was alive, he didn't wish death on anyone, well there were exceptions but he certainly didn't wish death on Sherlock. It was just that Sherlock had lied to him, had walked away and left him broken. If Sherlock could lie about dying then what else had he lied about? John could love with being drugged and manipulated, he'd thought that beneath it all Sherlock loved him just as he loved Sherlock but perhaps that had just been another ruse, another experiment and John wasn't sure he could handle that.

"I'll be going downstairs then and giving two young men quite the lecture." He left the room with one more gentle pat, knowing that John would be more comfortable with just Dr. Sawyer.

Sarah tucked a thick, fluffy blanket around John's shoulders and sat next to him, arm around him over the blanket. "It'll be okay," she ran her hand over his hair. She was pissed, unbelievably pissed at Sherlock Holmes, but she'd seen the look on his face before she'd kicked his balls up to his ears. Painful regret, gut-wrenching fear, and utter confusion.

"I don't know Sarah, I don't know if it will ever be okay again." John hated sounding like that; hated being back in the place of weakness and hurt once more after he'd just managed to crawl up from that hole. He was a strong man, he was! But Sherlock had the power to make him crumble with a single look, just as he could build him up with one.

"You don't have to know yet. I know and right now that's enough. It will be okay John," she squeezed his shoulders, "And in a few weeks you'll be able to clock the bloody inconsiderate twat yourself. Who broke his nose by the way?"

"Greg did, punched him right in the face." There was both satisfaction and worry in John's voice. "Is his nose really broken?" He wanted Sherlock to hurt, like he hurt but at the same time he didn't want him injured. It was so confusing; John couldn't keep up with his own mind. "I hope he gets it set right, he has a lovely nose."

She lifted a brow. God the both of them, lovesick idiots. "I'm certain the King Tit will arrange for proper setting but yes, it's really broken from the way it was swollen up. And er...I may have added insult to injury."

"Oh?" John turned his head to look at his friend, then he caught sight of her feet. He was both horrified and completely inappropriately amused. "You kicked him didn't you? Good thing this bun is in the oven then because who knows if he will father anymore children." John burst out in mad giggles that quickly turned into sobs.

She wrapped her arms around him and rocked as Sentinel jumped up carefully onto the bed and cuddled in on John's other side. "Okay, it's okay. Just let it all out John." She hated John being hurt like this, absolutely loathed it, but all she could do was be here and help him through the confusing and hurtful circumstances.

John leaned into her, allowing himself that comfort as he cried his heart out. This would be the last time he promised himself, he was done crying over Sherlock Holmes, he was just done.

Sarah kept up a soothing string of nonsense until he was cried out then she got up to fetch a cool cloth to wipe his face, "Better?"

"Not really no, but I'll get there." John reached over to pet a worried Sentinel, letting the dog know he was alright, that Sen could relax. "Thank you for coming, for being here Sarah, for being a friend.

"You're welcome. I'm just glad to give you an emotionally normal person to lean on. Just about everyone else you know is a mess."

John snorted. "They are, aren't they? Well I fit right in with them then don't I? I am sorry though, for leaning so hard and so often. You deserve more than that. You should be out there living your own life instead of continuously mopping up my messes."

"I'd whack you for saying that if you weren't eight months pregnant. It's what people do for their friends, messy or not." She crossed her legs at the ankles, "So...Lestrade did he know? He said he didn't but he had just walked in on the result of my kicking Sherlock so..." she shrugged.

John shook his head. "No it was very clear from the punch and his reaction that Greg didn't know." For some reason that made John happy, he had just gotten his friendship with the other man back and he was glad they had been in the same boat in this, both deceived by their Holmes'. "Molly must have known though, she performed the 'autopsy' on Sherlock, signed off on his death certificate."

"Shit. God why didn't she say anything in the MRI room?"

"I have no idea; she was Sherlock's friend first. I guess she stayed Sherlock's friend. She did help though." John shrugged, not knowing what to feel regarding Molly Hooper either.

"I don't understand any of this truth be told." She rubbed her temple, "What the reason behind all of it?"

