Eleven: Maybe It's You That Should Leave

Sherlock stood stock still, and his mask was hiding more than ever as he was majorly surprised and extremely pissed. If they didn't take John, who did? Was he even kidnapped at all? Did he just leave? But if he did that, why? Sherlock fingered the metal under his silk black flannel, no. John wouldn't, that's not his style. He said he would always be there.

"Then who did take him?" the detective finally asked, dropping his hand to his side and looking to Eve, who had stopped giggling. Now she was staring at him in slight awe. He didn't seem to be effected by the fact that he had been outsmarted. Hadn't he? Surely, he was. Now, she wasn't so sure.

Sherlock and Eve started a staring contest as Mary had caught Sherlock's hand when it was on his chest. She knew what was there, and she smiled. At least he cared… "I won't say, because it's painfully obvious," Eve snorted in Sherlock's direction, and let out a chuckle.

Sherlock stared to her, hard. His gaze said nothing, but everything all at the same time. Mary feared this look. And what he said made her shiver, "Is it? Then you wouldn't mind if I just went to get him? Perhaps kill you first," it wasn't a question as he threatened. And it wasn't an open threat, it was more like a deal, a promise.

"You wouldn't, and you can't," she stuck her nose in the air and stared at Sherlock from across the room that Sherlock hated already, and her standing there only made it worse. Sherlock's all-seeing eyes flicked to the rest of her stance before going back to her eyes.

"I would, and I know I could," but he was calm as his voice was all he needed to express his wish of death. Even Eve was a little nervous. She didn't show it, of course, but she was. Well, she didn't make it obvious. Of course she was showing it, and Sherlock had an almost smug look about him now.

But Mary stepped in, "Okay, girls. You're scaring the little one," she almost laughed as Aveen rolled her eyes. The other Vamps gave her stares of admiration but irritation. "Eve, contain yourself, you'll both get your chance soon enough," she assured with a nod and Sherlock simply switched to the same bored face as his tone reflected it.

"All in good time," Sherlock nodded as well, his curls shaking into his eyes as he looked to Aveen. He knew what Mary meant, and he was fine with it. More than fine, actually. Aveen just stood, observing with a flat-line for lips. He gave her the smallest smile and she eyed him, wondering why he wouldn't just give up and let the pale of the mask fall to reveal the blushing to crimson man underneath.

She knew there were things he was hiding that he would never show or tell her, but come on. Emotions are not as bad as he seems to think, and why he thinks they're bad puzzles everyone. He loves John, and more fiercely than Smaug guards his treasure, so why the hell does he hide it? Like Smaug hides his treasure…? (Aveen's mother read her The Hobbit when she was younger, don't judge her.)

Mary understood, but only partly. She knew why he wanted to hide his feelings, but she didn't know why he hadn't given up so far. No one here was going to judge him for loving, and caring. But he acted as if they would. Mary sighed and put her arm around Eve's waist, and Eve finally relaxed and her arm slipped around Mary's shoulders.

Sherlock wasn't surprised at this. He knew that Mary and Eve had something going on when he stepped inside the familiar room. Again, with the mysterious women living in this house. Sherlock could remember when he had first met Irene, and John's face when she was standing naked in front of him.

It was priceless, and when he thought Sherlock loved Irene. That was absurd. Infatuated, definitely, but never love. Although, Sherlock didn't blame himself for that one, everyone was infatuated with her, even the women.

And just when Sherlock was about to just leave, there was a knock at the door and Eve knew who it was, as well as Mary. Aveen was still getting used to it, but she was pretty sure she knew who it was. Eve greeted her Elder as she stepped in the room and looked straight to Sherlock. Her gaze never broke and he almost shivered at those eyes.

He had to say, she was beautiful. Her snow white hair accented her swirled blue eyes well as her curves told him she was meant to make men fall over themselves. And her hair wasn't just down and around. She had braids in the front where she split it down the middle, and the rest was pulled to a tight pony tail that slightly stuck up behind her head and travelled down to her hips, as did the braids to her belt.