"Oh I get the reason behind it, that is the one thing I do understand. The snipers Sarah, the snipers. One on Mrs. Hudson, one on Greg and one on me. Three snipers, three bullets. Sherlock jumps or the triggers are pulled. I get it...It's the lies afterward that pisses me off. Fucker didn't have to do it on his own. He could have let me know, I could have helped him and nothing he says now can excuse him not letting me know."

"Oh I agree wholeheartedly. Same goes for the King Tit." She frowned, "But God that's a scary idea too."

"I know, I just can't think about that because I need to hold on to my anger right now. I am so close to shattering Sarah and I can't afford to because I am still becoming a parent in about a month. As for Mycroft...I've never really expected anything but secrets from him." John continued to stroke Sen's silky fur; it seemed as if it was soothing for the both of them.

She pat his ankle, "Okay. How about I make some tea then and we can look up rugby matches on your laptop until you need to fall asleep?"

John thought about it. "Actually...If you don't mind I think I want to skip right to the sleeping part. It's been an...exciting day."

She smiled and kissed the top of his head, "I don't mind John. Just remember to call if you need me okay?"

He nodded. "I will." He turned and rolled up on his side again, Sentinel a comforting weight of warmth behind his knees. Right now he wanted to be alone, hopefully sleep but also trying to sort through the mess of his thoughts and feelings.

"Alright then," she tucked the blanket around him better, "I'll head out then. Sweet dreams." She stepped away and made her way downstairs, narrowing her eyes when she heard voices coming from the direction of 221c. She made her way down to the third flat in the townhouse and crossed her arms when she saw Sherlock and his brother arguing over the best way to convert the second bedroom into a lab. "Oh you are not serious."

Greg looked up at her, "Do me a favor Sarah, don't kick Mycroft in the groin. I've more than a few reasons for wanting that to stay intact."

"Oh I don't plan on kicking the King Tit Greg so save your worry."

Sherlock looked at his brother, a brief spark of amusement in his eyes, "King Tit?"

A faint dusting of pink spread over Mycroft's cheekbones. "Yes well...John was not exactly pleased with me after the ...incident and Dr. Sawyer is very opinionated." Mycroft put it politely he could think that the lady doctor was a vicious stubborn bitch but he would never utter such language out loud. "I'm sure she will come up with an equally inspiring name for you."

"Truth be told I'm just leaning toward the all-encompassing 'Idiot'. Why are you not out of the townhouse, and make it good."

"Donovan." Greg was the one who answered, "She's in the wind and she's got an ax to grind against John." He watched Sarah soften just a hair, "As good as Mycroft's men are," he ignored Sherlock's snort, "others have gotten past them before."

She studied Sherlock closely, to the point that he actually shifted uncomfortably under her regard. "You really do love John?"

"Of course I do don't be stupid." He snapped it.

Oddly enough that made her feel better. "He's been miserable. Even after finding out about the baby he was broken into so many pieces I wasn't certain he'd ever manage to carry to term. And now, just as he's managed to pick up the pieces and start gluing them back together, you've come back in the worst possible way and dashed the whole construct to the floor again." She stepped forward and poked him in the chest, "You had damned well help him pick the pieces back up, put them back together, and make bloody sure you don't break him again Sherlock Holmes or I'll do worse than kick you in the bollocks. I'll lobotomize you."

Mycroft nearly shuddered at the honest intent in Dr. Sawyer's voice, he had no doubt that she would at least try to cut his brother's brilliance out of him. It was a scary thought. "How is John? I understand that he is upset but he is alright is he not? The baby?"

She cut her gaze over to him, "Still healthy and on track though it could have been a very near thing." She noticed that Sherlock looked more terrified by that than he had been by her threat on his brain. "He was in shock for a little while and now he's sleeping, probably conked out as soon as I left the room from exhaustion." She looked back at Sherlock and frowned, "There is no excuse you could give John that would ever make this right but," she prodded him to sit down and put on gloves before she started treating his broken nose, carefully manipulating it back into place with artery forceps and a gentle touch, "If you'll ignore your bogus self diagnosis of sociopathy and put everything you feel out on the line for him and prove how sorry you are, you might just earn his forgiveness." She kept his nose straight with Walsham's forceps while she pulled plaster bandages out of her kit with her other hand, laid them out in a T shape, and wet them with sterile water from a bottle in her kit.