She stared as she said, "Sherlock Holmes," and extended her soft hand. Instead of shaking it, Sherlock kissed her knuckles, knowing who this was without a second glance. She didn't blush, but was surprised. She didn't expect him to be so well-mannered. Then again, the Holmes brothers can surprise anyone.

"The one and only," he replied, letting go of her pale hand in his and letting his own float to the chain and he fingered the attachments. They struck each other in a sound he loved to hear, as he used to hear it on John.

She nodded briefly as she stared at that hand now, "My… partner," she was disgusted by that word, "is sending someone after you, and as much as I would like you to be punished, I can't let him kill you," she shook her head, and her eyes went back to the now green ones of Holmes. He does that, somehow, they always match the background of where he stands. It's beautiful but confusing.

"And why not?" Sherlock asked, truly baffled. He knows what he did, so why wouldn't she let him die? Didn't she want him to die?

"Because there are other ways of punishing you," she pointed out to his attention. "Other ways that are just as affective. Besides, what you did wasn't any more of a crime than what Jim had done," she pointed out once more as Sherlock was astonished. What had he done to get on her good side?

Eve was shocked to the point of infuriation, and her fists shook as she pounced Sherlock. She struck out to his cheekbones and was about to get to his nose when Mary pulled her off, "Eve! Did you not just hear what she said?!" Mary cried.

"Oh, I heard, and that's why I will get my revenge," she screamed as she lunged at him again, Mary's grip faltering. She let out a battle cry as she was on him again, and finally got to his nose, and his chest.

But he pushed her off and straddled her as he rose his fist to strike. But he didn't, "If Jim matters more to you than your current lover, you don't deserve her," he said, lowering his hand, and he still had that blank but bored look on his face, even through the blood. He had fixed it when surprise broke over it before.

The bridge of his nose was bleeding as well as his cheeks and under his nose was blood still trickling to his lips, and he just let it. Eve pulled herself from his thighs and she stood, watching the blood drip. If she hadn't fed the other night, she'd be gasping and she would have licked it straight from his face. He stood and observed her reactions to the steady flow of dark red.

But she contained herself as Mary never faltered. This showed Sherlock that what she wanted was blood. She wanted revenge, and now he also knew that Jim was much more than just a boss to her. He was what she thought she'd never have: that father figure. The one who cares and protects you from the big bad world.

Sherlock's gaze went from the floor to Eve, and he could see that want. She looked from the floor to Mary and her eyes stayed on that blond hair that she admired more than anything. Those eyes that she could stare at all day without blinking, and she'd be content. Mary caught her staring and smiled as the Elder finally broke the silence and spoke once more.

"Sherlock, I am taking you from here, and I will put you someplace safe," she confirmed as she started to reach for his arm.

He jerked from her, "You can't assure that for John and Aveen, so I will go nowhere. I don't care if I die, they won't," he protested. He stared at her with a glare that would have melted any other person to the floor.

"And if you die, you'll never have a chance to make that promise to John in person, please, you don't have much time," she almost begged this stubborn man. She didn't know why she was helping this insignificance, but she felt she had to.

He shook his head as he flattened his lips, "No, I will not leave," he said, crossing his arms over his chest, the metal under his forearms making him remember that he also had a special band of it in his pocket as well…

John was subjected to tests of every kind before Mycroft gave him another mission. He was happy to be on the fourth and that much closer to being able to come back to Sherlock and Aveen. He popped up from his chair with a small head ache that faded.

The hole the needle had made, gone. He grinned as Mycroft explained the details and the dangers of this one. "John, you could die," he pointed out.

"Your point?" he contradicted, "Look," he said after that look, the one which says, 'I wouldn't tell you if I wasn't serious,' "I know what the risks are, and I also know that Sherlock, somewhere is taking the same ones for me. I'd be a terrible boyfriend if I couldn't return the favor," he explained.

Mycroft was a little surprised that he was so open about labeling his relationship with Sherlock. But what else was he to call him? It's not like he proposed… no, he shook the idea from his head. Sherlock would say that'd be the worst display of affection and sentiment and would probably deny him.

Mycroft saw that, though. He saw what John was thinking, and he had to say, he could have laughed at the thought process John went through. Instead, he just grinned. John was confused as Mycroft handed him a pistol once more and this time, he also had a short dagger. Why, he knew, but he didn't care, but he knew he would have to use it. The weapon he wouldn't need, would be the M9 he stashed in his trousers.

He nodded to Mycroft as his shoes shuffled across the carpet in a hurried fashion and he was out the door within seconds of that commanding nod that was returned to him. He ran down the stairs, his feet flying as he stood outside the mansion and waited for that annoying car.

He wished he could walk, but it wasn't close enough to do so. Besides, this one was in an interesting place. Also, one that he wouldn't walk into voluntarily. He was silent as Anthea eyed him from the seat beside him.

She resumed typing as he returned the look of a student studying. She smiled when she knew he was looking back. His eyes snapped from Anthea and her phone and looked to the grass and trees outside. They soon faded into more sidewalks and buildings, and the one place John thought he'd never see again, let alone stay at. Actually, he had expected to be here again, but not like this.

o0o

So here it was, sometime in the middle of the goddamn night, and he was outside this building waiting for a, "Target acquired you bloody bastard," he mumbled. He pulled out his pretty dagger and it shined in the moonlight as he struck.

He sunk it into this man's neck, but of course, him being high on the many things in that fucking house, he was almost immune to the pretty knife in his neck that John pulled out. He turned to look at the clot who had stabbed him, and he took a swing when he discovered that John had no fear.

John's face stayed the same as every motion was carried out. A kick, boring, a punch, boring. But when John stepped it up, so did he. High or not, this man was smart. He tried to punch John square in the jaw, but he missed and instead spun round and caught John's stomach with the other.

John hunched over and this man punched his temple, and if it hadn't been for John's high pain tolerance, he would been done already. But he shook it off and landed a few more punches before being swept off his feet with a kick to the ankles.

But he was counting on this, and he rolled and the other man was on the ground next to him as John was on him before he could blink. He landed a huge blow to his temple and others to his nose and his chest that knocked the air from his already dead lungs.

He was about to throw John off when there was that sparkle of the knife found again and he panicked, not being as strong as he would have liked. He tried to block John's hands with his own, but John just pushed them from his forearms and the pretty blade was in his forehead before he could do anymore. Finally John smiled, and grinned when this man was only a body.

And he could feel that red thing healing his wounds already. And after that, was the tingly new feeling and then the pounding head ache. It wasn't as bad as the first or the second and third that Mycroft had caused, but it was still enough to make him drop and howl in pain.

And then there was Anthea, Jesus, what was with her saving his ass from these headaches? She shoved him in the car, blood and all and left the body and the knife for some other of Mycroft's agents to clean up. Usually John would do it himself, as he never wanted to be a burden, but how would he do that with the gremlin pounding on the gates to his brain. It was shouting and howling as John was and then he started to fade.

Yes, John imagined a little fucking gremlin banging on his brain's door, don't judge. How else is he supposed to rationalize what was happening as the crimson faded and the injuries disappeared? The little gremlin was locked away again as he sniffed at the tears and wiped them from his cheeks, as well as blood.

Anthea smiled when she saw him perk up and just stare at his hands. Nasty little bastards, they were. They could be kind and loving, yes. But they could murder without a second thought. Anthea saw that look and slapped his hands into his lap.

"Stop it," she demanded as he looked at her in disbelief. Had she known what he was thinking? He didn't know, all he knew was that she was an interesting character. Explains why he had hit on her the first they met. But she was pretty, too, so…

But he decided to question anyway as he looked to her with his brows knitted together across his forehead, "Stop what?"