"Mycroft said nephew." It was a bit muffled but held the tone of a question.

She nodded as she began placing the nose cast in place, "Yes, in hopefully four weeks you'll have a son with John. So you'd better grovel like you've never groveled before if you want to be there for the delivery."

"Sherlock has never groveled before in his life unless he was acting. This should be a new experience for him." Mycroft couldn't help but tease his brother; it was a compulsion that occurred anytime the two of them spend more than ten minutes in each other's company.

"Piss off," it was an irritable growl from Sherlock. "You don't know everything."

Sarah quirked a brow, "You'll have to do much better than that piss poor apology during the Hound case, yes John told me about that you little twat."

"Why are you helping me?" Sherlock was puzzled. Shouldn't she be warning him away and telling him never to come near John ever again.

"Because John needs you, no matter how he's going to try and convince himself otherwise. He loves your emotionally stunted ass to the exclusion of everything but the baby. You bring him to life, as silly and romantic a notion as that is, and I don't want to see him living a half life because you're utterly brilliant at cocking things up."

Greg snickered. That was a very good way of putting it.

Mycroft clucked his tongue and straightened his suit. "I may not know everything but I'll always know more than you since you'll always be spectacularly ignorant." He turned from Sherlock to Dr. Sawyer and told her about their plan regarding the blog and Sherlock's baby classes. He may not like Sarah Sawyer even the slightest little bit but he respected her and he knew that they would need to have her on their side if Sherlock would have any chance at all to make John forgive him.

She nodded, "That's a good idea actually," she pursed her lips, "Greg's was it?"

Greg chuckled, "You're evil."

"That's a yes. I know a couple of people who would make a 'house call' to teach Sherlock here everything he needs to know about baby care. Send John an e-mail from Mike Stamford with the link to the blog once you've got it set up. I'm sure your Government can hack an e-mail account Greg."

"Of course I can, did you even doubt it." Mycroft scoffed. "By the way you should get a better spam filter for your e-mail. That would keep you from getting all those letters about cures for erectile dysfunction and promises of increased sexual pleasure. Unless you enjoy them of course."

She gave him a nasty smirk, "I knew I was on the right track handwriting that file."

"Oh God don't start this again," Greg rolled his eyes and explained to a confused Sherlock about how Sarah had kept the truth about John's condition for a solid month.

Sherlock couldn't help but grin, "Oh. Clever. I'm surprised you've not hired her Mycroft. Isn't such ingenuity exactly what you're always looking for?"

"Mm, usually is but Dr. Sawyer and Anthea doesn't get along and I do want my children to play nice with each other." Mycroft buffed his nails against the fabric of his navy blue suit jacket.

"There's also the fact that I wouldn't work for the King Tit if the position came with a harem full of men at my beck and call and enough gold to bury Ireland." She tested the nose cast and nodded, "Alright then. You'll have to keep that cast on for six weeks, don't fiddle with it. John likes your nose straight."

Sherlock blinked, "He...said that?"

She nodded, "He did so you've got a good chance. Don't blow it up." She packed her materials away. "Oh and someone might want to warn Martha before she comes home to find a dead man inhabiting her basement."

"I'm already on that." Mycroft waved his phone in the air, pressing the keys quickly. "I'm not too worried though; Martha is a lot sturdier than she looks...though maybe you should invest in some sort of cup or something Sherlock, in case you get kicked again." Then Mycroft grinned at Sarah. "Oh and Dr. Sawyer just to be perfectly clear, you do work for me. You run a government funded clinic...good luck finding a harem of men though. Ireland though, Ireland is cheap, you might actually afford to buy it."

"Mycroft," Greg's voice was warning in tone.

"Yes Mycroft do shut up." Sherlock pulled out his phone once more and began another search on how shock affected a gestating infant.

Mycroft huffed but went to lean against one of the walls, cringing at how his suit would look afterward, this place was dirty, dusty and water damaged...perfect for Sherlock in other words. There was nothing his brother could do to ruin it even more except blow it up and Mycroft didn't think Sherlock would risk that with a pregnant John upstairs.

Sarah just shook her head and bid them goodbye. She needed to get home to a long, hot bath and a glass of wine.

To be continued…