She sighed and rolled her eyes at the idiotic man in the seat beside her, "Stop looking at your hands as if you're a horrible man. We both know that's not true," she huffed as she went back to typing and he stared at her in astonishment. Had she just defended him for himself? Oh, that confused him.

Sherlock looked to the Elder as Mary and Eve stared. But they had different gazes. Eve looked at Sherlock as if she wanted to kill him, and she did. And Mary? She looked at him to say he was an idiot for not leaving while there was time. Aveen was still caught up on the Elder in front of her.

She stared at the astonishing woman as she couldn't tear her eyes away. She wanted to look to Sherlock to see if he was okay, but she couldn't quite get her eyeballs to fucking move. Then she heard his voice and she knew he was fine. Okay, no, but he will be.

"But you know," Sherlock started as he stared at Eve and Mary over there holding each other again, "you could take them away. If he's coming for me and realizes that they did nothing to help…" he left that open to their imaginations and gestured lazily to Eve and Mary and the Elder looked to them.

Their eyes widened as he suggested something impossible for them to do. They wouldn't leave, how could they? They had so much here to do. But the Elder took it into consideration, then asked what Eve and Mary thought they wouldn't hear.

"Would you like to leave?" her hand rose from her side and was palm up as she gestured to the two women in front of her.

"What about Aveen?" Mary looked to her and saw she couldn't get out of the awe of how beautiful the Elder was. She smiled at that and Eve just kept her glare on Sherlock, she was going to look away, and then he suggested that.

"She will be taken care of," the Elder nodded in confirmation as she answered the assassin's question. The brilliant woman beside her simply looked to the floor, and said nothing as she spaced out and left the room for her thoughts. She couldn't stand that Mary was considering not getting back at Sherlock.

Sherlock rose his brows at Mary and placed a hand to Aveen's shoulder to say he would always be here for Aveen. "But…" and she had no more good reasons to deny the request. "Eve?" she nudged her lover.

Eve stared at her, nothing saying she was opposing, but nothing saying she wanted to do this. "What about Sherlock?" she asked, growling as she said more, "He doesn't get punished for what he's done?"

"Oh, trust me, he will get punished. Now back to the offer that only stands for a few more seconds," she raised one white brow at the girls staring at each other and they smiled, nodding. Eve knew that if Sherlock got punished by an Elder, he would hurt.

And so they rushed upstairs together and came back down about ten minutes later with their things. Eve stared hard at Sherlock, then to Aveen who was still staring at the Elder. She smiled at him one last time as the Elder took both of them out the door.

But before she closed it and took them away she turned to Sherlock, "Take care of that girl. She's definitely worth your love, as well as that doctor," and she was gone. The door was ajar, as she knew Sherlock would eventually exit.

But for now, he just stood. He didn't know what exactly to do now. Does he find John? But how if John wasn't taken by Eve? Where else could he possibly be? and that was when it hit him, "Oh, stupid, stupid!" and he scooped up Aveen and finally he, too was out of the house.

Aveen welcomed being held by Sherlock as he propped her on his hip and called for a cab. And it was a good thing, too. Sherlock knew he had been followed and as he climbed in the taxi, they didn't have the chance to shoot or throw or whatever they were going to kill him with.

He recited his least favourite address and they sped off as Sherlock looked out the window, refusing to let Aveen out of his lap. He felt like if he wasn't holding her, she would be gone again. That was what he wanted least right now.

Aveen was finally able to think now that the Elder was gone. She blinked at Sherlock, who was seething with emotion, but Aveen didn't know whether it was anger or relief, or possibly both. The fist to his hand was curled so tight his knuckles were white, but his face said that he was almost smiling.

This confused Aveen, and she gave up as she cuddled into his shoulder and he tightened his grip on her

John was out again, last night hadn't been enough. He needed another mission this morning, and he had come back unharmed. But Mycroft knew he had had some injuries, as there was now a scar on the back of his hand and he looked so tired.

That was five now, and Mycroft let him stomp up the stairs and to his room. Gregory questioned why he was so good at killing these people, but he also remembered that John was a soldier. He probably did this kind of thing every day when he was serving. And now it hadn't changed.

But John was content when he flopped into the pillows, fully clothed and had only bothered removing his shoes. He sighed as he fell into a deep sleep, knowing that unlike his war days, he was safe. There was one left, and then he was free to go back to Sherlock.

He snuggled into the pillow as he mumbled something incoherent about Sherlock and finding Aveen. Poor John, he was always the one to get hit with whatever the world decided it would throw that day.

Mycroft stood in the doorway of John's temporary room and wondered when this man would stop loving his brother. Love fades, does it not? It's why he just lets Gregory love him, it will fade. It's almost like a phase a teenager is going through. It rages now, but won't stick. Sure, it defines who we are, but it doesn't stay, does it?

Mycroft looked to the man now standing beside him, and wondered why he himself had started loving someone else. Perhaps it was that he hadn't in a long time. Not since… well, not since his last lover left and ended up getting executed in a foreign country.

Yeah, not exactly the best way to end a relationship. Gregory took the liberty of taking Mycroft's hand in his own, and Mycroft welcomed it, lacing their fingers together. "Do you think he'll ever stop hurting?" Greg suddenly asked about John.

"Possibly. With Sherlock by his side, I don't know. But it is possible, I suppose," he admitted. "Why are you asking?" Mycroft asked in return. Gregory shrugged, he didn't know.

"Can we do something else now?" he asked, impatient. He didn't know why, but he didn't want to work right now, as he knew that was what they were going to do after they stopped making sure John was okay.

"Like?" Mycroft asked, raising a brow. Gregory smiled shyly, there was only one thing he could think of right now, and it wouldn't be very nice if John heard it. He blushed as that thought ran through his mind and Mycroft caught onto what he was thinking.

Eve and Mary gawked at the car that they had slid into and placed their bags on the floor of. The seat were a soft black leather as Mary ran her hands across it and Eve's leg afterwards. The seat in front of them had a man sitting in it and he was driving to someplace that the Elder had ordered him to.

Eve and Mary didn't even care where they were going, they just cared for each other, and of course Eve wanted Sherlock to be punished. But that could wait until they got to wherever they were going. The Elder explained that they were going to the airport where she was going to get them a ticket to the United Sates.

They would have protested, but they knew better. Mary didn't feel like dealing with Americans lately and Eve felt the same. So they simply grumbled and looked out the window to the buildings passing by, and eventually it went to trees and there was a field after that. the scenery took many changes before they stopped.

o0o

Mary's legs were stiff as she stretched them and stood out of the open door. Eve followed as they looked to the building in front of them. people were buzzing about with luggage, coming and going as Mary took in the air. Eve handed Mary her things as she accepted tem and thanked her.

Eve just said you're welcome with a kiss to the lips and they strode off into the building, the Elder following them. she looked so different from the humans in this place, but she stood out beautifully. Mary smiled as many people gawked at the women together and the beauty of the other beside them.

Gregory took Mycroft by the hand and led him to his bedroom, where there was that plushy and comfortable bed. Despite what John thought of the other day, they hadn't shagged. They had just been fooling around because Gregory didn't feel as though he was ready for that yet.

Gregory was nervous as he drug Mycroft to sit in the bed and he was on top of the MI6 man. He smiled sweetly as Mycroft returned the smile and Gregory was kissing him before he could do anything else. The DI's lips were moving against his and it felt really good.

But this was different from the other kisses, and Mycroft knew that Gregory was definitely getting hard. Mycroft knew he was himself as his tongue glided across the silver haired man's lips. But he also knew that if he took it too fast, that would be the end of this relationship. Plus, Gregory hadn't ever done this with a man before.

He had had a lot of women, but not one man. He hadn't even kissed a man before Mycroft. Which was why he was so confused that he liked it. But this was Mycroft, there were many things he did that confused people.

Gregory's jaw dropped to let out a sigh and Mycroft took advantage by letting his tongue slide through his lips and prodded Greg's to meet him. Gregory perked up and he slid his tongue in beside and around Mycroft's and he let out a pleasured moan.

Mycroft hadn't even touched him except for his hands on Greg's hips and he was already moaning. Mycroft could tell this would be fun, teasing cum out of his newfound lover. Mycroft had been with both a man and a woman and he had to say, this was different from both.

He felt more than he had with the others, he supposed. His hands swept under Gregory's shirt and scaled his back as his hands were warm. Greg smiled into the getting deeper kiss as he melted into those hands.

Gregory's hands had no idea what to do as they just rested on Mycroft's shoulders. He wondered if he should do the same, or if he should start removing Mycroft's shirt already. But he was glad that they were in PJs still. They hadn't bothered to leave, so what was the point of getting dressed?

Well, as Mycroft's hands slid Gregory's shirt over his head, they were currently undressing, and it was amazing. Gregory let everything fall from their attention as he decided now would be the time to strip that simple dark green shirt Mycroft wore.

And that was when Mycroft parted his knees and brought Gregory down on him as they flopped into the covers. Greg let out a small, "Eep!" and Mycroft chuckled as he kissed him again, this time their tongues tangled without hesitation as the heat had grown and their breaths became heavier.

Mycroft's groin jumped from the bed and was on Gregory's in a short moment which made Greg moan and Mycroft's pants become shorter. Greg's hips collapsed and he was rubbing on Mycroft endlessly as his back arched in pleasure.

Mycroft's arms went around the DI's neck and brought him closer for more kisses, since he could barely breathe anyway. Greg's breath also left his body when Mycroft's lips were on his and Mycroft thrust their groins together again and again.

Gregory was sure he was dripping already as Mycroft's fingers drifted over the band of his PJ pants. He gulped as they separated and he stared at that hand. Mycroft chuckled at those wide eyes, and slipped his fingers under the band, pulling them to his thighs, and letting his own do the rest as they slid to the floor.

Gregory kicked them off as his body was pressed to Mycroft's again, and now the only fabric to keep him from being naked was his pants. But Mycroft still had trousers. Well, not anymore as Gregory pulled them from his slim hips. He placed kisses to Mycroft's earlobe as his shaky hands were all over Mycroft's chest.

Lestrade felt awkward as Holmes' chest was peppered with small brunette hairs and his was bare. He had never grown hair there, and he regretted as well as appreciated himself for it. Now he felt self conscious. But Mycroft's hands felt over that soft skin and he loved the way Gregory trembled to that warm touch.

Mycroft nibbled at Greg's neck as his trousers were kicked off as well. Greg moaned when he found a 'feel-good' spot. Mycroft then took advantage and marked the skin there, making it his. Making Gregory his, and letting people know just as much.

Greg just moaned as he rocked his hips into Mycroft and he let a moan slip as well. Gregory had a smug smile playing his lips as he kissed Mycroft again. And again, and then his tongue was in the mix, giving sloppy kisses, but they were both satisfied as Gregory did something he wasn't sure he would be able to.

He hooked his fingers under Mycroft's pants and looked to his lover to confirm he was allowed as Mycroft smiled and Greg took that as a yes. And when he pulled them down, he found that Mycroft was just as undone as Gregory was and he was holding back.

Gregory's lips split into a grin when he saw this and he pulled his own pants down, rubbing their bare erections together, figuring it would feel good. And it did, it sent shivers down his spine and he moaned as Mycroft did as well.

Mycroft's hands clutched Gregory's ass, squeezing and bringing them closer, rubbing them together several times before they had their pants off completely. Now they were starkers and it felt strange to be naked in front of Mycroft, but then again, he wanted this so badly. He had never wanted something so badly, and not know what he wanted. But right now, this was what he was feeling.

"I want," he stuttered, and Mycroft prompted more from him.

"Yes?" he purred into Gregory's ear.

He shook his head, "I don't know, but I want something," he said. He really didn't know what he wanted. Would he be taken, or the other way around? But when Mycroft went digging for something in his night stand, he understood what he wanted as cold yet warm fingers were pressed in between his ass cheeks.

"I know what you want," Mycroft licked at Gregory's ear and he moaned when on digit slipped in, fully and no pauses. But there was one at the end as Greg was getting used to having something inside him. How had he not known this could feel so good?

But the real sensation came in when Mycroft slipped in another and twisted, hitting Gregory's prostate spot on. Greg yelped which faded into a heavily breathed moan. Mycroft's other hand squeezed again, making Greg jump and they rubbed together again.

"This may hurt at first," Mycroft said, pulling his fingers from Gregory and placing his hips to where he could access Greg easily.

"Wha-?" he was about to question when Mycroft pushed into him. His head travelled past Gregory's entrance and slipped in all the way and Gregory could feel all of it. He could feel Mycroft pressing into his inner walls and it did hurt, at first. Now all that was left was pleasure as he moved his hips slightly, prodding and making Mycroft move.

Mycroft's arms came around Gregory's back and pressed them together, squeezing Greg's erection in between them as he rocked into Gregory. They moaned as this felt so good to both of them. Greg's arms went around Mycroft's neck as he flicked his hips forward and pushed himself back onto Mycroft, meeting him with every thrust.

This could have lasted so much longer if Gregory was used to this, but as he wasn't and Mycroft had hit that spot inside, making electricity crackle and burn his body, he was close to tipping over the edge. And when Mycroft touched Greg's erection as best he could with Gregory being in between them and Gregory could feel his vision blurring as his eyes squeezed shut.

Mycroft could feel Greg's orgasm building as he was squeezing around him, and his was so close. A few more thrusts and a few more pumps and they were both undone, moaning and screaming one another's names as they rode out the orgasms they hadn't had in such a long time.

Gregory felt Mycroft fill him and he let out a sigh as he completely collapsed onto Mycroft, the MI6 man pulling out of him and cuddling close, pressing Gregory's softened cock between them. As first times go, that was the best for Greg. He kissed Mycroft's neck as he tasted the salt from the sweat he had caused.

But he had been sweating as well, and when their lips locked again, Gregory didn't feel so self conscious anymore. Now he knew Mycroft would love him for who he was, and not who he wanted to be. And the, "I love you," confirmed Gregory's discovery.

"I love you, too," Gregory huffed as their lips were on each other's again, and never left as their tongues slid together.

John woke suddenly to the thought that Sherlock was dying, and when he saw that he was at Mycroft's he jumped from bed and slid his shoes on. He needed to be next to Sherlock again. He had to get to his lover and his daughter.

He couldn't rest again until he had done so, and that was when he rushed down the stairs and found Mycroft and Gregory, somehow they had managed to get both of them in a kitchen chair, Gregory on top of Mycroft, and it surprised John that he was still here.

But he greeted both of them as he asked for the last mission. But Mycroft's reply was only, "You're done, John Watson."

"What?" he tilted his head in confusion as Gregory smiled.

"The last target," he nodded, "is elsewhere and no harm will befall Sherlock or London. Well, it won't be from them anyway. I'm sure there'll still be much trouble in the future. But for now, you're finished," he gave a tight smile and John was disbelieving the words from Mycroft's lips.

"I can go home?" John asked I confirmation as he watched Gregory grin.

"I would like it if you did, yes," he nodded.

You guys have no idea what Sherlock and I have planned... this should be fun... hehe. Reviews?